Oh, stop it. The testosterone fumes are choking me...
You're right. I won't be able to make it, anyway. I have to do eight hours down the pit, wrestle a bull, have sex with fifteen women, build a barn, drive my car very fast, drink twenty-seven pints of real ale, have a cold shave, masturbate, fight someone, chop a tree down, and kill a donkey with one blow to the head, on that night. Sorry, Flyboy, you're on your own. |
