Tuesday, October 25, 2005


Got to my mickey, found me way up the apples, put on me whistle and the bloody trouble went telling me to fetch the tommy tucker. I was done being a mumper, I was, and bloody hank marvin for a jimmy riddle of holy ghost. The kitchen was arse-about-face but I aimed to do a tightener and fry up me eggs. I had the dead cert clobber on for the job so I knew my tucker would go down a treat! The dollymop was coopered on me fried egg sandwich and pulled a metal mickey for crying out three days straight she did! To top it off its a bit taters so I was wearing me centre half-- you know the hampden. I'm a bit 'arry at the moment so daffadown dilly eggs is all I had for me sup. The love and kisses only wanted a "soy banana smoothie", so I said "don't get lemon wiv me!". I'm no 'arris so off to rubber duck I went. Blimey it was taters -- I felt I es gawn down, doin' bird! Right then- I said bag for life, get that kettle on the arfur. The right way to make me eggs is tops of pull down the shutter, extra Johnny Rutter, and a pat of stammer and stutter. Picadilly Percy thats a top-notch me-and-you if I don't say so me-self!