I’m printing out flyers for me teas disappearance, there’s no milk in sight, an intruder reet near us.
Popping up, bobbing, floating around. A little tea bag is sleeping quite sound. ‘Away with you tea bag you’ve no business here’ ‘There’s a meetin with binbag in a room at the rear’.
A disastrous morning it’s been in my house, no biscuits for dipping. The suspect …
‘Leave it to me Jean’ when making the drinks. Perhaps ’twas her plan all along, I now think.