Oh.My.God. That is what I put when OMG does not even come close? I mean I am totally used to scraping his gum from under the floating shelves or like, finding his tinnies in the shower but I srsly never thought Mr Cobber would try to incinerate my Zara boots? As in literally, I walk in & he is holding them like three INCHES from the wood-burning stove & LAUGHING & going trust the Wizard of Oz, Sabrina mate, I did this all the time with Boris's suits & today the guy just can't thank me enough? I'm like *icy calm voice* please respect my property Mr Cobber *recoils from traces of barbecue sauce on neoprene upper* do you have any IDEA what these controversial boots have done for upscale tote sales, literally the blue one sold out & tomorrow, if it is fine for the school run, I plan to model three more must-have bags, plus a holdall, a fun key-ring, an iPad case and, if it will stay on my head, the full 2014 Portobello diary range, in four vibrant colours?
Mr Cobber is like, OK Sabrina, if you want your hipster freaking footwear to lose hubby his election, Lynton is not saying they look kind of creepy & foreign but in forensic polling 92% of your core vote connected half-calf boots with Nazi fucking Germany, as in EUROPE? I'm like, I swear Mr Cobber, you have one day to find another fash item that is reasonably priced & edgy enough to guarantee front page Mail coverage of three, minimum, luxe accessories?
So Mr Cobber goes, now now, someone round here has to pay for the breadmaker, polling says a nice piccy of Mrs Dave in a pair of toasty Crocs touches all the core bases, where's my time sheet, that will be £30,000 for the call-out plus £16,000 for parts, sign here? I'm like WTF, he's like well have you seen my gum, ooh parking, that'll be another £11,000, word of advice Sabrina, I was round the Goves the other day, lovely couple, now that lady is a lioness for her hubby? I'm like, I KNOW, you want to know the number of times Dave could have showcased my clutch?
