(Hand coyly over mouth) In which that literary sport of politicians, sexting, makes an appearance in my box, and in my repertoire.
Dave: When are you gonna come belly dance for me? 601 more words
In which I fall deeply in like with a new conquest.
By this time, on Internet dating sites I’d learned a thing or two about West African scammers and could spot them a mile away; I was no longer in danger of being taken in by them. 329 more words
Research shows that with 100 days to go, the Tories are still short a whopping 97 candidates. Almost a sixth of all seats…
Even if you subtract Northern Ireland, there are still 79 candidate-less seats with just a couple of months to go. 91 more words