Freedom Farters

Today, as Mah Muzzerr and ah share breakfast, ah ask ‘er,
‘ow come ah not run az fast az Le Uncle’?
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We ‘ad been watching Le Uncle gallop laps around le paddock.
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‘e go az fast az a rocket; a very fast one.
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Even la Cat, Flossom MacFearsome waz impressed.
She can only imagines going zat fast.
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Ah ask le pooch if ‘e know ‘ow to run zo fast, but ‘e is an idiot.
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Zo ah decide to ask Le Uncle.
at first ‘e wasn’t very impressed az ah interrupt ‘iz num time, but zoon,
using flattery technique taught to me by ‘im, ah win ‘im over.
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‘Le Uncle’, ahd zay, ‘you are a very fast (and ‘andzome) ‘orze,
ah want to be zat fast one day, what iz your secret?’
Zon, ‘e whisper in mah ear, it’s called hard yakka.
You’ve got to fart for it’.
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Well of course now I can’t wait to try zis.
‘Fart?’ ah zay, and ah am very pleased az, ah come from a long line of family farters – it iz something ah am very good at.
‘Like zis’? you mean…
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‘No, no’ zay le Uncle, ‘you’ll have to do better than that, mate, put some effort into it’.
Ah try again and all of a sudden…
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Ah am off  like a rocket, speeding across le paddock before ah know what to do wiz mah legs.
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As ah slow down ah let rip again and zis time ah am propelled up.
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And off.
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‘That’s it son’ zay Le Uncle.
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Zere iz no one ‘oo can fart like me. Ah am a Freedom Farter. Ah am farting for mah independence.
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But all of a zudden, Quelle ‘orror, I zeem to ‘ave run out of gas.
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Ah am becalmed!
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Next zing ah know, mah Muzzerr storms across le paddock,
shouting at me not to be such a silly little boy and Le Uncle iz banned from playing wiz me again and nobody iz allowed to fart again.
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