Philip! Philip! Look! It's just as if I am on the telly!
Sarah refused to stay at home, even though Gordon had superglued her spectacles case to her head.
For God's sake woman, who the fuck are these people? I thought we were going to the Chessington World of Adventure.
No, David, I don't want to hold hands. You seem to have forgotten that I did not go to Eton.
The "Heigh-ho" song was always one of Liz's favourites.
Neither of them would admit to cutting the cheese, and managed to keep a straight face for over 36 minutes.
"What do you have under your gown?""Your momma!"
This year's erotic dancer adopted a black tights and giant pepper dispenser theme. "Sleaze and Sneeze".
No, we confiscated your wand and cauldron on the way in, you vile old ratbag, now sit down and shut the fuck up before you curdle any more milk.
Gerald had gone to great lengths to ensure that he had enough spare wigs for his Mae West tribute act.
Ever since she had seen "Cleopatra" it had been Liz's dream to be rolled out of a carpet down a very long corridor.
Hundreds of Father Christmases staged a sit in to protest about the proposed tax on beards.
The lads practise for the skittles tournament. Last year Edwin managed to topple Nicholas Soames.
Wait until you hear what I said about you in the speech. You'll piss yourself!
Liz read the script, and wondered who in hell had requested Take That to appear.
Gord and Dave were equally perplexed as to which party Jimmy Krankie represented, and why he got precedence over them.
You'll never believe this shit! And here's me supposed to read it out as if it is for real.
You will shit yourself when you hear what Philip is going to say to you.
Get a move on, you old trout, I want to get home before Countdown.
12 comments:
It's just like real life.
Congratulations! You have won the Internet today! Great job of luring me away from facebook!
HAHAHA!
You can kiss your title goodbye, but it was well worth it eh?
Bloody hilarious.
I hear they have cable TV in the Tower now, how bad could it be?
I've often wondered if I'd ever see a pictorial representation of Death Warmed Up.
Thatcher really is the grim reaper.
Hahahahahaha ... I done a huge LOL (to borrow a phrase.
you've curdled the milk in my coffee
Thank you, Vicus. Balm to the soul of an expat in republican France.
(Is Jimmy Crankie now the mace-bearer? Jings. Must have been one of Gorbals Mick's appointments. I hear he was burnt in effigy in Lewes on Bonfire night.)
next time you see Queenie please tell her she needs stronger elastic in her brassiere, thank you.
This is very funny. I'm surprised they let you in with a camera.
To paraphrase "I, Like The View"...
You've curdled the milk in my jugs.
About one sixth of a fluid ounce, then.
Shame nobody said "Let's get the fuck out of Europe!"
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