There’s a restaurant here in Edinburgh. I forget the name but it’s rather small yet very reputable indeed. They serve a traditional sort of haggis and it’s served by a man in full Highland dress who places it on the table, recites a poem and then produces a knife to slice the haggis open. A bagpipe smells like his beard. It’s very bushy.
If we rub our bow ties together will a baby bow tie be born?
It might take a little more than mere rubbing
But yes, the most beautiful bow tie babby will no doubt be formed. Perfectly creased. Prominent. Dazzling to behold. However, we really should just rub together all our bodily bits and bobs as well as tasteful accessories.
There was a stupendous organ. Vast. I’m afraid to say that the choir made me giggle a bit. The old man with the sceptre, however, was a sight to behold. As was the faculty member wearing fine colourful robes along with sunglasses on his head. And I think he had a cane.
I was going to take all the flags off my car but in my misery I couldn’t see straight so in the end I just set fire to my car and pushed it down a hill. Then I lay on the floor weeping at the terrible injustice meted out against our brave lads in South Africa. Tomorrow I will mail a bag of excrement to Fabio Crapello.