"to continue" snuffled Badger

“Ere Badge” expostulated Stoat

“Don’t expostulate, it makes me teeth go squeaky” replied Badger

“No, No, do you remember when we all teased that Baz geezer about his pink suit, and that Birkenhead lady he was in love with, dead funny that was”

“Funny to you, it may have been, but was it Politically Correct?  Pink is a colour associated with, well pink and all its associations, and Birkenhead is also politically sensitive” replied Badger. Testily.

Stoat sank to the ground, put her head in her hand and then picked her teeth.  Oh Goody, some morsels of earthworms were lodged in her molars.  She extracted them and deposited them behind her ear for later.

“Well” she said “Funny old world, innit”

"It is Maslows Hierachy of Needs innit, those on MBs have needs which need to be fulfilled" replied Badger

"Blimey" replied Stoat "The last time me needs were fulfilled was in the back of a Peugeot 309 at Membury Services on the M4 two months ago"

Badger gulped, nervously, "Er, do you remember the registration number?"

In the distance, something stirred.  At first, it was a murmer on the wind but it grew steadily louder and eventally resolved itself into a single word: "Elemetary".  The smell of a pipe drifted across the scene...
'I say', said Badger, 'I do believe it's Mr 'Olmes!'
The ground beneath his feet began to rumble and he and stoat had to grab hold of a (previously unmentioned) tree for support.  Suddenly, from beneath where they had stood not 10 seconds earlier, another dirty, dedraggled figure erupted from the ground.
'Watson?' said Mr. Holmes, 'is it really you?'
'Indeed it is my old friend, I must have got lost tracking down those exploding dogs we met months ago'
'Have a brandy' said Holmes producing a decanter from within his coat.
'Don't mind if I do, old chap' said Watson.

"Less of that mithering", interpolated Stoat. "What do you think this is? the Maudlin Nostalgia Room?

OI!!  You can`t go interpolating round `ere on a Sunday. And before the watershed an` all. Shame on you!

Ho MorticiaaaAAA.  Now that the annoying daughter has returned to California, the kumputer is mine again.   I hope you don't object to this interpolation in a thread of such animal interest.  As Hank says, "All is fur in love and war".  Teeth and claws; teeth and claws.  I must stop this drivelling and go out to feed the Lesbian Raspbery Canes and check on your Racing Camel Esmerelda who has become quite friendly with Pietro the Pimp.  Hm!  That needs looking into.
Staggers towards the Malt bottle clutching empty glass.
Ho!

Shame the music isn't by Zez Comfrey!

S`wave!! HOORAY. YOU`RE BACK! 



If you insist on feeding  Les Girls I recommend that you don your pith helmet and frogskin wellies, in view of the inclement weather. You might  also wish to take Hank along with his customised Mark VII Moby Dick canoe. One can never be too careful.

Lovely to see you back. Mwahh!