Firstly I wish to apologise unreservedly to any punters at the Krazy Kernow tearooms who witnessed the disgraceful outburst of ire by Auntie Pamela at the weekend. We have no idea how she managed to obtain a taser but it has been confiscated. She claims she was intending to "do the Mormons" with it, and thus clearly thinks I was born yesterday. Even her glassy-eyed cavalier of a nephew was somewhat taken aback.
What with all the recent mallarkey, we have not been able to spread our mischievous tentacles as widely and to as large an audience as desired. I am bitterly disappointed that the Ambrose Posse couldn't put the wind up kilts at the Edinburgh Tattoo this year. Uncle Lucas has a wicked cartoon of a Lovecraftian abomination inscribed at the base of his sting, but that really isn't the same, is it? He also does an hysterical impersonation of Finlay Currie in "Ben-Hur". I seem to have wandered from the point somewhat.
As for all that supernatural carry-on last week, I knew it was all a conspiracy, of course; Mordecai in cahoots with that wretched knave Groida, fabricating all manner of marvels. The licorice "ectoplasm" under the lavvy door was quite ingenious but after being up to my knees in dolly mixture, jelly babies and Olde English Spangles the jape was starting to wear a little thin.
When I found the harmonium buried under a gargantuan pyramid of Ferraro Rocher, I decided enough was enough and confronted Bro. He proceeded to conjure up a vast yule log, with which I belted him in the thorax (after licking the caster sugar dusting, naturally) and told him to stop showing off.
Now perhaps we can get on with some real work, like excavating beneath the sea bed for our palace of fun. Mr Prendergast is fuelled up and ready to start tunnelling. Let's hope he doesn't go haywire, eh? That would be really awful ...
Tuesday, August 20, 2013
Friday, August 16, 2013
Mystic Mordecai
Marvellous, isn't it? After a fortnight subjecting myself to the indignity of wearing a tzigane headscarf and earrings in order to relieve tourists of their readies, me bro has decided to muscle in on the scam.
It just isn't right. The windiest bugger in Team Ambrose when it comes to anything supernatural now claims he was visited in a dream by a bunch of incandescent wraiths called the "Secret Chefs", who have granted him a "psychic gift voucher" (valid until August Bank Holiday Monday, ha!), which permits him a dozen goes at spooky stunts as long as they involve foodstuffs.
What a carton of tosh! He's just jealous of my alter ego "Gypsy Ambrose Li" and wants to destabilise the whole setup. Okay, I'll challenge him to test his new powers by, say, replenishing my stock of fruit cocktail chews and pear drops with a wave of his hanky, or turning Groida into an arthropod version of Bertie Bassett. Mark my words, I'll have the cheeky sod wailing "I didn't mean it" before sundown.
Talking of the holiday weekend to come, readers may wish to take advantage of a special offer at the Krazy Kernow Tearooms. Punters will be able to ask for a second pot of tea and an extra plate of scones at half price (clotted cream and jam negotiable). Auntie Pamela may choose to ignore you or use bad language, but she has been given clear instructions not to strike out with her extendable baton.
Bloody hell, Mordecai has begun to levitate and his wings aren't whirring. He can cut that out for a start! Sorry, o public, but I am required to attend to a delicate situation once again. I'll try to bring him down with a thick rope.
It just isn't right. The windiest bugger in Team Ambrose when it comes to anything supernatural now claims he was visited in a dream by a bunch of incandescent wraiths called the "Secret Chefs", who have granted him a "psychic gift voucher" (valid until August Bank Holiday Monday, ha!), which permits him a dozen goes at spooky stunts as long as they involve foodstuffs.
What a carton of tosh! He's just jealous of my alter ego "Gypsy Ambrose Li" and wants to destabilise the whole setup. Okay, I'll challenge him to test his new powers by, say, replenishing my stock of fruit cocktail chews and pear drops with a wave of his hanky, or turning Groida into an arthropod version of Bertie Bassett. Mark my words, I'll have the cheeky sod wailing "I didn't mean it" before sundown.
Talking of the holiday weekend to come, readers may wish to take advantage of a special offer at the Krazy Kernow Tearooms. Punters will be able to ask for a second pot of tea and an extra plate of scones at half price (clotted cream and jam negotiable). Auntie Pamela may choose to ignore you or use bad language, but she has been given clear instructions not to strike out with her extendable baton.
Bloody hell, Mordecai has begun to levitate and his wings aren't whirring. He can cut that out for a start! Sorry, o public, but I am required to attend to a delicate situation once again. I'll try to bring him down with a thick rope.
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