Wothcher, Laydees of the Scrubbery (woops, intentional misspelling unintended) It would seem that Sarumite has yet to be released from the Rabbie Burns Unit of East Grinstead hospital after their last barbecue.
Oh such are the perils of playing with you laydees of the night, especially those crouching round a cauldron late on a Friday night stirring your strange and probably illegal potions over the bone-fires of your previous male partners.
I shall stay no longer less you tempt me with your lingerie to linger longer and thus, as Sarumite's substitute, become this week's offering to the strange deities you worship as you sip, sup and gulp the weird brews and deities that you concoct, imbibe and worship.
Lead on, MacDuff, KM links await with the dawn, time to sleep, perchance to dream
Oh, God, not another nightmare of invasive rhododendrons.....