Freewheelin’

‘Juss a’praxin what’ya preach, Milord & Conveyor.’ Rider with cosy torpor said.
‘I’ll thrash you within an inch of your life, you varmint’ said Captain Pringle, the sky was the limit and he was vexed real big bollocks time.
‘Which side of zero lies your inch?’ said Montel.
‘This side, minion.’
Pringle exploded with rage & biscuits that peppered the crevices, the tiny nooks and crannies of the doomed Good Ship Lollipop. Six Bells clunked, dulled by Pringle’s dripping spleen.
‘He was warned’ said the Count mopping the mess, ‘too much houmous is bad for you.’
Montel kept quiet and remembered Oxford Town.

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