What ho Sagghers, you old bugger!
Now then Booby. It strikes me that of late you've come in for a fair wedge of what might reasonably be termed stick. I call this a bit thick - in fact, it's one of the thickest things ever struck, don't you know.
But what I find even worse - what is simply the limit, the absolute eel's eyebrows - is the way your turtle chaps have ceased to rush to your defence. Ungrateful I call it, after everything you've done for them. And jolly dispiriting for the chaps here, who like nothing better than a tear up before giving the old market a walloping, just like we used to do to the fags at school.
What's the matter with them? Are they scared? Has a bit of rough handling from the unwashed many-headed of T2W set their ganglions quivering?
Now, you just damn their eyes for 'em, chivvy them along and tell them to jolly well pull their socks up and come here to let us all know that you are distinctly oojah-cum-spiff - that in fact, you are the eel's hips.
Because this silence from the Slackhbladdery camp is putting the dampeners on things. If we are not actually disgruntled, we are very far from gruntled, I can tell you.
Toodle-pip, you old gumboil!