...and there's me with the gravy muffler, no chance of getting Max Clifford to be my agent now, friends with the rugby team or not.... (I made that bit up)
No bookbinder, it was kanga - in the dark a sitting-up kanga looks a lot like his ludship taking aim, I can understand the mistake. George is OK though miss meg, he boxed his way out of it and he's just partaking of a tailcock, I am not sure if that is OK for a 'roo..
Er - well, it's all been - er - lovely. Yes, lovely. But I really ought to be getting along. Mother will be worried. Erm - is this the way out? Thank you, so much. Another time, perhaps? I hope you catch him. 'Night all.
Totally confused, has his lordship been restrained, are the guns back in the cabinet, where is mamya when I need my meds, met some nice newcomers here tonight but I fear the my be that rabble from the bewildered lot incognito. What do we do with George?
Milady and all, I have to bid farewell so I hope I don't miss too much - the white van is at the door and they won't wait much longer for me. Please say goodbye to the All Blacks for me, I am sorry I missed their talk - perhaps next time. I will try to remember my knitting bag for next week (with a bit of luck I can slip a salami into it for our supper). Tata!