This month... Slims says...

Smorn... or as they say in Wales, "Show us yer conkers"... Both greetings in their own right, yet both as warm as a pair of mittens on a goats arse clinkers.

The reason for rambling is that I want to tell you a story about Steve... yes, Steve 'Chief' Sawyers of fame...

Now Steve has always been a happy sod. He would smile at anyone that passed him, almost making him look a twit of the highest degree, yet a pleasant fella nevertheless. But last week! Last week!!!

I was talking my thrice daily trip to the chip-shop, when a noticed a long haired chap bobbing into a sweet-shop.

"Steve", I yelled. "Oy, Chief!"

It was obvious his mind was on other things, so I crossed the road & decided to wait for him in hiding, to see if his recently purchased wares consisted of a rag-mag and a box of tissues.

Within moments the hairy hunk stormed out of the sweet-shop with nothing more than a stern facial expression. Without a seconds thought, I jumped out on the sideburn wearing rocker and snap him in his complete state of anger.

"Damn and blast", Grrrr'd Steve. "They refused to sell me a sherbet dip as they claim I look like the type of bloke that would shove it up ones own anus, that would cause my bottom gravy to react with the sherbet powder, potentially blowing up half of Bristol"

After I refused to buy a Herbert Dip on Steve's behalf, he sped off in a flurry of moans and groans.

At first I though Steve was angry with my response to buy the stated confectionary, although when I glanced at Steve walking into the distance, all became clear....

.... He was actually moaning and groaning in pleasure whilst trying to place a Toblerone up his "Tradesman's Entrance"...

Sweet!

Steve Sawyers... Anger before Swiss Chocolate relief

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