My favourite blow up sheep Morag was recently ewe-napped.
Oh woe (as the saying goes) was me.
But i channelled my woe to productive and rescued her from the foul clutches of some evil sentient cheese which was in cahoots with the goats and their allies - farmers and aliens (its a long story.) Anyhoo, to celebrate the return of my plastic, fantastic mock-woolly companion, i made some chinese style spare ribs.
Ribs make me frisky. Ribs make Morag frisky, as if being in my company and having the honour of being my prime synthetic conc-ewe-bine wasn´t already enough to make her smouldering desire for me burst into rampant flame... mmmm... just talking about her, talking about... ribs... mmmm... makes me wanna put my best wellies on... oh great googlymoogly... hubba hubba... yeah... yeah... ewe want it... what´s my name... say my name... WHAT´S MY NAME... look baby... no hands... no chopsticks either... uh... uh... uh yeah... mmmm...
Then we had fortune cookies. Which was nice.
