But our sales would plummet!
- And now the Stock Market Report by Exchange Telegraph.
- Trading was crisp at the start of the day with some brisk business on the floor. Rubber hardened and string remained confident. Little bits of tin consolidated although biscuits sank after an early gain and stools remained anonymous. Armpits rallied well after a poor start. Nipples rose dramatically during the morning but had declined by mid-afternoon, while teeth clenched and buttocks remained firm. […]
:: smack ::
And while that’s going on, here is the news for gibbons.
Shall I “thwow” him to the floor, sir?
I use an aftershave called Semprini.
Yes. Vewy woughwy!
A loony, but not a bachelor - Sir K. Joseph
and it’s just one of the many millions and billions in this galaxy we call the Milky Way
The BBC would to apologize for the following announcement.
I want to buy some cheese!
A perfectly ordinary morning in a perfectly ordinary English suburb. Life goes on as it has done for years.
I used to wake Ken up with a crowbar on the back of the head. But I recently found that this was too far from his brain and I wasn’t getting through to him anymore. So I now wake him up with a steel peg driven into his skull with a mallet.
Well, there’s egg and bacon; egg sausage and bacon; egg and spam; egg, bacon and spam; egg, bacon, sausage and spam; spam, bacon, sausage and spam; spam, egg, spam, spam, bacon and spam; spam, spam, spam, egg and spam; spam, spam, spam, spam, spam, spam, baked beans, spam, spam, spam and spam; or Lobster thermidor aux crevettes with a mornay sauce garnished with truffle pâté, brandy and with a fried egg on top and spam.
Constable Clitoris ate one o’ those not half an hour ago.
You don’t cook a piston engine!
Well, you can’t eat it raw.
I’m invincible!
Nasty little piece of work, he is, I hate him!
Stupid git!
‘Fractured tibia, sergeant’? ‘Fractured tibia, sergeant’? Ooh. Proper little mummy’s boy, aren’t we? Well, I’ll tell you something, my fine friend, if you fracture a tibia here you keep quiet about it!