A number of me devoted followers have expressed their dismay at my failure to disrupt the Epsom Derby last Saturday. Allow me to explain that it was a decision taken after much soul-searching and in no way due to any dereliction of duty on my part.
I felt that as it was the centenary of the act of fatal self-sacrifice by Suffragette Emily Davison, I should withdraw from my annual act of mischief as a mark of respect. Also, "Wasps 'R' Us" have gone out of business. It would seem that such a noble beast, along with the hornet and the gnat, are no longer valued in a society of topsy-turvy values.
Groida has just pointed out that the Cornish bee may well turn out to be the saviour of our endangered planet. I wish he wouldn't waste his money on comics that stuff his confused bonce with such rubbish. I had to incinerate one such rag, entitled "New Scientist" only the other day, for his own good. Okay, also as an act of revenge for his persistent pilfering of me Werthers Originals, but that's neither here nor there.
He's had his unsavoury visage in a book by J. B. Priestly as well. I've warned him before about people with initials. We had all this malarkey with H. G. Wells last year. Now the feeble-minded pillock wants us to form a concert party and perform in an end-of-the-pier show.
A fat lot of good that would be in Cornwall. Looe, St Mawes, Newlyn, St Austell; they all just poke out into the sea a bit and that's that. I'm buggered if I'm going to shell out to build a theatre at the end of one of them, even if it could be used to launch Y Nauci 14 on covert nocturnal wrecking missions ...
Excuse me, I'm just going to get some lunch. I have an idea fermenting in me swede and I need some nourishment.
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