Randomly roaming through today's news stories, I discovered this one (predictably enough on the Daily Wail's website) - which instantly reminded me of Stella's opinion of Siá¢n. Hopefully Siá¢n isn't (or wasn't) this bad...
Daily Wail | South Wales Evening Post | Telegraph
A lesbian bride was arrested at her own wedding reception after baring her breasts at a doorman and then hitting him over the head with her red stiletto shoe.
Sharon Hancox, 40, spent her first night of marriage in police cells after the disturbance at the champagne party to celebrate her nuptuals with new wife Nicola Hutin.
A court heard Hancox had drunk up to eight pints of lager and quaffed champagne after the civil ceremony.
Oh, and the court in question was Swansea Magistrates Court, and the bar was "Champers" in High Street, Swansea.
Comments
Imagine What the Doorman Said
There are some things that require a sound breast exposure. And . . . how on Earth could anyone hit anyone over the head with a shoe unless that person wasn't incapacitated in some way so they couldn't duck? Even Bush managed to avoid that drubbing.
My guess would be that the doorman said something highly unfortunate about her lifestyle choices. Perhaps she should have kept her heels on and used their pointy toes to land a shot for freedom of choice squarely where it would get his attention.
Angela Rasch (Jill M I)
Angela Rasch (Jill M I)
maybe he couldn't see past
maybe he couldn't see past the "hills" ?
She obviously wanted
to get something off her chest, perhaps it was the doorman. Let's hope the rest of her married life is less tempestuous.
Angharad
Angharad
It's my experience...
...that drunks always lead tempestuous lives on one level or another, one damned tragedy following close on the heels of the one before until they either dry out or kill somebody, hopefully themselves before they top someone else, but it doesn't always work out that way, unfortunately.
It stands to reason, though; they've had a running start. If someone handed one a pill in a bottle with a little label that said, "This will make you stupid," what sort of idiot pops it in their mouths?
Reminds me of fugu connoisseurs, who aren't satisfied with merely eating a poisonous fish, they want enough poison left in that their lips grow numb, the first sign of fatal intoxication. If one survives -- and one usually does -- you've had all the fun of suicide without the expense of a funeral.
Cheers,
Puddin'
-
Cheers,
Puddin'
A tender heart is an asset to an editor: it helps us be ruthless in a tactful way.
--- The Chicago Manual of Style