"Have you ever been to Wales, Baldrick?" "No, but I've often thought I'd like to." "Well don't, it's a ghastly place. Huge gangs of tough sinewy men roam the valleys terrifying people with their close harmony singing. You need half a pint of phlegm in your throat just to pronounce the placenames. Never ask for directions in Wales, Baldrick. Youll be washing spit out of your hair for a fortnight."
My father wanted me to be an arson baby. My mother wanted me to be a hammond organist. I wanted to be a showjumper.
Well, who am I? Master of the monosyllabic boredom.
3 comments:
I'm sure you can persuade him otherwise. For instance, there's always Lower Manhattan...
Which Wales? Fluke, hump-backed, sperm ...
Perhaps you need to tell him about this:
"Have you ever been to Wales, Baldrick?"
"No, but I've often thought I'd like to."
"Well don't, it's a ghastly place. Huge gangs of tough sinewy men roam the valleys terrifying people with their close harmony singing. You need half a pint of phlegm in your throat just to pronounce the
placenames. Never ask for directions in Wales, Baldrick. Youll be washing spit out of your hair for a fortnight."
- Edmund Blackadder and his peasant Baldrick
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