‘So, stuff your faces with all the deep-fried shite just like mother used to make – whose mother, you may well ask? Pile the plate high. Overworking, out of work, don’t wanna work? Eat like you’ve earned the God given right. Don’t ask. About the waste. Nor your waistline, Mrs Butter-my-crackers-well, Hohohohahaahahaaa, please y’self. The Waste, beneath our feet, battered prawn to kidney. Everlasting.’
Smarty Pants is the name of the glove puppet my Reverend employed this year to deliver his Christmas sermon.
My Reverend was forced to resign, reasons unspecified. Smarty Pants had a nervous breakdown.
Smarty Pants is the name of the glove puppet my Reverend employed this year to deliver his Christmas sermon.
My Reverend was forced to resign, reasons unspecified. Smarty Pants had a nervous breakdown.
