Go away you silly little bleeder. I am having another man.
And Miles Yellowbird, up high in banana tree, the golfer and inventor of Catholicism.
As I lay down to the sound of the Russian gentlemen practising their shooting, I realised I was in a bit of a pickle. My heart sank as I realised I should never see the Okehampton by-pass again.
Ugh. Me heap dizzy.
I’d like a bit of pram please…
This is of course symptomatic of a new breed of footballer as it is indeed symptomatic of your whole genre of player, is it not?
Look, if we built this large wooden badger …
They’ve bled us white, the bastards. They’ve taken everything we had, and not just from us, from our fathers, and from our fathers’ fathers.
Eee I was all hungry like!
<pant pant pant>
<pant pant pant>
It’s…
And from our father’s fathers father’s fathers!
Shhh! Knights, I bid you welcome to your new home. Let us ride… to Camelot!
That’s a very personal question!
Shall we stop it?
It’s only a model.
Shhh..
Now, old lady – you have one last chance. Confess the heinous sin of heresy, reject the works of the ungodly – two last chances. And you shall be free – three last chances. You have three last chances, the nature of which I have divulged in my previous utterance.
He has, however, chosen a very obvious hiding place.
… come no further, for death awaits you all with nasty, big, pointy teeth!
Stop! Stop, will you?! Stop that! Stop it! Now, look! No one is to stone anyone until I blow this whistle! Do you understand?! Even, and I want to make this absolutely clear, even if they do say “Jehovah.”