This place stinks like a pair of armoured trousers after the Hundred Years War. Baldrick, have you been eating dung again?
We're about as similar as two completely dissimilar things in a pod.
My head... oh, my head... feels like the time I was initiated into the Silly Buggers Society at Cambridge. I misheard the rules and tried to push a whole aubergine up my earhole.
You see the ancient Greeks, your Highness, wrote in legend of a terrible container in which all the evils of the world were trapped. How prophetic they were. All they got wrong was the name. They called it 'Pandora's Box', when of course they meant 'Baldrick's Trousers'.
Ha ! I laugh at danger and drop ice cubes down the vest of fear.
As my tutor, old bubble face, used to say: "make love and be merry, for tomorrow you may catch some disgusting skin disease."
A man may fight for many things. His country, his friends, his principles, the glistening ear on the cheek of a golden child. But personally, I'd mud-wrestle my own mother for a ton of cash, an amusing clock and a sack of French porn.
Sunday, January 13, 2008
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5 comments:
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