:::enters witness stand, clears throat:::
Please take that bible away, I’ve brought a copy of “Triumph of the Straight Dope” instead. Not allowed ? Who’s taking an oath here, you or me ? Sheesh. Sorry, I mean Sheesh, your honour. Yeahyeahyeah, the truth and nothing but, could we move along ?
Right, this is what happened: On or about 04:00 on Sunday morning, I reluctantly approached Casa Coldy where I was unfortunate enough to share a room with the defendant. The defendant was indeed laying on the aforementioned couch, but there were no signs of wanking or wanking-like activities. Nor, for that matter, did I observe activities connected with the preparation for wanking (such as, but not limited to, removal of trousers). No jazz mags were in view, and apart from an inflatable pig, there was nothing to indicate that any activities of a libidinous character had taken place. And finally, there was no sign of post-wanking activities, the details of which I’d rather not go into. Well, your honour, the sort of activities sometimes involving Cleenex or other sorts of tissue paper. If you’d rather not know, why do you ask ?
The defendant was, as stated, sprawled on the couch, looking remarkably relaxed. However, I estimate (as a layman, but, being male and normal, a layman with - ehm - first-hand experience of wanking) that the defendant was not demonstrating any interest in said activity. As a matter of fact, I could see no sign of interest in anything at all. For instance, the defendant had shown no interest in removing his shoes before crashing on the couch. Furthermore, had the defendant demonstrated an interest for the aforementioned activity, I remain firmly convinced that he would be unable to wank worth a damn, due to a state of inebriation worthy of an Irishman around St. Patricks day.
May I leave the stand, your honour ? Thank you.
::: Leaves stand, looks around, recognizes a face and is immediately lost to the world:::