Samara’s mum reads Internet funnies to us as we watch the hockey.
“You got the dough,” she says, “We got the ho.” It’s the sign on a whorehouse door.
Well, I can do better than that, I think. I can’t help it, it’s like a condition.
“You got the scratch,” I say brightly, “We got the snatch.”
I worry I’ve gone too far, but it seems to go down okay.
I’m disappointed, so here’s another one in case she’s reading:
You got the green? We got the pink.
Doesn’t even have to rhyme. The secret is being vile.