Hello,
I have entitled this post bloody Israelis to trick you all into thinking I'm going to go on a rant about Palestine but I'm not you'll be relived/disgusted to hear instead I want to warn the women of Glasgow about a menace at large in Debenhams.
The Israeli menace is very charming and talks to one in that I want to marry you way that I thought the was exclusive to Turkish gentlemen but apparently is practised by the Israeli chap too.
I was minding my own business on my way to the hat section when all of a sudden I was pounced on by a chap who wanted to talk to me about the Dead Sea. I'm not knowledgeable about the Dead Sea but I do find it interesting so agreed to follow him to his counter. Before I knew what was happening my hands were covered in salt and I was being told that Mr Clairwil was the luckiest man in the world. Do you know when I related this to Mr Clairwil he snorted! Then refused to explain the meaning of the snort and frantically tried to change the subject.
After being salted, oils and creams and jars of salt started to appear from nowhere accompanied only by somewhat alarming declarations of love from the sales chap. I had, if I'm honest suspected an ulterior motive for all this worship right from the start and was proved right when I asked how much this mountain of salt based products was going to cost only to be told £149.95. Bah! I knew he didn't really love me.
Frankly I consider myself lucky to have escaped only £60 worse off with a free gift that is only available to 'beautiful women' -though I suspect the definition of beauty in this situation is somewhat flexible.
All that said the salt scrub is excellent and has left my skin very smooth -even my hands but suspect the same results could have been achieved with a big bag of sea salt and a bottle of almond oil at a fraction of the price. Then again that wouldn't have been half as funny.
So ladies be warned there is a squad of them roaming Debenhams sweet talking your purses empty.
Cheerio
8 comments:
Try as I might, I have nothing to say on the subject of women's beauty aids, a subject as mysterious and mythical as the Iliad; however, one thing did produce a double take (and please read the next bit in your very best Lady Bracknell voice) - the Hat Department!
The 'Bovver' Boots Department, possibly; the sexy Underwear Department on behalf of Mr. Clairwil, quite likely; the Dress Department, certainly, as it is a well-known fact that no woman can ever knowingly pass by one without taking "a quick look" usually lasting a minimum of two hours - but the Hat Department! I mean, it's not the wedding season and Ascot's not due until next year.
I think we should be told!
Ah! So my disguise worked.........
I think the hat was to wear to the speedway next season, no?
No, no, 'Ill Man', I just see Clairwil in a milliner's confection of gauze and beads and flowers, it would go so awfully well with her social worker outfit of denim boiler suit, don't you think?
Denim boiler suit? Kinky.......
And who's this 'David Dyff'
It's my Welsh cousin, twice removed (thank God!), trying to steal my identity. He has obviously purloined my details from the Inland Revenue - actually they seem to be handing them out free and gratis at the moment - and is mounting a wicked campaign to make me appear an illiterate half-wit.
But we all know better, do we not?
Illman,
You nefarious creature!
David Duff & Family
I must point out that I am not a social worker and have never owned a denim boiler suit in my life -it's frocks or skirts for me all the way. As for the hat mystery I was after a beret and perhaps a small cocktail hat -nothing suitable for Ascot.
"Frocks or skirts [...] a small cocktail hat"!
Clairwil, I knew you were the woman for me! Leave Mr. Clairwil and fly to me, he might be young and, er, vigorous, but there is a life for you here (and a dress allowance!) and much satisfaction to be had from caring for an old man, you know, lovingly wiping the constant dribble down my chin, that sort of thing.
"Frocks"! I haven't heard that word in years. And a beret! With a trenchcoat, of course, collar up and with a tie-belt and a cigarette - soooo 1940s French resistance! Yes, you're the woman for me!
By Jove!
Will Clairwil accept Duff's 'alluring' offer?
Will 'The Little Memsahib' cut off the old goats internet access (and a few other things as well)?
Has David watched 'The Third Man' once too often?
All will (probably not) be revealed.........
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