One of life’s great pleasures is insulting foreigners. Their great hooked noses, their silly little goatees, the goat’s cheese smell of their armpits. And their farts! The burned nutmeg singed with castor oil fermented with cabbage eruptions -intriguing aromas, yes, but hardly a match for your good old British doubled-baked full-fat-fried triple-reciprocating heavy-fuel-oil-lubricated Thruxton&Whitstable Krakatoa special now, are they? By George, no! But it’s not enough to fart on a foreigner as you pass one in the street: few will thank you for your efforts, and even fewer will worship you as a deity. No, if you’re an ambitious gent, you’ll travel to where there’s loads of foreigners to offend: Foreignland!
Let His Lordship’s rip-roaring tales delight your senses and shock your decencies! Cheerio! Pip pip! Ahoy!
Definitely go here. Shock and outrage the Norwegians. Then bugger off.
(image- public domain wikicommons)
That’s it for now, old spoon. Pip pip!