Man and manatee, woman and wombat, landed in gentry, christened in combat, there’s a crack in the esprit d’armor.
Millie made muffins for the multitude but jesus got all the credit. Credit where credit is due, by gum.
Pepe popped in to the peep-o-rama but it turned out he was in his cups and the pope got the coats of the many coloureds and those of the rug riders. He pulled the rugs out from under them. That’s the way things go during the decline of the umpire.
Forgive me for poisoning your well but it was all in the spirit of jest.
As, jest you wait until I get ahold of you. Then we’ll see who’s the cock of the robin and who’s a ward of the state. You got to have balls to become a bowler. You got to have the shits to become a plumber. You got to have your head examined to become a shrink
the lady in waiting had a quilted foundation and the garment of a gamin a profusion of profundities poured from her pudendum holy mackerel and clams for us all at the coquille saint jack
My grandfather told this story to me, then he died laughing despite the pain of the stone.