It was a horrible sticky evening at the end of a horrible sticky day. Some people love that kind of day. They see hot days as the bee’s knees, the wasp’s nipples* or even the hornet’s eyebrows. I’m not so fond.

Don’t get me wrong, I love the sun beating down on my face and nothing is as perfect as an ice-cold beer in the sun, except perhaps a good clean poo, but horrible sticky days make me feel horrible and sticky. Spending the day sweating like a Turkish wrestler is not my idea of fun.

I headed to our bedroom, persisting in the delusion that sleep would be possible if the window was open. How wrong I was. The room was stifling. I slipped into my birthday suit, slouched on the bed and opened my book. Minutes later my wife entered the room.

“A porn star would be jealous of that pose,” she said.

It’s nice to know that if developing financial software doesn’t work out I have another career path available.

*Lifted from the great Douglas Adams.

P.S. I’d like to point you all to a fabulous article on tits written by an old friend of mine. Don’t judge before you’ve read it…Pure brilliance!





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