Thursday 26 March 2009

Sir Not-A-Lot.

Wimple-Smythe: “… O House of love! O desolate, pale flower beaten by the rain!”

<Polite gentle applause>

Exceedingly posh host: “Terrence Wimple-Smythe there with a delightfully delicate reading of Oscar Wilde’s La Bella Donna Della Mia Mente. Bravo. And now Melmoth Melmothson, with a self-composed piece titled ‘How Now Down Dwarrow’.

Melmoth: “I like…

<Spot lights fire-up, a bunch of dwarven dancers burst onto the stage>

big beards and I can not lie
You other brothers can’t deny
That when a dwarf walks in with his itty bitty pace
And a hairy rug on his face
You get sprung, wanna pull out your tough
‘Cause you notice that beard was stuffed
Deep in the belt he’s wearing
I’m hooked and I can’t stop staring
Oh shorty, I wanna group with you
And take your picture
My guild-mates tried to warn me
But that beard you got makes me so horny
Ooh, Rug-o’-matted-hair
You say you wanna get in my Guild?
Well, use me, use me
‘Cause you ain’t that average groupie
I’ve seen them dancin’
To hell with romancin’
He’s gruff, tough,
Got it goin’ like he’s turbo buffed
I’m tired of magazines
Sayin’ goatee beards are the thing
Take the average dwarf fan and ask him clear
He gotta pack much beard
So, guildies! (Yeah!) Guildies! (Yeah!)
Has your dwarf got the beard? (Hell yeah!)
Tell ’em to shake it! (Shake it!) Shake it! (Shake it!)
Shake that healthy beard!
Dwarfy got rug!

Word to your dvergar.”

<Silence; followed by the sound of someone’s monocle popping out.>

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