Little and Large
I was returning from a business trip to Brussels—as if there was any other reason to go to Brussels, for it is a shithole—on a 3+3-configured flight the other day. The two seats next to me were empty, which is always nice. But the plane hadn't finished boarding, as two middle-aged women approached. One of them was short and petite, while the other…wasn't.
Fortunately, tiny
took the window seat, with me in the aisle seat, and the midget between us. Phew! Less fortunately, after they both visited the toilet at the same time, the midget returned first, now taking the window seat. Bollocks!
Anyhow, the purpose of this entry is not to discuss the joys of flying with unaccompanied hippos.
During the flight, tiny
regaled her friend with an anecdote of a school reunion that she'd recently attended. She passed comment that many of the men there were now follicularly challenged
, and she and other ladies were left wondering: what'd happened to all those hirsute young lads, of days gone by?
And I couldn't help but think that those same men were, at the same time, wondering when all those beautiful slips of girls had suddenly turned into beached whales.
People who live in glass houses…don't get a suntan.