Afternoon campers, and thanks for calling back.
My life at the moment can only be described “troublesome”. I am in essence “getting shafted” from all angles.
Like a great white hunter, my detractors and stalkers are closing in for the final kill, and I suspect that my days as a major political force within this Borough are numbered.
McWoody is claiming I have the smell of death about me. I normally blame my Hai Karate after shave when such an aroma issue raises its head. This time I can’t – it was pinched when I was burgled!
However, whenever I am on one of my major dickey downers, I am reminded of the words of that great Conservative philosopher, Black Adder The Third.
“My every path is strewn with the cow pats from the devils own satanic herd”.
Stinker Milburn (grrr) claims to have a plan to save my very ample behind. Sadly, Black Adder has already cast his eye over it:
“There was a tiny flaw in the plan – it was bollocks”
I’m doomed dear punter, doomed!
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