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.
Now it’s all gotten rather silly.
You’re not even a proper woman!
I see, I see, I get the picture.
Snap snap, grin grin, wink wink, nudge nudge, say n’more?
A good attempt there but unfortunately he chose a general appraisal of the work, before getting on to the story and as you can see he only got as far as page one of ‘Swarm’s Way’, the first of the seven volumes. A good try though and very nice posture.
Well, this is true to form, no surprises there. He started five of his eleven novels to date with a definite article. We’ve had two of them with ‘IT’, there has been one ‘BUT’, two 'AT’s, one ‘ON’ and a ‘Delores.’ Oh, that of course was never published.
Penguins, yes, penguins. What relevance do penguins have to the furtherance of medical science? Well, strangely enough quite a lot, a major breakthrough, maybe. It was from such an unlikely beginning as an unwanted fungus accidentally growing on a sterile plate that Sir Alexander Fleming gave the world penicillin. James Watt watched an ordinary household kettle boiling and conceived the potentiality of steam power. Would Albert Einstein ever have hit upon the theory of relativity if he hadn’t been clever? All these tremendous leaps forward have been taken in the dark. Would Rutherford ever have split the atom if he hadn’t tried? Could Marconi have invented the radio if he hadn’t by pure chance spent years working at the problem? Are these amazing breakthroughs ever achieved except by years and years of unremitting study? Of course not. What I said earlier about accidental discoveries must have been wrong. Nevertheless scientists believe that these penguins, these comic flightless web-footed little bastards, may finally, unwittingly, help man to fathom the uncharted depths of the human mind.
I’m opening up a boutique Brian,
Oh, intercourse the penguin.
No, no – the word, ‘intercourse’. Good and woody. ‘Inter-course.’ ‘Pert,’ ‘pert,’ ‘thighs,’ ‘botty,’ ‘botty,’ ‘botty,’ ‘erogenous zo-o-one’. Ha ha ha ha – oh, ‘concubine’, ‘erogenous zo-o-one’, ‘loose woman’, ‘erogenous zone’…
Why not start her off with a nice kiss? You don’t have to go leaping straight for the clitoris like a bull at a gate.
Shut up. It’s a disguise. Right! Confiscate the smutty books, Maddox.
I use two kinds of aftershave lotions - Frankincense, Myrrh - three kinds of aftershave lotions, Frankincense, Myrrh, Sandalwood - four kinds of aftershave lotion. Frankincense, …
What if he’s got a poin-ted stick?
Shut Up!
You’re a Knight of the Round Table!?
Right. You’re in.
Then you’ll be Arthur ‘No Sheds’ Jackson?
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.