'Ripe and juicy, only twopence a barrel, come and get yer lovely cello transducers here!' yelled Winky, without a hint of the self-consciousness normally associated with having a face like a shovel.
'If we all move forward by a single step,' announced Nancy Bickersnake, 'we'll all get that slightly itchy compulsion to hide in the shed and whimper about the benefits of a good pension, some stilts, a bucketful of agitated hornets and finally, I find it good practice to marinate the whole thing with a thin glaze of Henry Vlll's personal wax.'
Suddenly, and without warning, this sentence stoppe
No comments:
Post a Comment