(New and unproved)
How would you pluck the moon from the sky? Answers on a postcard, please. (Please – I need to write the next bit and I’m desperate for ideas!!!) Only kidding!!! I got stacks of this tomfoolery all lined up and ready to go!!! Hee hee hee … hee… herh…
(How do you sellotape a ballpoint pen onto a dog’s paw?
I don’t recommend you do this – your dog will probably end up being a better artist or writer than you and every time the two of you are together you’ll suffer terrible feelings of inadequacy and before you know it you’re eating Winalot and he’s in the bed with your wife.
Just me then?)
Well, what a diabolical liberty! Just what sort of a society are these people living in?! You’re still waiting for the dragon, aren’t you?
Berluddy hell! That made me spill my tea! Tch! And a fat peacock has run off with my Tunnocks tea cake…
How many years would you wait to marry your dream princess?
Let that be a lesson to you – never be cheeky to a king, or even just a bit impatient. And if your father is a king – well done, you! Have a moon-inspired gift.
More when my medication wears off!
He’s good at maths, isn’t he.
Feels like the end of a chapter, doesn’t it? Don’t worry – I found a few more pages of this saga up my jumper sleeve. So, for the further adventures of Princess Grumpyface and her doting parents and the unfortunate souls who come into contact with them, tune in again next week. Unless, of course, you’ve got something better to do…
Awwwwwww… Aren’t babies cute when they stop all that wailing and bawling and shrieking until your nerves are frayed at the edges and you feel like your eyeballs are going to explode out of your head and your ears might melt into rivers of blood? I don’t have any kids.
What’s next for the moonstruck babe? Has anybody fed the peacocks lately? Will these drawings improve at all by next week? Does anybody care? All these questions and less may or may not be ignored next time, which may or may not be next week. See you then!
Ha – I made you wait, didn’t I. Sorry about that. In my defence, I have been in an alcohol-induced coma for a fortnight, so… Yeah, I know, I seem to have lost a week somewhere. Hmm, interesting. I wonder if anything happened. I gather it was New Year so Happy that to you.
Anywayyyyyyy … As Bjork would whisper coquettishly – it was oh, so quiet…!
Oooh… makes the whiskers stand up on the back of your neck, don’t it? Some people are never happy, are they?
Tune in next time, when all will be revealed… or will it?
What does it mean? What can have happened to the young princess? Has the latest wet-nurse been knocking back copious amounts of gin? Or has she simply tossed the troublesome infant out of the window? I might tell you next week. Or I might not. Depends what mood I’m in. Exciting! Tune in to find out!
Who’s going to clean up all this blood and vomit? Will the peacocks develop a taste for the Doktor’s legs? Will Digby start shortening his screams to ‘OMG OMG OMG’? All these burning questions plus just WHAT is making the princess so bloody grumpy anyway? – may possibly be touched upon in the next enthralling episode.
Will the Doktor be able to solve the problem for the young princess? Will the King and Queen even listen to him? If so, what else can the birds have for dinner? Is Mad-Axe Pete single? (Steady, girls!) And where does he buy those fantastic bespoke axes? (Whelkie, this is your cue to make a massive chopper joke. You’re welcome.)
All these burning questions and less may (or may not) be answered on the next thrilling instalment, pending on imminent nuclear destruction.