Sentence The Twohundredandninetysecond
“For a learned man, a gentleman and a scholar, enthusiastically vociferous exponent of the obsidional war-craft of the Greeks, with their Wooden Horse; the Phoenecians, with their Wooden Hat; the Thracians, with their Wooden Leg; and of course the Romans who devised a rather nifty Wooden Bootleg for the surreptitious transportation of certain extremely aggressive and highly deadly black tarantula spiders into the besieged city of Alexandria, yet for all that,” sniggered Sir Parlane
MacFarlane to his Man, Dominic Doubleday, “for all that, the Reverend Father Abbot, Pandelion Gillyfeather didn't half make a proper cock-up – or should that be 'cock-down' of shagging your
Marie, oh, you have to laugh,” he chortled, tears streaming down his face, “it's the funniest non-event I've seen this year, don't you agree, Dom?” and Doubleday replied, “ah jist hope aw his jerkin an pokin disnae cause hairm tae the bairn, Maister,” but Sir Parlane clapped him on the shoulder, saying: “she's a fine heifer and she'll calf no problem, though I'm grateful for your concern, Dom; look, there's wee Rosie free, go and stick yourself up her, that'll cheer you up,” and Dominic beckoned wee Rosie and took her to a quiet corner for some fun, to wipe away the memory of his own 'cock-down' with his wife on that one, miserable, attempt to consummate their marriage and his acceptance that, at 18 years of age, Marie was 'over the hill' so far as he was concerned and he would remain contented to satisfy his needs with the plentiful supply of sweet, fresh lassies the City had to offer, like Rosie
and Goldilocks, certainly much more to his liking, and so give his Master free reign with Marie, already beginning to show the outward signs of her pregnancy.
“For a learned man, a gentleman and a scholar, enthusiastically vociferous exponent of the obsidional war-craft of the Greeks, with their Wooden Horse; the Phoenecians, with their Wooden Hat; the Thracians, with their Wooden Leg; and of course the Romans who devised a rather nifty Wooden Bootleg for the surreptitious transportation of certain extremely aggressive and highly deadly black tarantula spiders into the besieged city of Alexandria, yet for all that,” sniggered Sir Parlane
MacFarlane to his Man, Dominic Doubleday, “for all that, the Reverend Father Abbot, Pandelion Gillyfeather didn't half make a proper cock-up – or should that be 'cock-down' of shagging your Marie, oh, you have to laugh,” he chortled, tears streaming down his face, “it's the funniest non-event I've seen this year, don't you agree, Dom?” and Doubleday replied, “ah jist hope aw his jerkin an pokin disnae cause hairm tae the bairn, Maister,” but Sir Parlane clapped him on the shoulder, saying: “she's a fine heifer and she'll calf no problem, though I'm grateful for your concern, Dom; look, there's wee Rosie free, go and stick yourself up her, that'll cheer you up,” and Dominic beckoned wee Rosie and took her to a quiet corner for some fun, to wipe away the memory of his own 'cock-down' with his wife on that one, miserable, attempt to consummate their marriage and his acceptance that, at 18 years of age, Marie was 'over the hill' so far as he was concerned and he would remain contented to satisfy his needs with the plentiful supply of sweet, fresh lassies the City had to offer, like Rosie and Goldilocks, certainly much more to his liking, and so give his Master free reign with Marie, already beginning to show the outward signs of her pregnancy.
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