Finding a needle in a haystack is a piece of piss! Especially if you got a couple of magnets and a metal detector!
And if the haystack in question is Giant Haystacks, it's probably in his volumous beard, and dead easy to pluck out!
It does, however, beg the question: Why would anyone go looking for needles in haystacks? Clearly not the seamstress at work, for it would drop on her lap, or to the side, and easily pick-upable. Of course, if the seamstress is at play, with some rampant muscular stagehand, she could well indeed spill all her needles into the straw - and probably find them all as they poke her up the ass whilst being poked in some acupunctural shagathon.
Besides, if you did lose all your needles, you'd just think "fuck it" and buy a new pack from Jarrolds, not piss about hunting through the hay for a piddly pinpricker. Worse comes to the worse, you're out in the country, so there's always a handy hedgeryhog available (and you've a handy weapon to deter ramblers orf yior lahhhnd).
And so it begins-a
Needles from Quills-a
Still, at least it's not needles in quims-a, like some female Albert Fish in a sadomasochistic farmery lifesize voodoo dollybird sexfest, rogering the chickens and ripping off big black cocks heads off for Barone Sameday Sameshit to create Zombified gap year students to toil upon turnips and allow much ploughage of her furrows.
An' suchlike!
