I'm just impressed that Gus used the word nefarious. With vocabulary like that no wonder the egg lady is so impressed with Gus.
Just ensure that she is not the one who laid the eggs
Gus, looking at that photo, I'm pretty sure..... though I WAS rather drunk at the time, that this is the lady who lives just a slight way back off the main road near your farmstead, in a smallholding with a blue painted porch.
An easy way to tell would be to call her "Babushka" (my pet name for her), next time you meet. If her eyes go all misty, a slight smile passes across her face and she starts to squirm involuntarily from the hips down, it's her alright.
You see, I was passing through last Autumn, a season that I believe you Colonials call the "fall", when the Bentley blew a tyre just as I was cruising past the end of her narrow dirt track.
I spent a while sipping a brandy in the back of the car, watching Penbury playing with some large nuts as he tried to remove the wheel, when I noticed Babs (as I now call her) approach with a small shotgun, whereupon she gave him some sound advice.
She (quite rightly) told him that it would be far easier if he just concentrated on the main task and take the wheel off with two hands, rather than trying to play with himself at the same time.
He did up his trousers and, while he set about removing the wheel, she asked me if I would like to come inside for some refreshment.
I followed her into her small but neat shack, where she proceeded to ply me with something called Jack Daniels, which has a similar taste to whisky that has been watered down somewhat.
I don't know whether it was the warmth of her cosy room, the near proximity of the many and varied rustic implements in her kitchenette, or just the sight of her undressing in front of me, whilst gyrating her hips to Donna Summers "I feel love" that had such an effect on my loinal regions, but within a very short space of time I began to feel rather fruity.
After a few more drinks, I couldn't hold back any longer and so asked her if a bloody good romp would be in order.
She nodded whilst another Donna number pumped away in the background, and no sooner than one could say "Bob's yer uncle", a torrid sex session was being thoroughly enjoyed on the stone floor of the kitchenette, the draining board adjoining the sink, and finally on top of her small dining table.
After about ten minutes of this severe torridness I was rather puffed out, and decided to ask her if she'd like to join in.
She gyrated her nakedness across the room, to the accompanying "Sex Machine" by James Brown, and we ended up taking part in various abominable acts for the rest of the evening.
The woman was amazing! I learned more in that evening, than I did in the whole time that Nanny Ingrid looked after me when I was in my early twenties.
I would therefore highly recommend this lady to you, Gus, although I must warn you that since she has now tasted some Ellpus sugar, she probably has exceptionally high expectations.
One word of advice though.
Those items that she is holding in her photo......if you look very closely, you will see that there is a small, electrical wire that connects them together. She is a wizard with the remote control that goes with them, but she does tend to wear the batteries down very quickly.
If this happens to you, I would strongly advise that you try to pass them before the batteries die completely, as I found them incredibly painful to pass the next morning, when they were no longer vibrating.
She's a very houseproud woman, so I'm sure she's washed them thoroughly.
Good luck, old boy. Give Babs my regards.
Oh, and watch out for that faulty bedspring!
