Lots of mentions for good chums and family, comment on politicians' failure, more fun than seriousness and tinctures for all...
Wednesday, 17 January 2018
Retale therapeuticals...
Marvellous ! (Mrs Goose may have seen it elsewhere...)!
14 comments:
rvi
said...
....His daughter replied:
Don't jump off the roof, dad You'll make a hole in the yard. Mother's just planted petunias And the digging and weeding was hard. So, if you must end it all, dad Won't you please give us a break and Just take a walk down the park, dad, And there you can jump in the lake.
Boots. Boots. Boots. Boots. Marching up and down again. Boots. Boots. Boots. Boots. I only want some Neurofen. Left turn for sunburn, past the stuff that helps your piles, Right turn by perfume, then I see they changed the isles! There's optics, biotics, pedicures and manicures, Vitamins and herbals, even stuff for fur-balls. Cascara? Mascara? Neurofen - where have you gone? Shampoo. Body wash. Now I really need to run. Think I'll tell 'em where to stick it or I'll get a parking ticket. Tramp. Tramp. Tramp. Tramp. Feet covered in blisters. Stuff this lark! If I can park I'll get some from me sister's.
Why not just email me at scroblene ((at)) gmail.com, and I'll post it all for you. Keep your name secret if you want, I know you're really Lord Lucan in a hat...
I think Reevers plume de ma tante is a bit of a variance on his medication, Goosey, can you register a bit of your bedside manner for him, then just - er - pop round here for a bit..;0)
rvi - don't worry, help is at hand! I'll just fluff up my plumage then wing over to you to correct your riding position but only if you let me partake some of your foudre. I presume it is VAT-free!
Happily, nothing to do with MY riding position. That idiot postillion fell off the back of the stagecoach when the lightning struck him. Alas poor Yorick, I knew him reasonably well...
... and now I must away to my Club (where I hear there is plenty of crumpet on the menu today).
14 comments:
....His daughter replied:
Don't jump off the roof, dad
You'll make a hole in the yard.
Mother's just planted petunias
And the digging and weeding was hard.
So, if you must end it all, dad
Won't you please give us a break and
Just take a walk down the park, dad,
And there you can jump in the lake.
(c) Drunken Pub Song R Us Inc
Fabulous, Reevers!
Isn't there another version somewhere too...
I hope this works.
But if not, please simply Google Tommy Cooper's version using the first line of the song as your search phrase.
I like it - copied it to other members of the family.
Boots. Boots. Boots. Boots. Marching up and down again.
Boots. Boots. Boots. Boots. I only want some Neurofen.
Left turn for sunburn, past the stuff that helps your piles,
Right turn by perfume, then I see they changed the isles!
There's optics, biotics, pedicures and manicures,
Vitamins and herbals, even stuff for fur-balls.
Cascara? Mascara? Neurofen - where have you gone?
Shampoo. Body wash. Now I really need to run.
Think I'll tell 'em where to stick it or I'll get a parking ticket.
Tramp. Tramp. Tramp. Tramp. Feet covered in blisters.
Stuff this lark! If I can park I'll get some from me sister's.
For list lovers everywhere
this
That @Anon@ above twas I but don't ask me the my nom de plume did not register...
Brilliant! Perhaps your nom-de-plume didn't register because you couldn't find it???
I reckon there's two of you, Reevers!
Why not just email me at scroblene ((at)) gmail.com, and I'll post it all for you. Keep your name secret if you want, I know you're really Lord Lucan in a hat...
I think Reevers plume de ma tante is a bit of a variance on his medication, Goosey, can you register a bit of your bedside manner for him, then just - er - pop round here for a bit..;0)
Sad news
Mon postillion a ete frappe par un coup de foudre.
(Serves him right for stealing my pen!).
AGHH - it has done it again.
I think our host has been fiddling with his equipment....
rvi - don't worry, help is at hand! I'll just fluff up my plumage then wing over to you to correct your riding position but only if you let me partake some of your foudre. I presume it is VAT-free!
Happily, nothing to do with MY riding position. That idiot postillion fell off the back of the stagecoach when the lightning struck him. Alas poor Yorick, I knew him reasonably well...
... and now I must away to my Club (where I hear there is plenty of crumpet on the menu today).
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