Strange indeed be the thoughts that clamber into one’s cranium whilst cleaning the tombstones:
As I was walking down the street
I met a man with seven feet
It seemed so odd I do confess
I wish he had just five feet less
That’s it - I’ve lost it. My mind, that is, not the extra 5 feet, coz then I’d only be 6in and get trodden on by big booted babes - although some people would pay good money for that! Isn’t there a Trample Club in Norwich...
And we’re not talking about a trample-een, what you bounce up and down on (not to be confused with tramp ho Lynnes - IE skanky chavvy shagabouts, all of whom are coincidentally named Lynne)
I would play Devils Advocaat here, and put forth an opposing view to the sexual stereotyping* of chavettes, but as the DAs office is all about tush shakin’ topless trollops writhing about on poles, I shan’t bother (although I wouldnt mind a bit of writhing on some pretties from Poland). And Horny Hannah in what used to be Manhattan’s (not to mention Primeval) is just as bad!
"Aharr - be there any dubloons in da house? Dis shout’s for you big dog!" (that was a booty call - I hear they’re quite popular these days)...
...or something!
* WHAT’S ALL THE FUSS ABOUT STEREOTYPING? IF BE DEAD CHUFFED IF I COULD TYPE WITH BOTH HANDS AT THE SAME TIME. LEFT HAND COULD BE UPDATING MY RIDICULOUS BLOG, AND THE RIGHT HAND PONCING ABOUT ON FACEBOOK APPS. I’D BE A TAD WORRIED ABOUT 5.1 SURROUND TYPING THOUGH, AS YOU’D HAVE TO LEARN TO TYPE WITH NOT ONLY BOTH HANDS, BUT YOUR TOES ON BOTH FEET. AND YOUR NOSE. THAT LEAVES THE .1, WHICH YOU’D HAVE TO FIND ANOTHER EXTREMITY FOR - MAYBE YOU’R NOB, OR A ’STRAP-ON’ FOR THE LADIES.
AH, BUT IF I HAD THOSE SEVEN FEET, THERE’D BE NO PROBLEM.
APART FROM GETTING TROUSERS.
