(Almost) True Story
Published by Rick on Tuesday, February 23, 2010.
A friend of mine was sat in a top London restaurant with his wife of 36 years, when a tall, very attractive lady in her 20s walked up to him, gave him a long lingering kiss on the lips and walked off.
His wife was stunned. “Who on earth was that?!” she demanded.
“Oh, that’s my mistress.”
“Your mistress?!! You rat! I demand a divorce!”
“Take care, dear. If we divorce we’ll waste millions on solicitors. We’ll have to sell our big grand house and we’ll both end up living in tiny flats. The Rangerover, the Merc and your Porsche will have to go and we’ll both end up driving round in little second-hand cars. You won’t see the kids and the grandchildren as much as you do at the moment. Neither of us will ever holiday again in far off exotic places or take cruises any more. We’ll never…”
“Who’s that with George?” interrupts the wife, pointing to a neighbour walking through the restaurant with a young lady.
“That’s his mistress.”
“Hmm. Ours is prettier.”
His wife was stunned. “Who on earth was that?!” she demanded.
“Oh, that’s my mistress.”
“Your mistress?!! You rat! I demand a divorce!”
“Take care, dear. If we divorce we’ll waste millions on solicitors. We’ll have to sell our big grand house and we’ll both end up living in tiny flats. The Rangerover, the Merc and your Porsche will have to go and we’ll both end up driving round in little second-hand cars. You won’t see the kids and the grandchildren as much as you do at the moment. Neither of us will ever holiday again in far off exotic places or take cruises any more. We’ll never…”
“Who’s that with George?” interrupts the wife, pointing to a neighbour walking through the restaurant with a young lady.
“That’s his mistress.”
“Hmm. Ours is prettier.”
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