A rather nasty dose of Pangalactic Fluremic Batsouppangolintoast Virus has laid yours truly up. One had to phlegm and spit one's way to the hangar this morning through a throng of biohazard suits. A putrid working class sawbones demanded that we respect "social distance" however we asserted that the correct distance to be maintained between my honourable self and his filthy prole fellows was at least three levels on the social hierarchy ladder, a decent measure of laissez-faire economic planning and a social policy that would make a Caesar blush. Needless to say, I threatened to shoot the man. It is amazing how this social distancing thing is so easy to effect once one produce's one's personal firearm and changes the setting from "Pink Cheeked Spanking" to "Truly Shagged".
Cough again, sah!
The last time we had a fever this pronounced was after the fabled debagging party for Cholmondley-Sackston we held at that seraglio in New Cairo. Who knew that a monkey was capable of such acts of passion! And with a mango too! We were itching for weeks! Woof!
