Miss Soft Touch

My family seek to destroy me from within.

No, wait. That's not accurate. My mum and sister seek to destroy from within.

We were walking back from Wetherspoons (because we're classy like that) where we'd spent the entire meal next to a table of women who were cackling like hyenas. After I made some passing comment about them all being very, very single, my mum piped up 'Nah... They're all married. To builders. So they have stacks of money and think they have loads of class when really they've got shit-all in that department.' Too true, too true.

Anyway, we were walking back from Wetherspoons and we went to the shop to get some toilet paper because SOMEONE (Cleo) very inconsiderately caught a cold and used up all the loo roll in one night. Walmgate's corner shop isn't particularly lush, it smells of cat pee most nights and is a hub for all manner of chavs, smelly old men (who have really bright personalities, I've found, because I stand on street corners making small talk with smelly old men at 3am whilst waiting for my kebab to be cooked) and other people. It's full of small brands and soon enough my mum comes along yelling "Nicky! Nicky, guess what we found!"

It was toilet paper. And it was called 'Nicky Super Soft Touch'.

Since that moment I have been hearing 'Oh, Nicky is so soft!', 'Nicky feels great!' or 'Ahh... Nicky!' erupting from the bathroom all night.

My family are strange and somewhat awful folk.