Hi Emma, I’ve just had a drink with Flossie McGlossie, the Scottish girl that almost made it out of the X-Factor heats last year. She’s a right good laugh. She’s a bit miffed because the Commonwealth Games organising committee refused to endorse Vodka snorting as a recognised sport for the games. She’d have pissed the gold medal if it had been included. More comes down her nose than goes in her mouth when she starts to giggle.
We had a great time in Norks Girly Bar. She copped off with one of the topless barmen they have in there. He was all right too; his pecs looked like they’d been pumped up with a tyre inflating machine. She’s seeing him tonight. He told her his name is Marko, but I heard one of the other lads behind the bar call him Stan. I told her but she didn’t seem to care, she said she had no intention of their relationship getting too deep and she told him her name was Megan, anyway.
After the bar we had a walk over to that new coffee bar in the precinct, (I walked, Flossie sort of staggered.) We had a couple of Irish espressos, which are normal, one-shot espressos, topped up with Bushmills from the half bottle Flossie keeps in her bag. She pulled again while we were in there. I don’t know how she does it. It’s not like she’s been endowed with tits like Pamela Anderson or something. She’s got crooked teeth and a mole on her neck so big that it looks like it just crawled out of her cleavage. I’ve got to hand it to her though, blokes were buzzing around her like flies round a dog turd. She fell off her stool twice while we were in there but that didn’t seem to put them off. I crossed my legs and stuck out my chest a bit but I couldn’t have pulled if I’d hung a card round my neck saying, shag me senseless.
I was starting to feel a bit groggy myself after the fourth espresso so I made my excuses and lurched my way out of the café. Outside I literally bumped into that tart Olivia, she was walking hand in hand with Zara Pomfrey’s dad. You remember Zara, we used to call her pomme frite at school because of her name, and because her skin was exactly the same colour as a McDonalds French fry. I expected a gob full off her but it didn’t arrive, she just looked embarrassed and tried to make out she had just bumped into him. That wasn’t going to work because the lipstick on his neck matched up exactly with the Revlon Moon Drops, Penis Pink shade that she had smudged all over her kisser.
I logged the info for blackmailing purposes and pushed my way past to get to the taxi rank. Half an hour later I was fast asleep on the sofa. Mum had to wake me up for dinner. I wonder how Flossie got on with Stan/Marko from Norks, I doubt if she’ll remember to go back and she had a lot of other options available. I might look in again myself at the weekend though. Do you fancy it, Emma?
Catch you later.
This is a new Tracy Hot Mail and is not part of the upcoming Tracy’s Celebrity Hot Mail which is to be published by Crooked Cat Publishing on 12th August 2014. Priced at a mere £7.99 it will be the bargain of the century… so far at least.