Tuesday, February 1, 2011

Careless Talk Costs Lives


We have bedecked the assistant chiropodists in the most outrageous fetish gear our fevered erotic longings demand and placed them at the compass points of our desires. Therefore, it is now time to settle down with a good book and a warm beverage of our choice, whilst we wait for the Management Accountant to come to temperature.

Still, while we are waiting it would be a good time for me to explain my long absence from this… this… alleged blogosphere* - whatever that is. At least, you would think so. Common courtesy, at least, would – you would think – necessitate some sort of explanation for my rather unseemly hasty desertion of this… er… whatever it is…. And, now – what to all intents and porpoises - seems like my – admittedly tentative - re-emergence, somewhat like the growing interest of a gentleman under the tender ministrations of a cake shop manageress in search of a coating of fresh cream for her baps...

However, let us just say that sometimes our government (as well as those who actually do run the country) do sometimes need a little specialised help in order to overcome the machinations of those who would wish to do harm to our beloved country. In this context, someone such as myself, with an extensive knowledge of undercover perversions and the full erotic potential of cream cakes, will sometimes get a call to come to the service of one’s country. Possibly in order to overcome such acts of incipient terrorism that could well threaten the safety of all the apple turnovers and chocolate ├ęclairs we hold dear.…

Well, I can safely say no more. But I feel you will get my drift.

Careless talk costs lives… and all that.


*It is called a sphere, apparently, because most of it is indistinguishable from bollocks.

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