Unfortunately, one of them, my son Herbert, has just fallen to his death.
Good riddance to him, the freeloading bastard. I hope he fries.
Oh, right away sport. Right away… you know… I haven’t had it for weeks…
Their father Arthur Piranha, a scrap metal dealer and TV quizmaster, was well known to the police, and a devout Catholic. In 1928 he had married Kitty Malone, an up-and-coming East End boxer. Doug was born in February 1929 and Dinsdale two weeks later, and again a week after that.
It’s Deirdre.
Top-hole. Bally Jerry, pranged his kite right in the how’s your father. Hairy blighter, dicky-birdied, feathered back on his Sammy, took a waspy, flipped over on his Betty Harper’s and caught his can in the Bertie.
At the age of fifteen Doug and Dinsdale started attending the Ernest Pythagoras Primary School in Clerkenwell. When the Piranhas left school they were called up, but were found by an Army board to be too unstable even for National Service.
While precious time was being lost in Canada, the seconds were ticking away for the free world…
The Royal Shakespearean Company Presents:
Gay Boys in Bondage
Regards,
Shodan
We’re going to have our budgie put down.
The BBC would like to announce that the next scene is not considered suitable for family viewing. It contains scenes of violence, involving people’s heads and arms getting chopped off, their ears nailed to trees, and their toenails pulled out in slow motion. There are also scenes of naked women with floppy breasts, and also at one point you can see a pair of buttocks and there’s another bit where I’ll swear you can see everything, but my friend says it’s just the way he’s holding the spear… Because of the unsuitability of the scene, the BBC will be replacing it with a scene from a repeat of ‘Gardening Club’ for 1958.
The sacred volcano Andu! Which no man has seen before.
The British Airline Pilots Association would like to point out that it takes a chap six years to become a fully qualifed airline pilot, and not two.
This is zany madcap humour.
Another man who had his head nailed to the floor was Stig O’Tracy.
*I’m the urban spaceman baby I’ve got speed,
I’ve got everything I need.*
Well, don’t you see, that was exactly the kind of explicit sexual reference I’m objecting to. It’s titillation for the sake of it. A deliberate attempt at cheap sensationalism. I don’t care what the so-called avant-garde, left-wing, intellectual namby-pambies say… It is filth!
Shut up! Oh, it drives me mad.
Oh Joseph, all you think about is balloons… all you talk about is balloons. Your beautiful house is full of bits and pieces of balloons… your books are all about balloons… every time you sing a song, it is in some way obliquely connected with balloons… everything you eat has to have ‘balloon’ incorporated in the title… your dogs are all called ‘balloono’… you tie balloons to your ankles in the evenings.
You took out the… tummy reference, then?