The spaniels of your loquacious irrelevance are once more gambolling across the lawns of all we once held so dear. Every the very cheese biscuits of our souls are a tremble with desire at the thought of your Double Gloucester, with or without the addition of chives and onion.
Yet, we still dream of Cleethorpes and how you once held that deck chair supervisor in the iron grip of your will, as well as tightly by the throat, as you explained to him the error of is assumptions regarding the hire period of the aforesaid article of beach furniture.
However, these are less moist days and the pickling factory of your desire is once again on shorter working time as the pickled onions of our needs wax and wane with our advances years and the concomitant decrease in desire for rampant pork pie misuse.
Still, though, once you have learnt the dark and secret arts of advanced piccalilli application. There is thenceforth no upper limit on the erotic uses of such condiments, allowing all the license that imagination allows, except – obviously in the case of pickled eggs and that now familiar case of Regina Vs Puddleduck.
So, if you wouldn’t mind helping my remove the lid from this jar, we can begin.
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