Thursday, 11 January 2018

TOM - What is that smell? Gas?

DICK - He who smelt it, delt it!

TOM - I ain’t playing cards, not now, not with that stink hovering. I can’t breathe.

DICK - No Tom, my little flatuent toon, it means you’re a little fart monster.

TOM - But I didn’t.

DICK - Well you must ‘ave. The saying isn’t just a saying, it’s the law. You wouldn’t want to go to prison and get raped by Mr Big in the shower over a botto burp.

TOM - But nothing came out of my bottom.

DICK - You may think that but it’s because the potency is so great it acted as an anesthesia for yer bottom hole so that you couldn’t feel nothing.

TOM - Or …

DICK - Or what?

TOM - You dunnit.

DICK - Tom, I think it’s time you said hello to my little frying pan.

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