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I was relaxing in my local pub the other night having a refreshing lemonade (in a dirty glass - nothing soft about me), when SALMA HAYEK sidles up to me and asks me for my telephone number. "You're married, Salma (to a multi-millionaire, no less - I wonder what she saw in him?) so it wouldn't be right to give you my number!" says I.
"Number - now!" she says, whipping out a dirty great gun from under her t-shirt. Well, who am I to argue with a lady? Especially when she's toting such impressive weaponry (in more ways than one). So I handed her my mobile number, and no doubt she'll be calling me sometime soon. I'll just let it go to voicemail though - there's far too many women in my life at the moment, fighting for my attention.
(Nurse, is it time for my medicine yet?)
