I hate this stinkin' time o' year! Season o' mellow mists and swollen bosoms my arse! Buggerin' midges everywhere, more like!
One of 'em went pot holing up me snotter when I was waterin' me petunias an' all! I 'adn't choked s' much since Prince Edward asked me to wash 'is conkers for 'im!
I 'ad to shove the 'osepipe down me oesophagus t' flush the bastard out. It was havin' a picnic with three bumble bees on me spleen, randy, short-lived little sod. Unfortunately the dog 'ad got wedged in the 'osepipe after it 'ad bin washin' its balls in the sink and 'ad fallen in. So the nozzle swelled up an' ruptured me larynx sommet chronic.
As it turned out it was rather serendipitous as a nest o' starlings 'ad built a small boarding house in me Adam's apple. They'd bin usin' it for all-night beetle drives an' sex-crazed stag parties. Naturally the violent eruption of the 'osepipe spewed 'em all out onto me hostas where I swiftly dealt them a fatal blow with me picklin' mallet.
Editor's note: Arthur Marrow is now recovering in hospital following a near fatal overdose of magic mushrooms caused by a combination of myopia and tight-fisted stealing from the neighbour's potting shed.
