Spam spam spam spam spam spam…
Lemon curry?
Have you got anything without spam?
Rat cake, rat sorbet, rat pudding, or strawberry tart.
Silence, foul temptress!
Well, you’d be surprised, actually, sir. The Tudor economy’s booming, ever since Sir Humphrey Gilbert opened up the Northwest passage to Cathay, and the Cabots’ expansion in Canada, there’s been a tremendous surge in exports, and trade with the Holy Roman Empire is going… no, quite right, it’s no good at all.
Shut up, Stebbins! I haven’t finished. Oh, by the way, congratulations on winning the Italian Grand Prix at Monza.
Dennis Moore, Dennis Moore
Riding through the land
Dennis Moore, Dennis Moore
Without a merry band
He steals from the poor
And gives to the rich
Stupid bitch.
I am not a loony!
No, please! This is supposed to be a happy occasion! Let’s not bicker and argue about who killed who. We are here today to witness the union of two young people in the joyful bond of the holy wedlock. Unfortunately, one of them, my son Herbert, has just fallen to his death.
The police are anxious to speak to anyone who saw the crime, ladies with large breasts, or just anyone who likes policemen.
It’s people like you what causes unrest!
Right, Slit Eyes Yakomoto, I’m arresting you for the impersonation of Signor Luchino Visconti, famous Italian director of such movie classics as ‘Ossessione’ 1942, ‘La Tetra Trema’ 1948, and ‘Bellissima’ 1951 - a satisfying ironic slice-of-life drama. 1957 brought to the silver screen his ‘I Bianche Notre’ adapted by Dostoyevsky, a mannered and romantic melancholy of snow and mist and moonlit encounters on canal bridges. ‘Boccaccio 70’ followed five years later and the following year saw ‘The Leopard’! So impressed was I with this motion picture treatment of the Risorgimento that I went along to Somerset House and changed me own name to Leopard, preferring it to me original handle, ‘Panther’. I digress. 1969 saw ‘The Damned’, a Götterdämmerung epic of political and industrial shennanigans in good old Nazi Germany, starring Helmut Berger as a stinking transvestite what should have his face sawn off, the curvaceous Charlotte Rampling as a bit of tail, and the impeccable Dirk Bogarde as Von Essen. The association of the latter with Signor Visconti fructified with Dirk’s magnificent portrayal of the elderly poof what expires in Venice. And so, Yakomoto… blimey, he gone! Never mind. I’ll have you instead.
What are you going to do, bleed on me?
Blackitt! Blackie! Look at him. He worked on that cake like no one else I’ve ever know. Some nights it was so cold, we could hardly move, but Blackie’d be out there slicing the lemons, mixing the sugar and the almonds. I mean, you try trying to get butter to melt at fifteen degrees below zero! There’s love in that cake. This man’s love, and this man’s care, and this m— [boom] Aaighh!
Yes, m’lud. Twenty-three-year-old Abigail hails from down under, where they’re upside down about her. Those Aussies certainly know a thing or two when it comes to beach belles. Bet some life-saver wouldn’t mind giving her the kiss of life. So watch out for sharks, Abigail!
We done passionfruit!
Spam spam spam spam spam spam…
Ni!
I am not a loonie!!