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Thursday, July 28, 2005
My parrot calls me a pretty boy all day until the 9 o'clock watershed. From then on he tells me to go fuck myself.
Reading about Barney, the 5 year old foul mouthed macaw, I yearn for more innocent times. The days when my grandfather's mynah bird, a perfect Cornish gentleman would say 'I've got three sisters...' then proceed to name my mother and my aunts. He left out my uncle as he was the black sheep of the family.
You have neglected to mention that your mother is a unicorn and your two aunts a wildebeest and a golden eagle. This makes your uncle seem pretty run-of-the-mill by comparison.
4 Comments:
Reading about Barney, the 5 year old foul mouthed macaw, I yearn for more innocent times. The days when my grandfather's mynah bird, a perfect Cornish gentleman would say 'I've got three sisters...' then proceed to name my mother and my aunts. He left out my uncle as he was the black sheep of the family.
You have neglected to mention that your mother is a unicorn and your two aunts a wildebeest and a golden eagle. This makes your uncle seem pretty run-of-the-mill by comparison.
Cornwall, land of myth and legend.
Would you like a cream tea, Betty? Or perhaps a Duchy Original?
I'd rather have a pasty. Heavy on the onions.
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