Gaaargh, the island were filled with noisome and disappointin’ly tasteless simians. Despite their unwholesome natures they’d a strong family structure which I’d admire were I not from a broken and lovelorn home. Arrr, but enough about me. Ye see, when we crammed ye brutes into barrels for our amusement they went all tribal on poor No Hands Mick and nicked off with his prosthetic mitts. Ye only other pair were the fine silver twin fists inlaid with gold. Mick’s lost ’em to Billy in a gruellin’ game o’ Slap Me Knackers (originated by Old Sam Knacker the Sail Patcher) some days ago and they were now hid in Billy’s stash ‘neath him and his primate playmate. And so, on to ye plan…
Thanks for Everything, But He’s Gone
The Agony of Waiting for Bad News The last four days have been unique in my experience. I’ve been fortunate enough to have never had