Thursday, February 24, 2005


I was at a ball on Saturday. Studiously sober, I might add. I was however, engaged in light conversation by a rather attractive, if expensively upholstered, lady at our table.

"You look like a gay boy with that ring on your little finger."

Later in the evening she asked me if I would have a mind to steer her for a couple of circuits around the parquet.

"Sorry, darling. Gay boys don't dance."

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