fat fingered friday, page-224

BigDaddy, you are the Voltaire of raconteurs!

There's a dilema there.

If you hold your Rio and other girls high in the air and slam them hard down onto the footpath in disgust, stomp on them three times, then trade their tattered remains to a passing dero for a sausage and stale bread crumbs, then I know it's time to buy because capitulation is underway.

Then, a week later, the dero will pass buy in neat pin-striped Zegna suit and highly polished suit, and toss a few hundred dollar notes at you.

"Go buys yerself a Big Mac or two" he'll advice. "But haven't got time to chat---I'm on me ways to JB HiFi to get a plasma for the squat."

"Curses!" I hear you said. "I should have hung on to those useless shares."

Indeed, BigDaddy, indeed.