Pissed Orf

The price of readability is eternal editorial vigilance.

I had kicked off with a turgid tale of iron gates and intruders. Thanks to a incisive comment, I now see that the worth of this posting was entirely in the last paragraphs.

[Excise a Bible's length of waffle ... camera - lights - action]

I am such a lazy boy. At this hour I can't always be bothered to find the loo but just pee over the balcony.

Just now stepped out and drenched the patio round the garden shed only to hear cusses and howls in distinctly Alabanian tones.

It has been a bone of contention that Kosta allows his compadres to simply roll up and "borrow" our fine jardinerie tools. As a result, they do it under cloak of darkness, as was the case ce soir.

My piddling coincided with some varlet's exiting with our best shovels and that nice rake I like to use outside my room.

Right on the bloke's bonce. Poetic justice.