Well, it had to be done, didn't it? And since this is both the first and last post, I have won. Thank you all.
No he's not. He's in Childers, which is a town - I think you missed that.
I shall have a look at your images, but if you try to take the prize, I shall put some very nasty remarks on your photos. You have been warned!
You're too late - when the Prize found out the other meaning of childers, he came running back to me! So - I haven't *taken* him; he came of his own accord. What a sensible chap!
Does he know what you do to moffs? Your peers? Hmmm?
Me??? I have the highest admiration for moths. And I only go for walks - short ones - on piers.
Does he know about the thousands of corpses - YESS, I KNOW!! - of moffs that you keep? That you visit and admire? Hmm? Well he does now, because I told him. He thinks you are unspeakable, and he knew there was something odd about the Kool Aid, so he tipped it out when you looked away. He's back home with his Mumsy.
Uh-uh. You've got Arabella! (Though after she finds out about the soup, she might prefer the Kool-Aid.) The real Prize is still with me and he now knows and understands all about these fiendish Ozian machinations to lure him away from his real friend, me.
Does he know you only want him for his money?
I don't know why you stickle. For what? Prizey is here for weekend and before you get shocked Dez: No, we were not at the festival where police has determine the riots
I think I saw you on TV - you WERE at the riots! That prize will grow up damaged by everything you are exposing him to, and by the lies of the moff - not to mention the fancy ladies and heavy drinking of the old geezer.
Oh, that's just not true! The Prize isn't a heavy drinker - he can't have had more than four bacardi and cokes, I'm sure.
You're right, but don't tell it to his new girl friend.
Oops! Er, I'm afraid you're too late...
Everytime the same... It's a very, VERY young thing, I had no chance against dummy and nappies. Life is hard...
You know who I really mean, moff. The little prize is an innocent babe. As Gesine found out. Well, I'll let you babysit him for now, but then he comes home to his mumsy.
And trust macromouth to broadcast a secret to the world. I guess that's how he got his name.
Bloomin' cheek! It was you that misnamed me that. I'm a quiet and demure moth who never speaks out of turn.
Watch the 'old geezer' bit my little petal. Nuffink rong wiv a liddle bi' ov JD.
Poor old prize, no drink, no ladies, no fun. Little b****r will end up a monk. I'm not avin it, it aint rite ! C'mon prizey, let me introduce you to the real world...... and Moffs . I expect your support 'ere moffs, as a good Englishman, British by birth, English by the grace of God ( That we are probably a mixture of Norse, German,French, Roman........... etc. is bye the bye :0)
I'm all for giving the Prize some exposure to English fun, old bean. We're off to Fortnum & Mason's for a spot of afternoon tea and cucumber sandwiches. And he's paying. Top hole!
Sorry, old boys. He'd rather come to the sparkling white sands of the Sunshine Coast with his mumsy.
I apologise if "old geezer" is an insult in your country. In my country it means "fine, upstanding senior chap". Oh, wait! That might be "old bas...ket".
Sorry, ma'am, but us English chaps don't think of going to Foreign Parts and especially The Colonies as being fun. Even some of the remoter parts of the UK are suspect, like St Kilda in a storm, or Wales on a wet Sunday. But wait! Perhaps by the Sunshine Coast you meant Bournemouth? If so, then how absolutely spiffing! One indubitably agrees. Anyone for a stick of rock?
I've never been spiffing. How, exactly, does one spiff? I have no stick of rock - but wait! I have THIS STICK! Wanna sample?
No thanks. It has pain written all the way through it.
Ah, yes - that's in case unwise persons try to purloin it. But I know I can trust you, don't I?
Oh, to the highest degree.
Meanwhile Prize and I will slope off for another spending spree. Yippee!!