Greetings from Framley… What ho! It was last Sunday that I went exploring in my little motor car – I call her Gertie after Great Grandma Jemima’s dog! Was travelling through the dang countryside with the top down and a nice pipe firmly wedged in my winsome cake-hole when I ended up at the strangest little town you can imagine… Blasted place looked perfectly normal, but on my arrival I gathered from a friendly barkeep that there had been a facist coup in the nearby village of Whoft! Leaving the public house, I saw my old friend Andy Garcia – apparently getting married to one of the local gels. But shortly before I got close enough to talk to him, he was swept away by the overflow from the nearby fluff floods in St Eyot’s. Recognising a clearly disturbed native population, I swiftly slid myself back into Gertie and whirred off into the sunset. I won’t be going back to Framley…
Categories