Here’s a classic for your listening pleasure this New Years day. Right, right, New Years day evening. Assuming you’re here. If you’re somewhere else, well, I’ve no idea where you are or what the time is. Sorry.
Regarding this clicky bitty, if I was a critic or reviewer, I’d use the original phrase, ‘it works on so many levels.’ And that it does.
If you can listen to this without cracking a smile or thinking,
“Yup, I know exactly where he’s coming from”, then you’re made o' wood. You made o' wood then? Shame. On the plus side, you’re still biodegradable.
And thus, without further a-did, fix a nice drink, get your feet up the fire, if it’s cold, wet and miserable like it is here, and spare a few, okay, several, no, wait, many, something like fifteen minutes and give it a whirl. You won’t regret it, that’s a promise. By the way, it's old, but, as it's coming from Foggy, I don't need to tell you that do I?
You enjoy that? Knew you would. Now go read Mr Booker on Europe and, our old favourite, windmills an' such. As ever, he nails it nicely.
Quote; Rodney Dangerfield.
“My wife is always trying to get rid of me. The other day she told me to put the garbage out. I told her I already did. She told me to go and keep an eye on it.”
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