Yes, the mollusk is a randy little fellow whose primitive brain scarcely strays from the subject of the you know what.
Isn’t it awfully nice to have a penis?
Hey, look. Howard’s being eaten.
It was a most elusive fish.
Splunge!
And finally, monsieur, a wafer-thin mint.
Lucky we didn’t say anything about the dirty knife.
Oh! What wouldn’t I give to be spat at in the face! I sometimes hang awake at night dreaming of being spat at in the face…
Oh, oh, ‘courtesan’, oh aren’t we grand. Harlot’s not good enough for us eh? Paramour, concubine, fille de joie. That’s what we are not. Well listen to me my fine fellow, you are a bit of tail, that’s what you are.
You get Gone with the Wind, Les Miserables by Victor Hugo, The French Lieutenant’s Woman and with every third book you get dung.
Proust’s novel ostensibly tells of the irrevocability of time lost, the forfeiture of innocence through experience, the reinstallment of extra-temporal values of time regained, ultimately the novel is both optimistic and set within the context of a humane religious experience, re-stating as it does the concept of intemporality. In the first volume, Swarm, the family friend visits…
Oh, cut your own head off!
Right! Stop that! It’s SILLY. Very SILLY indeed! Started off as a nice little idea about old ladies attacking young men, but now it’s just got SILLY! His hair’s too long for a vicar, too, and you can tell those are not proper keep-left signs! Clear out, the lot of you!
And do you in fact have two sheds?
Where?
Cor, what a lovely bit of stuff. I’d like to get my fingers around those knockers.
Oh, good morning. Umm, have you come to arrange a holiday or would you like a blow job?
The Roonettes Sing Medieval Agrarian History, please.
Regards,
Shodan
I can’t tell the difference between Whizzo butter and this dead crab.
He used sarcasm. He knew all the tricks, dramatic irony, metaphor, bathos, puns, parody, litotes and satire.