I was mulling over the whole marriage proposal thing last night, Beebo kept trying to persuade me by doing the Carolinian Two-Step he's so proud of (and, to be fair, he is a master of this most carnal of arts). Anyhow, once we were spent, he snuck off back home, as his wont and I was left wringing the sheets out and picking the broken glass up off the floor. Suddenly: JESUS FUCKING CHRIST, it felt like something was ripping my cunt into pieces! No, it wasn't another miscarriage, just a spot of crabs left by my recently departed beau. I do love a bit of seafood, and this was such a fucking whopper, it offers culinary opportunities I had only ever dreamed of. But the reality of it is that I can't be going about my daily business with one of these living in my pubes. I think there are a couple more that snuck up my chuff, so I'm going to have to visit Rentokil this morning to get them removed. I think tonight I'll put on a crab barbecue down on Brighton beach, there's enough there to feed the five thousand. Do come down, it'd be great to see you!