Any poor individual that missed part one go here,

The Pigs Arms gets Raided

[ HOO here. Now, the situation will return to normal shortly, so in the mean time lets have a larf.]

“I’ll telling you lot once and for all, keep quiet and ewes is all under arrest for terriblism. Father O’Way, Foodge, commie crap and really bad crap at that, bloody terrible” affirms DCI Copper Wire and he tries to engage inside his own broadband width. Note to self he thinks, double time Sunday, what a trap and the neo-cons want to dump it.

“Now Sargent Sulfate here will have to take statements from everyone here tonight,  meaning we will run past midnight and into over time.”

Roars from the Federal Pleece.

***

“Hey, Gordon, what do you want to do?” asks Angler On.

“Nothing yet Ace. It’s like this, I own all the money on Earth and I can always settle a score by making DCI dickhead bankrupt. Let the pleece have their moment in the sun as it will only get worse for them from here. Political tools, hmm” replies Gordon.

“Shut up ewes. I’ve got some really good acetic acid here, battered flathead and chunky chips, you know, the off your face stuff. Let’s catch the Flyer to Newcastle?” injects Gib W.

“Yeah, lagers…” say the boys and are off.

***

[Interval music]

I am woman, hear me roar
In numbers too big to ignore
And I know two much to go back and pi squared
‘Cause I’ve herd it all before
And I’ve been out there on the moor
No one’s ever going to make me go down again

Whoa, yes, I am wise
But it’s wisdom born of pain
Yes, I’ve paid the price
But look how much I ingrained

If I have to I can do anything [if you have to?]
I am strong (strong)
I am invincible (invincible)
I am woman

You can bend but never break me
‘Cause it only serves to make me
More determined to achieve my final goal
And I’ll come back even stronger
Not a novice any longer
‘Cause you’ve deepened the conviction in my soul

Whoa, yes, I am wise
But it’s wisdom born of pain
Yes, I’ve paid the price
But look how much I gained

If I have to I can do anything
I am strong (strong)
I am invincible (invincible)
I am woman

[Round of applause as feminism strikes back]

Now, here at the Pigs Arms we want you to rush out and buy some of these from our in house shop. Yes, we have secretly brainwashed you throughout the show so far to behave as free thinking individuals, yes I know, scary isn’t it, imagine having to think for yourself, wouldn’t want that now would we.

 

 

 

 

 

Don’t you just love it folks. Mass produced gulg, just for you.

***

Nurse Barbara and Sister Yvonne  having given statements about how terrible is a nasty word, oh and they promise on their collective magnificent breasts that they

will never be terrible ever again , no, never, hmm, guffaw,guffaw, fair dinkum.

“Do you see that Sargent’s arse Barbara?” asks Sister Yvonne.

“Is the Pope Catholic!!” replies Barbara.

Roars of laughter from the crew.

***

“O’Hoo, last episode you said you liked blue, cream and honey, did you mean that?” asks Fern.

“Yes, those colors were important to me in a previous life” replies O’Hoo.

“O’Hoo?” says Fern “Will you marry me?”

“Most certainly Fern but can I check with the missus first?”

 

 

***

“My dick hurts” says Foodge after making a big mistake by not ensuring that a true biological genital juxtaposition is necessary after a trip to

the Men’s to get said member sufficiently away from the zipper in question.

“Too much information bozo” warns Merv.

 

 

***

So my writing is so terrible it qualifies as a breach of Section 70 from the Act. Pretty impressive really.

When I discovered baked bean theory I knew that I was at the top of my game. Sandy O’Way, one day you will be a legend. The first Inner Cyberian to charged

under Section 70.

What, baked bean theory?

How long have you got.

In a nutshell baked bean theory is that the average number of beans in a 440 gram can of baked beans in tomato sauce equals the average number of runs scored in one day cricket games in the Milky Way. Brilliant stuff, wish I’d thought of it.

***

***

DCI Wire weeps, unable to report to his political masters he returns home, tail between his legs, exactly where the whole matter should have rested. Shame on you Inner Cyberian Federal Pleece, you have sold out to a group that trusted you, the man in the street, reap now what you sow.