Was he the tortured soul who poured out his immortal longings into dignified passages of stately music, or was he just an old poof who wrote tunes?
Regards,
Tschaikowsky
Well, that’s cast rather a gloom over the evening, hasn’t it?
It was the salmon.
Regards,
Shodan
You must spank her well, and after you are done with her, you may deal with her as you like…
and then…
spank me.
Are you a virgin?
No, it’s too perilous!
And after the spanking, the oral sex.
Some folks need to look up “non sequitur”.
No. 1. The Larch.
This demonstrates the value of not being seen.
Regards,
Shodan
Oh, good morning! Have you come to arrange a holiday or would you like a blowjob?
… or Lobster Thermidor a Crevette with a mornay sauce served in a Provencale manner with shallots and aubergines garnished with truffle pate, brandy and with a fried egg on top and spam.
‘E’s not pinin’! 'E’s passed on! This parrot is no more! He has ceased to be! 'E’s expired and gone to meet 'is maker! 'E’s a stiff! Bereft of life, 'e rests in peace! If you hadn’t nailed 'im to the perch 'e’d be pushing up the daisies! 'Is metabolic processes are now 'istory! 'E’s off the twig! 'E’s kicked the bucket, 'e’s shuffled off ‘is mortal coil, run down the curtain and joined the bleedin’ choir invisible!!
THIS IS AN EX-PARROT!!
Right. You’re in.
Yes you were: you were in terrible peril.
Well, one day I was sitting at home threatening the kids, and I looked out of the hole in the wall and sees this tank drive up and one of Dinsdale’s boys gets out and he comes up, all nice and friendly-like, and says Dinsdale wants to have a talk with me. So he chains me to the back of the tank and takes me for a scrape 'round to Dinsdale’s. And Dinsdale’s there in the conversation pit with Doug and Charles Paisley, the baby crusher, and a couple of film producers and a man they called “Kierkegaard,” who just sat there biting the heads off whippets, and Dinsdale said, “I hear you’ve been a naughty boy, Clement,” and he splits me nostrils open and saws me leg off and pulls me liver out, and I said, “My name’s not Clement,” and then he loses his temper and nails me head to the floor.
Hello. Tonight on ‘Face the Press’ we’re going to examine two different views of contemporary things. On my left is the Minister for Home Affairs who is wearing a striking organza dress in pink tulle, with matching pearls and a diamante collar necklace. The shoes are in brushed pigskin with gold clasps, by Maxwell of Bond Street. The hair is by Roger, and the whole ensemble is crowned by a spectacular display of Christmas orchids. And on my right - putting the case against the Government - is a small patch of brown liquid … which could be creosote or some extract used in industrial varnishing.
Someday Son, this will all be yours.
What, the curtains?
As for the performance of Superintendent Harry “Snapper” Organs as Sancho Panza, the audience were bemused by his high-pitched Welsh accent and intimidated by his abusive ad-libs.
And now for something completely different.