Well, to tell the truth, in all the excitement I kind of lost track myself!
On Sunday, I forgot to include the The Hoosiers being seriously worried about rakes.
Not Bryonesque rampant shaggery types, but the leaf gathering apparatus. Although, to be fair, they should really be worried about syphilis ridden beanpole male groupies.
Even worse if said sex-hungry groupie was Barry "George" Scott, leaping out of the shrubbery behind the Marshall amps, and doing them a death with a shot of clit bang (allegedly, based on a miniscule atom of the powerful cleaning agent in his pocket).
Bang! And the fannybatters gone (from Ms Leeming's dildo)...
