We arrived on Isla Grande today. It’s an island about three hours drive south of Rio. It’s so lush and beautiful it looks like a hideout for a Bond villain. Thinking about that as I rode the boat from the mainland reminded me that when I was in Paris with Emma we came across a shop-front for Goldfinger Real Estate. How very different the exchanges must be now that the super villain has pensioned off his white cat.
“Do you expect me to rent this apartment Goldfinger?”
“No Mr Bond, I expect you to buy!”
For Alan, by far the most impressive things about the island so far have been the testicles on the sausage dog we saw while having a beer by the quay on Sunday afternoon. Such cheerful little nuts, sitting like two shrink-wrapped vulcanised rubber balls proudly on display high between the hind legs of this stately little dog.
“They’re amazing,” Alan said. “They’re just like a perfect set of perky breasts.”
Hmm.
Later that night we came across the same hound. This time he was being carried by his owner who was cradling the pup by his front legs, giving the world a full frontal display of tiny dog’s generous testicles.
Alan was so happy he almost cried.
That is all,
Dale Atkinson
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment