Fag Hag Diary

Owcha (not magowcha)


The Fag Hag has been up all night and it wasn’t due to a Viagra party in my pants. It was partly because the Geordie neighbour upstairs was snoring like a JCB in a ditch, and partly because I’ve come down with a nasty bout of hurtie teeth.The pain was so bad it felt like Jeff Stryker had set up shop for the night in my poor little mouth (I know, I know I always mention him, but what you gonna do? I happen to love that man). A dawn raid on the medicine cabinet only produced some KY from the Jurassic age and some vaginal thrush pessaries – not a Nurofen in sight.

So here I am, comedy hankie tied round my jaw, about to head off to the nice old dentist up the road. Except the nice old dentist is actually a very hot young, blonde female friend of my sister’s. So if anyone’s planning on shooting a budget porn film called, ‘Lesbian Drillers’ head up to Muswell Hill in twenty minutes  – she’ll be the one leaning tantalisingly over my mouth with an instrument…

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