My Darling Armadillo,

I must say that although the news of your two year affair with Bartholomew is shocking and profound information it is not altogether new. I knew about your affair from the beginning. But I had him first. He has been my on and off flame for the past six years, seven months and 28 days this Smarch. Obviously he is as wayward as I.

The lull in our passionate bouts of lovemaking has not resided I’m afraid; it must be this Indian Smarch. I have found myself turning to Barry, the timid ferret. He has increasingly been a tremendous support while Bartholomew was in Detox and unable to satisfy me properly.

Now I am torn, my crunchy caress. Between my suave turtle lover; a comforting if rather timid ferret and I have realized, my philosophical idiosyncrasy, my darling dilemma, I still have feelings for you. I have found that sometimes on those cold and lonely Smarch Nights as I lie next to Bartholomew or try and coax Barry out from under the washing machine; I wonder what chair you are rocking back and forth in; what sweet manic murmurs you are mumbling to yourself.

When I left that Smarch day, I left without a backwards glance, but now I am forever looking back. Oh, the irony! I looked for you, as a staggered about in a vaguely nostalgic manner at the bus stop pier. Alas! You did not appear! Farewell, my amiable Armadillo,

Ruby Tuesday x