Lately there seems to have been a lot of idle tittle-tattle about the corpus mentis state of yours truly.
For the record, market trading in second hand Sky Remotes (batteries not included) is a risky business and requires 100% sobriety, commitment and attention. Their value can fluctuate at the drop of a bowler hat. Only last week stallholders in Darlington were left virtually destitute and on their honkers when a drunken rogue trader actually offered to include batteries with his remotes! What a cad. I can tell you his alcohol fuelled frolics nearly led to several stately homes being repossessed by the Council. Personally, I lost all my reserves. I was forced to sell my collection of Cliff Richard coloured vinyl LP’s in order to underpin my portfolio. Stability only returned to trading conditions when it emerged that the bounder’s batteries were all flat………
Let me assure you, I don’t have a drink problem; I’ve never spilt one, I never forget to put them on council expenses and I never drink anything less than 40% proof. There was however, an unfortunate experience at Stinker Milburn’s recent peasant (sorry pheasant) shoot. I am sure readers will agree, in the haze of a darkened bathroom, apricot scented “Toilet Duck” could easily be mistaken for peach flavoured Schnapps. Luckily, no long lasting internal damage was done, though the old breath did have the slight aroma of a tarts boudoir!
Recent accusations and insinuations are therefore nothing more than an attempt to slur my words (sorry, that should read “character”. I must get a new keyboard; all the letters on mine are blurred.)
I digress from the trodden path dear ramblers. The moral here is that a little bit of drink does you no harm, especially when someone else is paying.
Must dash, the admirable Rigg has just entered the library with the first of my “five a day” vitamin intakes; Vimto and Vodka!
Ching ching campers, ching ching!
For the record, market trading in second hand Sky Remotes (batteries not included) is a risky business and requires 100% sobriety, commitment and attention. Their value can fluctuate at the drop of a bowler hat. Only last week stallholders in Darlington were left virtually destitute and on their honkers when a drunken rogue trader actually offered to include batteries with his remotes! What a cad. I can tell you his alcohol fuelled frolics nearly led to several stately homes being repossessed by the Council. Personally, I lost all my reserves. I was forced to sell my collection of Cliff Richard coloured vinyl LP’s in order to underpin my portfolio. Stability only returned to trading conditions when it emerged that the bounder’s batteries were all flat………
Let me assure you, I don’t have a drink problem; I’ve never spilt one, I never forget to put them on council expenses and I never drink anything less than 40% proof. There was however, an unfortunate experience at Stinker Milburn’s recent peasant (sorry pheasant) shoot. I am sure readers will agree, in the haze of a darkened bathroom, apricot scented “Toilet Duck” could easily be mistaken for peach flavoured Schnapps. Luckily, no long lasting internal damage was done, though the old breath did have the slight aroma of a tarts boudoir!
Recent accusations and insinuations are therefore nothing more than an attempt to slur my words (sorry, that should read “character”. I must get a new keyboard; all the letters on mine are blurred.)
I digress from the trodden path dear ramblers. The moral here is that a little bit of drink does you no harm, especially when someone else is paying.
Must dash, the admirable Rigg has just entered the library with the first of my “five a day” vitamin intakes; Vimto and Vodka!
Ching ching campers, ching ching!
No comments:
Post a Comment