Long live Summer!
J-Jack be f-flyin' t-t-troo Wales, subjectin ar innocent souls to his Frost ridden hibernal machinations.
Summer has an ending?
(An icy breeze breathes foul, plumping Lordy's goosey pimples and causing his three new nipples to shatter.)
I heard it was the Aussies! That's what a kookaburra down the pub said. He was a Aussie, so he should know! I felt kinda leery, 'cause he was laughing like he had a roo loose in the paddock, but a Kiwi once told me Aussies are always cackling like Galahs, on account a' how they're always drinking roadies and biting back raw prawns. And everyone knows - Kiwis only ever say the nicest possible things about their neighbours. They're famous for it - truth-saying Aussie-sycophantic screamers, looking for an open door to a big smoke. So's that's it then - proves it, it does... all true! Its gotta be!
How's about it then, all you Brucie Sheilas?
Can we have our summer back?
And don't go waiting til March, likes you hoodwinked us last time. In the excitement of that day, last November, I chucked all my knickers on the Guy Fawkes bonfire, then spent the next 5 months checking the glue on my nipples.