You sit there on your loathsome, spotty behinds squeezing blackheads, not caring a tinker’s cuss about the struggling artist!
Rotating knives, yes.
Nug nug, wink wink, say no more.
All right, but apart from the sanitation, medicine, education, wine, public order, irrigation, roads, the fresh water system and public health, what have the Romans ever done for us?
Oh sod the abattoir, that’s not important. But if any of you could put in a word for me I’d love to be a mason. Masonry opens doors. I’d be very quiet, I was a bit on edge just now but if I were a mason I’d sit at the back and not get in anyone’s way.
August 23rd. Fell off near Budleigh Salterton.
And, if you think you got a nasty taunting this time, you ain’t heard nothing yet!
My brain hurts!
Well, being a member of the Conservative Party, all I can do is drone on and on, never letting anyone get a word in edgewise, until I turn blue in the face and start to foam at the mouth and fall over backwards.
August 26th. Fell off near Ottery St Mary. The pump caught in my trouser leg. Decided to wear short trousers from now on.
Anarcho-syndicalism is a way of preserving freedom.
Fell off near Tiverton. Perhaps a shorter pump is the answer.
Oh, come come, don’t play games with me, my Lord of Buckingham.
She’s bloody dying and all you bring us is lupins. All we’ve eaten mate for the last four bleeding weeks is lupin soup, roast lupin, steamed lupin, braised lupin in lupin sauce, lupin in the basket with sauted lupins, lupin meringue pie, lupin sorbet. We sit on lupins, we sleep in lupins, we feed the cat on lupins, we burn lupins, we even wear the bloody things!
The cat’s just choked itself to death on them!
I think they look rather smart.
We are the Judean People’s Front crack suicide squad!
Suicide squad, attack!
“bicycle pump centre. Specialists in shorter bicycle pumps.”
“short pumps available here”
“we shorten pumps while-u-wait”
And this is my wife, Audrey. She smells a bit, but she has a heart of gold.
Shut up you bitch.