Grimbeau
Scroodles
February 3, 2013
One for my Baby, and one for the Toad
‘Wassup, Cecille? Have you got a problem with Nigel’
‘He’s such a slimeball, Don.’
‘He’s a natterjack, honey. That’s just the way it is!’
‘ And he’s so toady’
‘That’s because he is a toad.’
‘ You’re kidding. Toads are sexier.’
January 31, 2013
…join the army if you fail.
Pompeach Med crunched the Iceberg with zest and picked the morsels of snow cameleopard with a spear. The day finished perfect with a bungy jump down the Whopper crevasse. There is something about flying krill that you cannot put your finger on.
January 26, 2013
A Knight Inn
forty thousand headmen rummage in the tummy. Yes guys, grub’s up! Sense of humour vacation; Mastermind your manners. Cormorant sandwich craft shop at Vivid Slobs. The How! The hell! Into the nitedark thunk and footfall of footpads and poops: planning permission grunted. Posit over that there, plummy and pipe cleanerly: Puffin on a cheroot. Gazeful of the Titian egg and soubriquet sandals. Beater Stuyvesant goes up in smoke; clam driver dorwning; lampshed and Romanov: reel purty Faberge muffin. Clop!
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Grimbeau 