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...me 'roids are bad this morning.
Just had to get the Vicar of St. Benifice's-in-the-Wold round to push 'em
back in.

The size of fuckin' grapefruit they were, I swear......

McCavity gribble schwing O'Malley p'tui-p'tui eek eek eek schnorrr reticulitis
major eek.

Do you still keep that block and tackle by the side of your bed to assist you with them? I'll send you some armourlite cream for them it's used by all the vets I know.

As it happens, when the Governor-General of Martinique popped round the
other day for some muffins [as is his habit on a Tuesday morning] I must
admit he seemd a little shocked to see the Adjutant's arm in there up to the
wrist.

However, once we had explained, all was well, and we had a big titter and
three chortles about it whilst doing some really good snort. Oh, how we
laughed......

Yes, thev'e a fine sense of humour those boy's and expert's in their field, that Adjutant's so quick it's not true, but has a habit of leaving his 'rolex' up yer passage.

And I have the deepest respect for the Church of England.
They absolutely have the most moral perverts.

He's always thinking of himself Maggs, me... me... me, as if we wanted to know about his bastard 'chalfonts' he probably got them sitting on the line while he was trainspotting.
pompus young oaf.