Alas, the Prince of Stories gummed up me ocular orbits with a tad to much Sahara carpeting, and as a result...
Oversleepage
No time to wash the stagnant green swamp muck of rapids and flumes out me luscious locks, time to - oh, missed bus by 5 mins. Oh well, just sort a couple of things out afore I leave.... Dagnammit, the next bus was 5min early!
Pootle on down to omnibusial port of stoppage... yep, it's late.
So, as we ride to the city, I recall with fondness the offerance of matrimonal partners for photographical memories of felt up mammaries in place of Madame Boobage, and indignation of replicative ballsed up imagery, where substitute coffins could have been replaced with foliage for the draping over thereof with siblings stuffed in the bin for good measure.
Good, good thymes!
But now I's in the SpecSavers, surrounded by sexy speccy sirens! Ah, thank you, ye monster-cocked chewer of spectacles, for placing me in a bower of beauties who service me for free!
But who cares for such trifles, for lunchtime brings a pair of right trouser-arousers!
And then it's Team Reward night, and free beer... in a pub that lacks for the presence of Pretties, where talk turns to Image Copies, preposterous hats, and that The Xym has angled his monitor so he can see the to and fro of Pretties (especially the one with the white hair and dark eyeliner <3)
As if I would position my person to perve at pretties when engaging in office work!
