Gangsta's paradise...

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Morning ladies, I hope you all had a wonderful time at the weekend switching from shorts to thermals and sandals to wellies?  Even my wardrobe had to go and have a lie down after the many costume changes it was expected to deliver over the weekend.+

But normality seems to have returned for a while, but I am not taking any risks and am currently attired in walking boots, thick socks, shorts and a sweater.  It's one of those looks which usually draws from the husband one of his favourite sayings...

'It's at times like this that you realise that they haven't got them all locked up yet'.

Which is rather rich coming from someone who has the dress sense of Charlie Cairoli...

But how was your weekend?  Mine was one I have been looking forward to for around three years.  This had been put off time and time again by an artificial anticipation improver (or Covid-19 as others call it).  I finally got to fulfil my dream of seeing Queen (well, 50% of them) at the O2.  We had dragged along Mrs S (best friend one) and her gorgeous beau The BFG.  If you know him, this will make a lot of sense, but if not, let's just say that since the age of eleven, he hasn't had to ask anyone in the supermarket to reach 'that can of tomatoes on the top shelf'.  We had a fine old time, and much merriment (plus Chinese food, blisters, bad beer and a hoodie purchase) and it all totally lived up to me expectations.

The new hoodie was for the husband, who, at 9.00 on Saturday morning, took one look out the window and proclaimed that no jumper or coat would be needed for the weekend.   Not even my special 'Are you serios?' look would sway him, and it was only when we were leaving the O2 to be faced with Noah-esque weather, that he capitulated on the sweater front.

'I'll buy a Queen hoodie', he said, ambling back to the merchandise stand.  As you can imagine, the shelves resembled Tesco after Toilet-rollGate in March 2020, so his choice was limited.

'This is all we have left in a large', said the spotty youth laying out on the counter what looked like a plain black hoodie.  'It'll do', said the husband, 'how much is it?'

So after some CPR and harsher than required facial slapping, I managed to get him off the floor and parted from his wallet, and the hoodie was quickly popped over his shivering frame. 'It's all right, isn't it', said the husband, desperately trying to talk himself into believing that the hoodie justified the cost.

It's at this point I should remind you all that the husband is balding and knocking on a bit. 'What does the writing say all down the sleeve?' I asked him, wishing I'd had one less G&T than I had.

Well ladies, he hadn't spotted the writing, but this is what it said...

'Gangsters are ruling the world'...

If by gangsters, you mean the merchandising stands at these concerts, I suppose you might be right...





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