Oh, blimey. You’d think he was awake all the night, scrabbling down by the wainscotting.
I think it’s be more appropriate if the box bore a great red label: WARNING: Lark’s Vomit!
It’s Deirdre.
Good evening. Here is the news for Parrots. No parrots were involved in an accident on the M1 today when a lorry carrying high-octane fuel was in collision with a bollard. That’s a bollard and not a parrot. A spokesman for parrots said he was glad no parrots were involved.
It is an ex-parrot.
Vivian Smith-Smythe-Smith has an O-level in chemo-hygiene. Simon-Zinc-Trumpet-Harris, married to a very attractive table lamp.
Maybe it’s from the zoo.
Have you got anything without spam?
You know, not attractive to men, Sir.
Nigel Incubator-Jones, his best friend is a tree, and in his spare time he’s a stockbroker. Gervaise Brook-Hampster is in the Guards, and his father uses him as a wastepaper basket.
Replying, the Shadow Minister said he could no longer deny the rumors, but he and the Dachshund were very happy.
And finally Oliver St. John-Mollusc, Harrow and the Guards, thought by many to be this year’s outstanding twit. Now they’re moving up to the starting line, there’s a jolly good crowd here today.
Arthur Figgis is an idiot. A village idiot. Tonight we look at the idiot in society.
Have the new paper clips arrived, Enid?
I’m, I’m afraid there’s been a mistake. The man who has been speaking to you is an impostor. He is not in fact the Bishop of East Anglia, but a man wanted by the police.Iam the Bishop of East Anglia and anyone who doesn’t believe me can look me up in the book. Now then, the first prize is this beautiful silver cup, which has been won by me.Next we come to the Fairfax Atkinson Trophy for outstanding achievement in the field of Applied Mathematics. Well, there was no-one this year who reached the required standard so it goes in my sack. And by an old rule of the school all the other silver trophies also go in my sack … aaagh!
Blasphemy! He’s said it again!
Well ladies and gentlemen, I don’t think any of our contestants this evening have succeeded in encapsulating the intricacies of Proust’s masterwork, so I’m going to award the first prize this evening to the girl with the biggest tits.
Now, go away or I shall taunt you a second time.
Hegel is arguing that the reality is merely an a priori adjunct of non-naturalistic ethics, Kant via the categorical imperative is holding that ontologically it exists only in the imagination, and Marx is claiming it was offside.
Now they’re under starter’s orders … and they’re off!
(the starter fires the gun; nobody moves)
Ah no, they’re not. No, they didn’t realize they were supposed to start. Never mind, we’ll soon sort that out, the judge is explaining it to them now. I think Nigel and Gervaise have got the idea. All set to go.