Sunday 8 November 2009

A 'bonzer' day in Llanfihangel-y-Creuddun

Dr. Laurie Fraser of Buggermaroo University is 70% water yet rarely freezes, and is married to a 30% metal wife, who rarely rusts. Surely matchsticks are made in heaven. Dr. Fraser is an expert in critical thinking, philosophical hermeneutics, propositional epistemology, some other things off Wikipedia, and drinking. But today he's here with his linguistical hat on, dangling rosetta corks of wisdom that swat away the flies of translatory ignorance with every shake of his once magnificently maned brain-case.

REJ:- Dr. Fraser, croeso i Llanfihangel-y-Creuddun, and I believe Sioned has a little surprise for you in the shape of a Fosters Australian lager can of embeerment. SIONED! do the honours love!

Sioned:- MAE'N YN Y FFRIJ! THERE'S A HANDLE ON THE DOOR, PULL TOWARDS -

REJ:- A-hahaha! Bit of a domestic goings on. It looks like I might have to get it -

DR.F:- Strewth Richard! I'll save you the trouble. I'd have to have a throat as dry as a dead dingo's donger to drink that piss.

REJ:- er - I'll take that as a 'dim diolch' -

DR.F:- No wuckers mate! Reckon your nan could skull a slab of that with no danger of a liquid laugh. Love yer jumbucks by the way, some real beauts.

REJ:- Indeed. um. er -

DR.F:- cssssssssssstch! I brought my own amber fluid - just incase - you having one? I don't like drinking with the flies.

REJ:- The flies yes. er - cssssssssstch! - I see you've opened it...er did Sioned go out?

DR.F:- Strewth! You're under the thumb mate! That stands out like the dog's balls.

REJ:- The dog's balls yes -

DR.F:- Listen Richard! You've got to have a few kangaroos loose in the top paddock to let a Sheila keep you from the grog - fancy a durry?

REJ:- er...Sioned says -

DR.F:- Pig's arse! I'll open a window. How about that? Cunning as a dunny rat, me. FIGJAM! mate, FIGJAM!

REJ:- er yes fig - er yes indeed. Now Dr. Fraser -

DR.F:- Call me Laurie mate! cssssssssstch! skull that, catch this ya two pot screamer! Cab sav next...Catch!

REJ:- Howzat!

DR.F:- OUT! You little ripper!

REJ:- Now Dr. Fraser Laurie, there was something you were here to talk about -

DR.F:- There was? Strewth Richard, you've got me stonkered there -

REJ:- I'm sure there was.....was it linguistics?

DR.F:- Fair suck of the sav! You duxed it mate! It was the Catholic Church!

REJ:- The Cath -

DR.F:- Richard, *-pop!-* I'm glad you reminded me - gluglugluglug - the Catholic bastard Church! As useful as tits on a bull! Worse! That Ratzi's as mean as cat's piss! grinning like a shot fox while his priests are buggering choirboys flat out like a lizard drinking -

REJ:- er I'm not sure exactly what you mean -

DR.F:- Don't come the raw prawn with me Richard! That Church should be cactus!

REJ:- Prickly? adapted to arid conditions? -

DR.F:- *-pop-* Catch! -

REJ:- The finger's raised!.....he walks!...

DR.F:- The Gabba's gone wild! -

REJ:- Ooooh let's do Geoffrey Boycott! -

DR.F:- Good line and length...pooer footwork, pooer! -

REJ:- Pressure?! That's not pressure! Having a Messerschmitt up your backside, now that's pressure! - these boys have a job to do and they're not doing it - as I once said to Curtley Ambrose -

DR.F:- And then Goochie gave his wicket away cheaply for 333...

REJ:- Eee wouldn't get in the starting line at Yorkshire -

DR.F:- That Botham never did what I told him...

REJ:- gluglugluglug - aaaaaaaah! - where were we?

DR.F:- That bastard Ratzi! Acting like he hasn't got a brass razoo while half the world starves and he's got his finger in the pokies!

Sioned:- Richard! RICHARD EMMANUEL JONES! Are you drinking?! You'd better not be drinking in there! -

REJ:- Shit! We're sunk! Do some linguistics! Quick! hide!

DR.F:- Ok - you behind the sofa, me behind the curtains -

REJ:- Strewth Fraser! You stand out like a shag on a rock mate! The Sheila'll be spewin'like a Taswegian on turps! If she finds out I've got a gutful of piss I won't see her white pointers for a month! - etc etc

1 comment:

  1. I'll have ya for libel, Jones, ya potato-headed Welsh git! Pass me another tinny, T.P., while I write a stern letter to the Aberystwyth Chronicle.

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