Situations Vacant

[Runaway]

Me and my bi­g mouth.

[Sir William]

[Runaway]

Lost your monocle once more?

[Sir William]

I've upgraded to a bicycle now.

[Runaway]

Roller broken down once more then ...

[Sir William]

[Runaway]

She ma­de me say it...


She ma­kes me do l­ots of things. It's terrible.

[Sir William]

As long as no sexual activities are demanded you should be alright.

[Runaway]

Ah. Erm . . .

[Sir William]

[Runaway]

Someone has to do it.

[Sir William]

I've already done it.

[Runaway]

Not with me.

(She just said).

[Sir William]

A vacancy has arisen for a Mad Shed Parson person.

This parson person will conduct our Mad Shed 4-times-a-day prayers and essential worshipping sessions.

These will be essential for the righteous enlightenment and spiritual enrichment of our members.

The position comes with free praising garments and knee pads.

[Runaway]

What stunt are you now trying to pull?

Whatever it is, I'd like to apply for the position of Lord High Amalgamated Senior Adviser to Royalty and Others of Note (LHASARON).

Do I gett*en a free robe with purple trimmings?

[Sir William]

Are you applying for the Parson Person post?

[Runaway]

Can you not read, man?

I'm applying for the for the position of Lord High Amalgamated Senior Adviser to Royalty and Others of Note (LHASARON).

Is that so difficult to understand? For a man of such alleged breeding and alleged intelligence, I discover your response rather perplexing...

[Sir William]

I'm applying for the for the position

Can you not read, man?

[Runaway]

I apologise for my unforgivable (or unforgiveable) error, caused by copy and paste.

I shall immediately knee myself in the groin, and will manufacture amends by providing this wonderful Australian picture:

(Bring a 4WD for sure otherwise you WILL die...)

[Sir William]

Unsatisfactory.

[Runaway]

In what wa­y?

Ok, the roads are not roads they are just dirt tracks.
The heat is immense.
There is no water available.
You could easily die.
And the sundry animals in that area just want to kill you anyway.

But apart from that, what's unsatisfactory about it?

[Sir William]

Apart from that - Nothing.

[Runaway]

I was correct then.

[Sir William]

[Runaway]

Fear not, O goatish pox-marked scullion!
The time for progression is nigh, and the barbarous guts-griping vassals shall live to tell the tale of when jarring rude-growing mammets ruled the earth with impunity!