Just another ordinary day like all the other ordinary days. You wake up, get out of bed, brush yer teeth keef, have breakfast maybe – pick yer jumbled order. Order yer jumbled picks, four candles, oze.
Grunt into the morning. Pick a pair of trousers from the pile on the floor, retrieve a shirt and hey presto. Overnight the offers have come in. Can you come and do a breakfast show for Radio one? Radio twit twoo five arrive alive oh, four more candles. Handles for knives and forks, fork’n knives.
Put them to one side. Today there are other things to do, fish to fry, flags to run up the pole, or the Lithuanian. God save the King, God help everybody that needs it.
Sing isn’t yer thing, although you like a good song. Chanson d’amour. Goodness gracious me. A wandring minstrel I, a thing of shreds and patches, of ballads songs and snatches and dreamy lullaby. Uh?
Nobody said anything had to make cents. Tuppence. Hippy bathday, happy barfday. Moaning. A far as we’re concerned there is nothing of any particular note happnin.
Everybody talkin bout camras, scamras, watch the vid, make the vid, luxuriate in advertising revenues that pay for the next skiing holiday, should you opt in.
stretch that font sur le pont, quel concoction.
Just another day, it’s a perfect day. Act two scene one, the Steep Hill room at the Wig and Mitre. Yah yah waffle waffle, how do you do, duck. Might wear a new tie, before I die. A tie to die for? That’s one thing I have school to thank for. That and amo amass amat, amamus amatis amant.
New York, London, Paris, Lincoln, everybody talk about unbirthdays.
Uchelgaer uwch y weilgi,
Gyr y byd ei cherbydau drosti
Chwithau oll longau’r lli,
Ewch o dan ei chadwyni.
So long and thanks for all the Capn Birds Eye cod bites in breadcrumbs, cook from frozen.
Daddy