A croc of s****

My bloke hates me wearing crocs. It doesn’t matter that we’re in a Camper Van in the middle of a field, he does a silent ‘Tut’ every time I slip my toes inside the squidgy plastic. I stay silent, but his eyebrows do all the talking with a bit of strictly come dancing across his forehead. It’s utter hypocrisy, of course – when he needs to go in the middle of the night, does he clamber into his oh so sexy green Asda wellies? No. He creeps off in my pretty pink Crocs….

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