Hoorah for Jolly Bish-Wipe! He’s a ripe old fellow that one! He used to be such a storm down at the club. You should have seen him flying in with his ruddy cheeks and his whiskers bristling in the wind. I could tell you a story or two about him!
Do you remember that time when he was sliding down the bannisters with a girl under each arm and cocker spaniel under the other? No, you say that’s not possible but that’s how he told it anyway.
And then there was the time when he got chased out of a nunnery wearing only a packet of cornflakes and then they were living on those very cornflakes for more than a year. “Piffle!” you say? Well, it was a story worth listening to, I can tell you that. It’s more than you’ve got to offer.
And that’s without even mentioning the time when he single-handledly flew a hippopotamus right into the House of Commons and walked out without a scratch, just in time for last orders at the Earl of Windsor. They say it’s just a rumour, but I know a good old slice of ham sandwich when I hear one. That’s for sure. Good old Jolly Old Bishwipe, he was such fun to have around.
Was that him just now? It’s hard to say. Shall I go over and have a word? I’ll see if I can go and have a little chin wag with the old bugger.
No, it turns out he’s an impostor. This fool here was telling me all seven shades of nonsense. Said he’d been away having treatment for a borderline personality disorder or some such ripe trifle that they tell to children these days. That’s not the Bishwipe that I know. We should have him thrown out. Good Old Jolly used to make me tingle with excitement just to stand near him and that chap’s a total dud.
What shall we do with him? Have him flogged, that’s what. What? You say the bounder has a driving licence and a member’s card and it IS old Jolly after all? Well, I can tell you I’m not impressed in the slightest. What’s wrong with him? He’s like a damp old rag, full of soggy biscuits and flatulent excuses. “I’m really rather sorry for my erstwhile erratic behaviour and serial deceptions”. What a load of hogwash! I don’t care for that sort of levity one bit, not even in a month of Tuesdays. What a rum old codger! The cheek of it!
No. Take him outside and and escort him back to his residence. We can’t have the likes of him spoiling Afternoon Whisky with all that “I’m sorry about before” and “How can you ever forgive me?” rubbish. What a load of Old Bishwipe!
