28 July 2012

Bravetart

Ever heard the phrase "a fish out of water"? After relocating about as far South from battered Mars Bars and hard daytime drinking as humanly possible on this isle of ours, Devon was proving a hard place to call
home for Liza.

Ok the cream teas were n't to hard to live with and there was an abundance of locally produced Cider should her old habits ever return but the pull of the Highlands still tugged at her heartstrings. Sure Devon was Green but it wasn't Scottish Green.

As the months rolled by in an uneventful entirely Devon-like way Liza began to notice this homesickness begin to manifest itself a little deeper.
Fiercely patriotic as seems a pre-requisite with Scots she was well versed with her countries history and tainted with the hatred of the English all kilt-kin have embedded in their genes. So when a certain Hollywood blockbuster focusing on one of her countries most famous sons hit the big screen, Liza found herself first in line.
Since purchasing said epic in blu-ray, Dvd, VHS, mp4 and even the written adaptation on mp3 (read by Sean Connery no less) it could be said she was something of a fan of William Wallace.

Now in the movie, Big Willie (as his fellow soldiers probably never referred to him as) is played by everyones favourite anti-semitic Mel Gibson. He's known to be somewhat of a hit with right wing middle age women everywhere and Liza too was finding herself getting more and more attracted to him, but not in the conventional way. She'd seen Mad Max and decided Leather wasn't his thing. She'd seen Pay back and decided talking in a low whisper for 96 minutes wasn't really his thing either but boy could he work the hell out of kilt!

So, she placed an order with a costume outlet online for a shaggy unkempt ruffian wig (dirty brown), blue/white face paint and a kilt.

When she asked her husband to wear aforementioned attire with the promise he could do anything to her in the bedroom and he declined she was somewhat surprised.

When she went online in search of women who encourage their men to dress up for a bit of nookie she found only the usual emergency service based fans, a few trekkie nerds and one woman who insisted her man dress up as a pantomime horse.

Disappointedly she decided to take matters into her own hands, and when one night her husband returned to find Liza with a blue and white painted face, dirty brown wig, kilt hitched up just over her knees and a seductive smile on her face, citing temporary insanity in her part he fled the house and later filed for divorce.

And so what initially seems a sad story ends well for out Liza. She returned to her native land, shacked up with a burly whisky drinking Loch Ness Tour Guide and had several red haired children. Home is where the heart is, even if it needs to tell you by scaring the living hell out of your middle class insurance salesman husband from Swindon first.



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