Strolling along Margate seafront last night, I bumped into an old Polish friend of mine called Greg. Greg is a really, really lovely bloke but has this problem of being overly hirsute, in fact, I'd say he's the hairiest person I've ever met but also one of the friendliest and fun-loving. He reminds me, in many ways, of Bigfoot from that wonderful film, Bigfoot And The Hendersons.
After chatting for a while and establishing that we were both at a loose end, Greg suggested that we go back to his for coffee and, er, biscuit. Never one to scoff at a kind offer like that, I escorted him onto the premisis.
As smashing a bloke as Greg is, he does get some funny ideas in his head from time to time, the lastest of which was to have his chest waxed.
Well honestly, you should have seen it. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry! He looked like someone had dropped an albino camel into a gorse bush.
"It's lovely!" I told him. "How long do you think it'll take to grow back?"
The coffee was lovely but I declined the biscuit on the grounds that it would be almost impossible to enjoy it while I was laughing like a drain.