Those in the know will recognize Pregnant Patti from Halloween. Those not so lucky as to have met her....well, just hang on to your fallopians, (vas diferenses?), because the day you meet Patti is the day everything you knew to be true is turned on it's head. No. Actually, I think the day you meet Pregnant Patti is the day that all you believed to be true about the world is proven to be just as you thought, rendering you paralysed with fear and loathing for the lives of future generations.
Or something like that.
I love Patti. She brings out something in me that is so balls out. I mean, let's face it kiddies, I'm no shrinking violet, so, as you may well theorize, if she makes me balls out, it must be quite a sight. A lot of people who were at the Jolly Alderman the night of October 30th would back your theory with their anecdotal evidence.
How would you feel if a big toothed pregnant lady in rubber boots and kneesocks balancing a pint of beer on her round belly rubbed said belly in a seductive manner while looking you in the eye and inquired, "Hey, you wanna be my baby's daddy?", in a tone that can only be described as nicotine soaked? My guess is you would be dazzled.
And they were.
And I was.
And you will be.