Bundle my fundies. We’ve had a terrible Bernard and now the Kettleys reckon it’s going to be a rough old Bernie. Little wonder the well thumbed Gary is turning his bleasdales to a sweet sixteener for when the Peter & Dan comes.
I’ve always had a soft spot for the old Suzi Palmer-Tomk and there was a well filled example up the hammers at Lurching last Wogan. Fat packets, firm breeze, honey to the bee. Watched it get touched up the hat rack for a spaniel under nine grahams. I don’t know what Angela puts in her chutney but it gives me absolutely frightful wind. Slightly.
Talking to me old mate ‘Violence’ Alan last Turdy. He’s getting ready for the damp Garys wanting fourbees when the Wednesbury turds and bagged himself a smooth pubed Banzai Shotgun. Wind, moo and seedy, only 45 kevs on the clicker. Bummed his mum for a fudge under six gypsies. The funny thing is that Helen was finding jam under the units for a good six months afterwards. Crisply.
For the Gary with a bit more tango to mango, you can’t do better than the good old Strange Dog. Yea, even the latest ronsons have had problems with the Bernard ‘n’ Johnnys and the front Needell but you can’t beat ‘em for turning up to any occasion and licking your sister. If you can take the pain of the wet kestrel, a sleek faced McGowan with the Screamer big plate and a basket full of cats (including cow, con and commands) could be yours for nine plums and a weasel. The question is Lillian, what was an archbishop doing with one of your skirts in the first place? Minty.