A Tale From The East End Of Old London

A Tale From The East End

By Rick Haynes

I was a bit Brahms and Listz to be honest. So all I wanted was a Jimmie, but a bit of J Arthur wouldn't go amiss. Then this horse and cart walks into the wrong bog, her raspberry ripples hanging out. I couldn't Adam and Eve it. She had the biggest Bristols I had ever seen and blimey, what a boat race. She gave me such a butchers, took hold of my Chalk Farm and led me into the cubicle. She held my Hampton in a firm grip and blimey what a Donald Duck that was. She had to be a pro. I gave her a poney and she left. I felt in my sky rocket. The bitch was a pro alright, my wallet had gone for a ball and chalk. I was in a right two and eight, screwed by a professional tea leaf. THE END. P.S. Translation services available - LOL

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