If you'd happened to be strolling around Weymouth shopping centre last thursday afternoon, you would quite possibly have witnessed myself attempting to appear both suave and cool whilst fighting a losing battle with a large and messy double-sausage hot-dog.
Each time a pretty face came within view, my sausage made another bid for freedom and yet another dollop of tomato ketchup or mustard oozed down the front of my shirt.
Doggedly i chomped onwards, beginning to doubt if i would ever make it to the end of this unruly repast.
Slivers of fried onion flew in all directions whilst the mustard made my nose run like a dripping tap, meanwhile my wife sat on a bench close by serenely nibbling her own snack without a care in the world.
I finally abandoned all pretence or hope of cool when a chunk of sausage leapt to the ground, bouncing down my spattered shirt on the way before rolling across the pavement.
Any female within the vicinity that may have even remotely been contemplating the impulsive act of throwing herself at my feet in adoration no doubt changed her mind immediately as my messy predicament unfolded before her astonished eyes.
We live and learn, the sad events of last thursday afternoon pointedly reminding me why you never see Royalty eating hot-dogs.
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Miza-T
err you did make me think something else
no dinner tonight...eaten an apple....Tinks out....
just a couple of old fossilised crusts and baked beans....
I got the picture! Hilarious
But it's okay, it happens to everybody, even posh pretending ladies
The difference is they hide when they are doing it!
I don't
xxx