James Ashford > Donovan Mike: The world will know freedom when the cattle run free.
Donovan Mike > James Ashford: I hope you wore protection; That's quite a kettle you've got there.
James Ashford > Donovan Mike: The two who were shirtless put their hands up. Ken and Ralph nodded their heads solemnly and climbed into the intestine. The mission was only just beginning.
Donovan Mike > James Ashford: And now, at least, I know not to offer milk the next time the pirate knocks. The clocks will fix themselves.
James Ashford > Donovan Mike: He knew now there was only one thing left to do. He closed his eyes and leaped into the bowl of custard. That was the last thing he remembered until the balderdash found him
Donovan Mike > James Ashford: As the Russians rounded the corner, guns blaring and lunchboxes clenched white-knuckled in sweaty palms, Mabel wished harder than ever that she had never given birth to that waffle-iron.
James Ashford > Donovan Mike: He heard it again. He was sure someone was following him. Then, from the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of it. The stable had taken chase at the last corner, and it was gaining by the second. Howard had less than a second to react. He hurled himself into a passing pomegranate and held his breath.
Donovan Mike > James Ashford: It was towards the end of the meal when I realised the table was being ironic. I took my custard and promptly left.
James Ashford > Donovan Mike: He nodded curtly at the waiter, who immediately dropped his trousers and threw himself from the balcony. It was at this moment an explosion erupted from the library, showering the room in torn orangutans. Through the smoke and debris, Sidney caught a glimpse of the maître d’ disappearing into a fridge. He loosened his belt, and followed him in
James Ashford > Donovan Mike: 'Alpha'. He said it aloud. 'Alpha'. 'Alpha..alpha...ALPHA..ALPHA!!' He screamed the word until the tears sprung from his eyes and began hitting the page like bullets hammering against an old car.
He knew the answer. Old Riley was no ordinary donkey.
Donovan Mike > James Ashford: Marcus sped down the corridor, the broom hot on his heels. As he reached the dead end, he whirled, his whisk lancing out towards his wooden assailant. It was then that he noticed the pickled onion sandwich in the broom's left hand. Marcus slowly removed the sachet of custard from underneath his bowler hat, and started to pray.
James Ashford > Donovan Mike: Henry twisted left, then ran around the shaboowa. The boolas were getting closer and he didn't have chumpo to raloof before they closed in upon him. He had to make a decision. Eat the raffle cake or shoot the fairy. He closed his nogoos and prayed to goolan.
Donovan Mike > James Ashford: Noggin sat slumped in the boneyard, a hand pressed against his swollen head. The dustpan in front of him reached out one gnarled hand, the word 'sorry' crawling across its cracked lips. When the mop's axe descended, Noggin shuddered at the sound of splintering plastic and yoghurt started to stream from his fractured nose. Satisfied that the dustpan was dead, the mop gave Noggin a last lingering stare before hurling itself into a nearby pain au chocolat. Cradling the broken corpse of his friend in his arms, Noggin began to rue the day he spilled that pot of clotted cream.
Donovan Mike > James Ashford: Stop poking me and just fuk me L0l u no is tru! :P puffta (LMAO) mwah xX
James Ashford > Donovan Mike:
fuck me reel
fuk me ard
fuk me lo'
fuk me all fkin nite
...ere we goo
hooo
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