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| Andrew's Motion | |
| By Talisker | ||||||||||
| 13 March 2007 | ||||||||||
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Andy rose today in decent haste. It seems that last night’s curry, had the laureate in a hurry, it Causa Belli, to expelli, muchos waste! These will be no pleasure steamers! Christ! I feel I am in labour! Call and fetch Faber & Faber! in salt water, getting hotter! This may be a juicy reamer! Alas! No zero gravity! In the wee-est smallest hour, heading for the water tower, on Persian rug, dam ned tummy bug, As luck would havity… How now brown coco de macao? Dost thy gizzard, fizz hard, dost it quake? Wake Jeeves! Hurry man! Call Doctor Cake! I feel a flood! ‘tis in the blood! What dost a posh boy now? Only the west wing to traverse, cannot I stem the foul tide? This conflagration I’ve inside? But one more corridor! Ah ha! The privy door! One toilet in a mansion is a curse! What didst thou Keats? Whenst you’d the skeats? What dost thou Lârkin, (note the diarrhoea critical mark in!) when the alimentary clouds doth darken? Attend! In chorus! “watch what one eats!” Oli 13/03/07
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