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A bad date with boyfriend jeans

The sun makes an appearance and Maggie just can't help herself.

Out come sunglasses the size of goldfish bowls, the kitten-heeled silver sandals which cut off the blood supply to her toes, and the maxi dress that makes her look as if she is wearing the weather forecast.

This year, however, she has swapped the maxi dress for a strappy top and, wait for it, boyfriend jeans.

Sashaying up to the table, her undulating hips swinging from side to side, she gave a whole new meaning to the word 'angle-grinder'.


"Boyfriend jeans!" shrieked Patsy. "Are you not a bit long in the tooth for boyfriend jeans?"

"WTF are you talking about," replied Maggie.

"I seem to recall you arriving to the coffee shop one day in a pair of tan jeggings and a brown jumper."

"What was wrong with that?" demanded Patsy. "Nothing, except for the fact that you looked like a ring doughnut" said Maggie, licking her finger and holding it in the air as if she had won the first round.

"If you had sprinkled her with sugar and deep fried her, we could have fed a small nation," I whispered to Josie.

Josie, however, was not game for a laugh. She still hasn't got over the fact that one of her chickens – the rooster, no less – ended up mangled and missing an eye, all because I left the latch off the door of the coop.

"I loved Ruairi," she said, when I retrieved him out of my wheelie bin and opened the Lidl plastic bag to let her see.


Not only was he missing an eye, but his little tongue was hanging out of his beak as if he had died roaring.

I had tried to straighten him out a bit, but rigor mortis got the better of me.

Josie took Ruairi home and buried him in the back garden beside her cat, who had also come to an unfortunate end, but not before she informed me that her organic pigs are coming next week and I won't be allowed next nor near them.

Good job, because I don't think I'll be able to lift one into the wheelie bin

Anyway, back to Maggie and her boyfriend jeans, which were sagging in all the wrong places. "I hope you take this the right way," Patsy was saying, "but not even your bum is big enough to hold up those jeans."

There was a brief pause in which I thought Maggie might punch her lights out, but she suddenly beamed and said: "That is the nicest thing you have ever said to me."

That's how you know a true friend. They will always stab you in the front ...