Let Me Speak Clearly

Following an announcement from The Powers That Be at work this very afternoon, I think it's important to make my feelings on the matter abundantly clear.

I shan't make the actual topic public in these Bloggeries, but needless to say it was one that swiftly and efficiently garnered The Wrath Of Dungeekin. Which, I confess, doesn't narrow it down much.

It's been said before that I have a potty mouth, and I enjoyed a very cathartic session of Anglo-Saxon vernacular in another recent post, so for the sake of my more delicate readers and The Darling G I will endeavour to keep this clean.


You can CENSORED my CENSORED and CENSORED it up your CENSORED CENSORED with a RUSTY CENSORED - it's CENSORED CENSORED CENSORED's felching CENSORED CENSORED goat-sucking CENSORED interfering with CENSORED, on CENSORED CENSORED Spanish Inquisition. CENSORED CENSORED of a SYPHYLITIC MOOSE and, anyway, CENSORED CENSORED on a CENSORED up CENSORED you fetid CENSORED . If you CENSORED with a CENSORED underpants of an unwashed Frenchman's CENSORED CENSORED on a red-hot soldering iron, 440V and CENSORED, your CENSORED smelled of elderberries and CENSORED CENSORED, oozing pustules of CENSORED .

So CENSORED and have a nice CENSORED. And your little dog, too.

I feel better for that. I think it needed to be said.