Judging by the unholy noises emanating from the spare room, behind its closed and sealed door, Mitzi is upping her game on the virtual sex front. I genuinely can’t imagine what is going on in there in front of her interweb voyeurs, but if the sounds are anything to go by the throttling of large furry animals is the very least of it.
Mitzi eventually surfaces from her sessions looking tired and drawn. I make the consummate professional a consoling cup of tea – now that I am a bit more mobile, slowly recovering from my hospital ordeal – and ask her hopefully if she wants to talk about her situation. But she doesn’t and after my tea and sympathy she takes a short nap before sliding back into the spare room for another exhausting session.
I can tell you it’s not all fun and fluffers for most people in the sex industry – it’s apparently quite hard work!
Unlike the Government brains trust who seem to be living the life of Riley: ignoring their own rules, contradicting each other, avoiding saying anything helpful and no doubt getting bucket loads of public gelt into the bargain.
It is a golden age for swots as the owlish Ferguson is unsurprisingly told by PC Plod he won’t be fined for his extramural gaff – no doubt because he is immune from mortal consequences as an apostle in the Holy troop. It’s probably just as well… he would only have put the penalty on expenses in any event.
Bulk and The Devil 