Wibble Wobble Nonsense

Firstly, although I’m pathologically opposed to any form of camping, at least this fella has an outstanding view of importance and managed his priorities accordingly.

He does appear to be worryingly fondling his bike tho. Nothing wrong with that of course but something that should be practised away from the narrow minded thinkers that make up most of the planet.

And in my never ending lonely search for esoteric conent to feed our fragile minds – otherwise known as briefly scanning the spam-lite in my inbox, I’m offering up these gems.

Cows have regional accents. Every Yorkshireman knows this. The highlight of a Friday night quaffing session would be a roam on the moors searching for a cheap if noticeably wooly date. Competition was fierce and you had to leave the pub early to ensure “you didn’t get an ugly one“. It went without saying though that however frantic, you didn’t want to stain your welly’s with a sheep of Lancashire extraction. Ugh, that’s just wrong.

Get your organic drugs here. Yes, it’s lick a toad day offering up a natural high and a slightly irritated aquaetic reptile. I mean you’d have to be desperate surely – give me the bostick and the back of the bike sheds. Far less hassle and not requiring a smash and grab at the local pet shop.

Kaballah Fluid promises a safe nuclear future. It’s as we suspected, Madonna is barking mad.

And finally Cyclists dismount because your bladder disease has returned. Some superb Welshness going on here with a translation shocking native speakers and ensuring much rubbing of crotch in traffic queues.

You couldn’t make it up. Which is good, as that’s my job.

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