Not content with nicking essential items, that gorram Stamp Gnome has gone one step further with his thievery.
He's only gone and nicked me larynx!
A relief to all and sundry, all my vocal chords can emit is a guttural wheeze, more suited to chanting at esoteric rituals invoking ye olde ones whilst being subjected to the rites of cthonic irrigation. Or like that big fat black bloke in Live And Let Die.
"Your champagne, sir!"
Maybe a healthy diet can rectify it!
Prior to funerary travelature, I ordered one of them graze boxes. True to form, on my return, it had been slipped through the letterbox, and I tripped over it and grazed me knee.
Losing weight by the scraping off of bits of the outer layer of skin does seem a bit of a long haul to reduce the vast tonnage about the larditude and porkitude of my stomachey circumference!
Sim Salabin! Lets combine it with Xym's Salad Din(ner), for I have much to live for (such as you, my pretty blog reading goddess of beauty), instead of eating meself to death! For whilst in the sunny climes of Northern Engerlund, I discovered that my calculatory precision was out of whack. For rather than my demise being due on 1 March 2012, it was actually 2 March 2011!
So either I'm one of them reanimated brain munching zombified wanking dead, or I have cheated The Reaper!
He was probably mightily impressed (as most often are) by my mighty barnet (despite it being unkempt and wildly windblown) when we saw him on his Boxing Day holiday in Great Y'ha-Nthlei.
It's nice when your bountiful boufant impresses even Death and thus grants you extended life.
Shame I weren't in me shades, coz he'd've been so bowled over, he'd've granted me immortality!
Imagine that - me blogging bollocks forever! Perpetual perving at pretties...
...and unable to chat them up coz that gnomic git has me voice in a bag,
