So on Thursday evening I was subjected to watching those poor, hard done by celebrity divas take a stroll up a hill in aid of Comic Relief.  Shella insisted on watching it to see what haircut and clothes Cheryl Cole would be wearing this time, but after 5 minutes of Cheryls constant whinging about how tough it was I realised it was time to make a cup of tea. A Twix and two cups later, I’m sat back down watching some fat bloke strolling up the hill looking like every step will be his last on this planet.

Seriously, I know they did it for charity but the hill looked no bigger than the teletubbies house they had on top of their field. Maybe that’s why Chris Moyles looked more at home up there than the others.
Anyway, Shella did her bit and donated a fiver whilst I too helped out and paid a quid for some raffle tickets at work.

We actually shouldn’t have been watching Comic Relief at all on Friday as we were supposed to have a meeting with the vicar. Regular readers of the blog will remember the last time we met the vicar when I spent two hours in very uncomfortable circumstances. This time I only had one beer at the pub and gave myself plenty of time to empty the bladder beforehand.

There are several vicars in our parish and all meetings are held at the vicarage just down the road from our house - our vicar, Jill, comes from Chandlers Ford and meets us there. When we got to the other vicar’s house we were met by a puzzled look from her husband Fred whilst their dog Darcy bounced around us like Lassie on acid. No sign of Jill though; the other vicar called her but she was having a dinner party and had forgotten about our meeting. During the phone call Darcy the dog had taken quite a shine to me and Shella, especially around the crotch area. Darcy couldn’t help sniffing my undercarriage even though I’d just had a shower. I’m not quite sure what Shella’s excuse was though.

So the meeting was shelved until Monday evening instead which suited us better anyway.

On Saturday me, Shella and my mum took a trip down to Bournemouth as my mum wanted to have some adjustments made to her wedding outfit. The lady that did the alterations (early 30’s, blond, slim) had a side business of making lingerie and the studio was littered with some fairly revealing undies. Whilst she and Shella chatted, my mind started to wander and realised I needed to snap out of it fast before I went into a trance reminiscent of what Kenny Craig, the hypnotist from Little Britain, would do. So I turned round and saw her computer, complete with dual monitors. Suddenly I’d snapped out of my pervy trance and was back to my nerdy, geeky self, more interested in what spec her computer was and what she had on her screen. Once I’d taken a closer look, I noticed her emails were up so whilst she was being side tracked by Shella, I got a little nosy and saw she’d got mail from Viagra about an enquiry she’d made into a discount voucher she’d received. This wasn’t your normal spam and I realised the studio I was standing in was probably a dungeon by night. It kept me amused and prompted me to look at her website when I got home.  I wish I’d taken more notice whilst I was there now as it’s pretty saucy!

As I write this, I have received 27 of the 30 full payments for the stag do. Not bad going but the bets are on as to who will be the last. The bookies’ favourite is still in there (no names mentioned – I can’t influence the betting) but many thanks to everyone that’s paid up so far. There will be much more on this in next week’s blog when we get the full and final line up for the stag do. By then we might even be able to mention the fun and games we’ve got lined up for when we get there.....!

Don't forget you can still sponsor us for the London Marathon. Here's the link to do so online - it only takes a few minutes and remember to tick gift aid:

www.bmycharity.com/matthewstorey
www.bmycharity.com/shellasmith