Stroke my chicken?

I had one of those perfect moments on Sunday. I was eating a good meal and watching my daughter do some interpretive dancing to ‘Songs from Bear in the Big Blue House.’ She had dressed herself and so was wearing three t-shirts and a purple plastic bag which, she explained, was Japanese.

None of this was soured by the slightly surreal experience on Saturday of receiving an obscene phone call. A distant, local accented voice asked me if I would like to stroke his cock. Because this sort of phone call was new to me I had hung up before thinking up any witty responses and I was more annoyed at that than anything else. What if Freya had answered the phone? You might ask. Well, I suspect she would have no idea what he was talking about and given the phone to me (the way she does when Granny calls). I called the police and reported what had happened and was asked for exact details (which made it the first time I had said “would you like to stroke my cock” to a police lady). What makes this more interesting is that not many people know my number, so if this wasn’t random dialling I have a fairly good idea who might be behind it.


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