Today, zanks to me, zere was a brief breakthrough in paddock relations.
My Muzzerr waz too ‘ot to care for me zo she ‘anded me over to my Uncle zo ah pretended ah waz dead again.
Le Uncle, ‘e waz very concerned.
Maate, he said, are you OK?
Of course ah am not OK ah reply, can’t you see, ah am dead.
Maaate, are you sure? Ee said in zat ridiculouz Australian accent of ‘is, because if that’s the case, someone had better have a yarn to your Mother.
OK I said, I give up, ahm not really dead, but ah iz too ‘ot
It’s hot alright, he said, it’s as dry as a frogs left armpit.
Ah imagine a frogs left armpit and zis make me laugh out loud.
A frogs left armpit, ah sniggered, in a worldly zort of knowing way.
Ah did not admit to not ‘aving come across any direction froggy armpit before.
My Muzzerr, sayz it is az dry az a bag of chaff I zaid.
Ahh, said Le Uncle, well we won’t mention anything about a frogs armpit to her then.
Mum’s the word.
I wazn’t sure zen if ‘e waz talking about My Muzzer’s armpit – which in mah experience iz very ‘airy.
Tell you what Mate, ‘e said…and ah waz all earz…
Has anyone told you you look like Elvis?
Elvis oo? Ah zaid before ah could ‘alp muhself.
It’s this hairstyle you’ve got going, he said.
DON’T touch Le ‘air! I yelled but it waz too late.
My Muzzerr, she spend a lot of time on my ‘air and she waz furious.
Ah ‘ad to get up zen.
And zo zat waz zat, Le Uncle Persil is banned from mah company.
