Mrs. A. says that she is going to identify as a dustbin, and I have to take her out at least once a week . . . . maybe so that she can be picked up by some stranger who'll bend her over into the back of his truck I daren't tell what it implies that she's full of, or that she has to be subjected to a periodic power wash, as well as me painting my door number on her arse to stop the neighbours wandering off with her
