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6th Oct 2015 at 8:18pm
Angus Clydesdale: My hen laid a haddock, one hand oiled a flea, Glad farts and centurions threw dogs in the sea. I could stew a hare here and brandish Dan’s flan, Don’s ruddy bog’s blocked up with sand. Dad! Dad! Why don’t you oil Auntie Glad? Can’t whores appear in beer bottle pies? O butter the hens as they fly!