|
| What ho! My apologies for the absenteeism, ladies and gents, but it seems I fell ill with a case of the Large Lung for quite some time.
Mind you, how was a chap to know that one incredible night with the world renowned cabaret singer Alexy Laveau would lead to twelve months bed rest where I could only pass the time polishing my favorite smoking pipe and making apologies to a picture of dear ol' ma?
Ol' Trevor is back on top and ready to visit the pubs for tales and ales forthright! Cheerio!
| | |
| Huntertx's last comment reminded me of the time I once met a preposition beneath a bridge. I spared no expense in taking her away from her life of depravity and debauchery. I sent her through the finest boarding schools and taught her to be a sophisticate. She then stabbed me and stole my pocketwatch.
Hold on, right there!
My tragic flaw, good reader, is that I'm always mixing up words. That should read: prostitute.
| | |
| Interstellar Spaceflight? Why, I do say! Count me in!
Though a number of questions I do ponder...
- Does a fine pub wait for us somewhere in the Plaiedes?
- Given a spot of brandy and a loss of decorum, a cad might give into
desire and sleep with alien women of the night. Are we to be breeded
out?
- Will we finally be able to create a synthetic tweed resistant to tobacco stains?
- Will I find....true love?
- Will I ever see Dorian again?! Oh, Dorian! LIVING ON ANOTHER PLANET ISN'T WORTH IT WITHOUT YOU!! DORIAN!
| | |
| Seems I have a touch of Tailor's Dummy. The last time I went to
the tailor, I had to request that he leave the room while I compose
myself. I go into a state of rigor mortis out of sheer
embarassment at the close proximity of another man. Granted, his
job becomes much easier.
Perhaps I should put off buying my seventh tweed suit for the time being.
| | |
| Right-o!
As a lad, my father provided endless inspiration, enlightening me to
the proper ways of doffing and the growing of a fine mustache.
Imagine my horror to awaken one December eve fifteen years past to find
burglars had burgled my father's fine handlebar that very night!
Revenge shall be mine, quite right!
| | |
|
