Sa more, o clot... im espeshally pleezed by this pruf of culchur in one
so yung, as any fule can kwote Shakespeare or science fikshun.
Yores
Fotherington Thomas
Dominic Fox wrote:
>But wait! who is this bursting thruogh the gates of the grate hall,
>rending noble brave ect wariors left and right with terible swooshes
>of his mitey clores? It is the monster GRENDLE chiz aka Sigismund the
>mad maths master who hav burst his chains at the ful moons lite and is
>even now roming abrord in serch of reffreshment hem hem. Who can face
>this feresome enemy? Who hav the honner, the courage, the fiting
>spirit, the mitey mussles of ripling steel (cheers, shouts of manly
>encouragement, also cries of rubbish, get on with it clot ect) to
>stand befor the rampaging feind and uterly tuough him up?
> "Peason," sa I, who am not called the gorilla of 3B for nothing.
>"Fetch me the skool crickit ball and also yore revolting rugby sock
>that hav not been washed since the start of term. For the hour is upon
>us when perchance the nesessessery hero may arise, it is a far far
>beter thing I do than I have ever done ect"
> Peason turn very pale and scutle off, for he also hav seen that
>film about who is the pater of this nick hem hem, and kno better than
>to argue with such a renowned buly as yors truly, espeshally in a
>moment of crisis my dere...
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