We was too late… The Rev. Neuk saw the light.
Do you know that in our laboratories, we have developed a cheese sandwich that can withstand an impact of 4,000 pounds per square inch?
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.
Gulliver
No longer will food be squashed, crushed and damaged, by the ignorance and stupidity of the driver! Whole picnics will be built to withstand the most enormous forces! Snacks will be safer than ever! A simple pot of salad dressing, treated in our laboratories, has been subjected to the impact of a 4,000 pound steam hammer every day for the last sixteen years, and has it broken?
*Pither *
Er… well…
Gulliver
Yes, of course it has. But there are other ideas - the safety straps for sardines, for instance.
Ni! Ni! Ni! Ni! Ni! Ni! Ni! Ni! Ni!
P-I-T-H-E-R… as in Brotherhood, but with PI instead of the BRO and no HOOD.
It’s…
I’m not a Roman, Mum! I’m a kike, a yid, a heebie, a hook-nose - I’m kosher, Mum, I’m a Red Sea pedestrian, and proud of it!
It’s…
…the Dreaded Black Beast of Aaaaargh!!!
It’s…
No. 28. The naughty bits of the Cabinet.
Well, it was coughin’ up blood last night.
No one ever expects the Spanish Inquisition!
Is your name not Bruce, then?
The Minister of Technology met the three Russian leaders to discuss a 4 million pound airliner deal… None of them were indigenous to Australia, carried their young in pouches, or ate any of those yummy Eucalyptus leaves…Yum Yum. That’s the news for wombats… now Attila the Hun.
Black as the ace of spades!
What about us atheists? Why should we 'ave to listen to that sectarian turmoil?
When Martin Luther nailed his protest up to the church door in fifteen-seventeen, he may not have realized the full significance of what he was doing, but four hundred years later, thanks to him, my dear, I can wear whatever I want on my John Thomas. And, Protestantism doesn’t stop at the simple condom! Oh, no! I can wear French Ticklers if I want. French Ticklers. Black Mambos. Crocodile Ribs. Sheaths that are designed not only to protect, but also to enhance the stimulation of sexual congress. Have I got one? Uh, well, no, but I can go down the road any time I want and walk into Harry’s and hold my head up high and say in a loud, steady voice: “Harry, I want you to sell me a condom. In fact, today, I think I’ll have a French Tickler, for I am a Protestant!”
“All wood burns,” states Sir Bedevere. “Therefore,” he concludes, “all that burns is wood.” This is, of course, pure bullshit. Universal affirmatives can only be partially converted: all of Alma Cogan is dead, but only some of the class of dead people are Alma Cogan. “Oh yes,” one would think. However, my wife does not understand this necessary limitation of the conversion of a proposition; consequently, she does not understand me. For how can a woman expect to appreciate a professor of logic, if the simplest cloth-eared syllogism causes her to flounder?