Thassorl, really.
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An aversion which does you credit.
Struggling to find a redeeming feature in tonight’s heap of ordure, it occurred to me that at least this episode was tacit acknowledgement that in Kirsty they have created…
…a moron.
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And one who has never at any point been given anything in the way of happy-ever-after under any editor.
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Good. Useless piece of flesh, prone to making very stupid decisions.
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You know, if someone said to me “I heard That Fish talking about losing money on the horses, and I thought you ought to know” I would be strongly tempted to come up with a confessional fabulation for as long as I could keep my face straight.
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A trifling and transient inability to differentiate stableboys from their less stable cousins might perhaps briefly have tempted my good Fish into exuberant speculation but, and as the old saw does not quite have it, you will find luck is a empersonated in a fish with full pockets…
Now git orff me land
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And then tell me so I could play up to it?
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If me beak had not slipped by then.
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You could pretend to be crying not suffering from uncontrollable laughter – the two sound quite similar…
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