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Story No. 1008
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"Show me the child until seven and I値l show you the man". So I did. For seven years I took my child to church to show the vicar, and finally I was able to demand of the vicar, "now show me the man." The twat was lost for words. I reminded him
of the last atrocity with the terrible, indecent accident involving the small Indian boy from Bengal
who later turned out to be a small Indian girl from Bengal when they all needed to use the communal showers. I pretended I hadn't noticed, after all it was none of my business. Meanwhile, I had to work out how to start the engine on our small motor-boat.
PLUT-PLUT-PLUUUUUUUUUT. I sounded very much like a
sausage roll being squeezed out of a very tight but well lubicated ubber glove. "Crash!" the sound of huge cymbals rang out, sending scurrying all the little
children into the forest. Freeing from the nasty insanity of the M4 corridor. Who could blame them?
- Contributors:
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The Bishop of Southwark -
Raaaa -
Big Vadge Madge -
Vern Acula -
Ray Reardon
[ See who wrote what ]
