I’ve started up a lazy gentleman’s outfitters. It’s called Suit Yourself.
The heating’s on the blink at my masturbation stronghold. On the plus side it’s cheap. That’s cold cum fort.
I once worked as a grave digger for a milliner who really hated me. During a funeral for a stetson I stopped digging and said “look I really think we should clear the air, let bygones be bygones….”. She shouted “just bury the hat, shit”. I said “Exactly!”
Our lawn is really long and an obese Satan got stuck in our cat flap. “What do you want to do?” my partner asked. I hate gardening and like to deal with unusual mishaps, so I just shrugged and said “butter the devil. You mow”.
My best mate’s a shell. He refused to fight in the second world war but also came up with a lot of really good ideas for stopping wars altogether. That’s what I like about Conch, he ain’t just ‘objector’.
Bloke asked me if I wanted to join a group who drink tepid Darjeeling in a room full of calculators. I said “Is that ok?”, he said “yeah, safe tea in numbers”.
A Welsh General threatened me this morning. I said, “oh yeah, Euan Hughes’ army”.
Someone asked me the other day, “what did you use to transport the money to pay off that toupe debt to Dame Mirran?”. I said “Wig owing to Helen? A hand cart.”
I was queuing behind a sausage in Costa the other day. He went for a grande cappucino. When it comes to coffee I guess the weiner takes it tall.