Oh no, that’s next door. It’s being-hit-on-the-head lessons in here.
My brain hurts!
About one - call it none.
You’ve got two empty halves of coconut and you’re bangin’ 'em together.
We’ll have none of your imperialist tidbits.
If I said you had a beautiful body, would you hold it against me… I am no longer infected.
His head smashed in, his heart cut out, His liver removed, and his bowels unplugged, His nostrils raped, and his bottom burned off…
Well surprisely not. The Canadian Minister for External Affairs fell nearly seven miles during a Liberal Conference in Ottawa about six years ago, and then quite recently the Kenyan Minister for Agric. and Fish fell nealy twelve miles during a Nairobi debate in Parliament, although this hasn’t ratified yet.
Listen, strange women lying in ponds distributing swords is no basis for a system of government.
Yes, it is.
You see that house? That is where I was born. My mother said to me, “Garcon. The world is a beautiful place, and you must spread joy and contentment everywhere you go”. And so I became a waiter… Well, I know it is not a great philosophy but…
No, Mongo, no!
Never kill a customer.
Regards,
Shodan
You tit! I soiled my armor I was so scared!
Ludwig, have you seen the jam spoon?
You’re no fun anymore.
And you can’t even get a glass of Rodney’s Red Barrel because you’re still in England with the bloody bar closes every time you’re thirsty. And the kids are crying and vomiting and breaking the plastic ashtrays. They keep telling you won’t be another hour, but you know damn well your plane is still in Iceland, because it had to turn back, trying to take a party of Swedes to take a party of Swedes to Yugoslavia. Of course it loads you up there at 3 a.m. in the morning. And then you sit on the tarmac for four hours because of unforeseen difficulties, i.e. the permanent strike of airtraffic control over Paris. When you finally get to Malaga airport, everybody’s cueing for the bloody toilet, and cueing for the bloody half-customs officers, and cueing for the bloody bus that isn’t there, waiting to take you to the hotel that hasn’t yet been built. When you finally get to the half-built----ruin called the Hotel Limassol, while paying half the holiday money to a license Spaniard in a taxi, there’s no water in the pool, there’s no water in the bath, there’s no water in the tap, there’s only a bleeding lizard in the bid‚, and half the rooms are doublebooked, and you can’t sleep anyhow, 'cause the permanent are in the jungles in the hotel next door. Meanwhile, the Spanish National Tourist Board promises that the raging cholera epidemic is merely a mild outbreak of the Spanish Conleigh, while the like of the previous outbreak in 1616 even the bloody rats are dying from it!
Luxury!
Now I’ve got to stand in the tea chest.
It’s not particularly silly, is it?
“The Roonettes Sing Medieval Agarian History”, please.
Regards,
Shodan