Hinney, ya could not shoot anyone doon even if ya had a twelve bore shotgun, ya would like ta think ya could but ya canit ya are just like a spoilt bairn stampin and wailing and hoying a tantrum cos ya canit get tha own way, mind thee ya could mevies talk or bore a few ta shoot thasells , but me only irritation comes from me poor owld Farmer Giles throbbing
Ya see a divint really give a gnats chuff aboot Easter eggs or any of the other daft things ya blart on and obsess aboot, but a naa it gets rite up ya beak when folk divint agree with everything ya say and fail ta fall on bended knee and woorship ya, so it gives is a good laugh ta see ya teek all the bait a hoy at ya, and naa that ya will have steam cumming oot ya lugs wi a face like a turkey cock bangin away on ya computa
Ya see hinny ya teek ya sell owa serious, and ya are more easy ta wind up than me owld alarm clock and a must admit ya meck is laugh
Now a hear the word Christmas is ganna be banned from wa puddings this year, what di ya meek o that hinney