Perpetually heartbroken Joan

Perpetually heartbroken Joan played two songs from morning until night.

Tom Jones ‘She thinks that I still care,’ and Elvis ‘I’ll never fall in love again.’

Her beautiful face plastered with cheap makeup to greet a steady flow of undeserving men, fly-tippers of toxic emotions.

Mannered males bearing viscount biscuits arrived, smoothly, respectfully, and calmly knocking before entering. Ill-mannered loathsome braggarts who “liked a bit of black,” did not.

Joan’s unhelpful habit of taking my mother’s suggestions as commands led to an unprofitable and disorderly life.

Her first husband left after she slept with their best man, her second, was unable to consummate the marriage. Fortuitously, boredom with the third only set in once he had secured the tenancy of a three-bedroomed council house for her and the kids who had lost count of the number of stepdads they had.

My mother said. “Joan falls in and out of love quicker than she changes her drawers.”

A Brief History by Joe Lucking