Howya Branshea

Here's a freshly squeezed one fer ya what I made earlier.

Howye fokes! How is things?

Mr Slasher is big huge inta customer service alltagather and is always concerned about the health and wellbeing a his punters – cos he knows only too well that the longer we all stay hale and harty, the longer we’ll slurp his ale and party.

Well, the other week he was a bitteen concerned that we wasn’t getten our five-a-day supply a frute and vegatibles and so decided ta introduce alciholic frute shots in ta the bar menu. He organised a big huge launch fer the campain alltagather, and even invited such dignitaries as the Mandirin a Manulla and the Sultana a Swinford fer ta open the festivities. I don’t know meself if there’s any truth in the rumour that the pear a them is daten, but they sure looked peachy tagather. A course, that gallopen trollop, Goldilocks, was ded jealous fer sure and tried ta peel them apart, but only ended up looken like a right gooseberry.

Anyways, the night a the openen was brillant alltagather and there was free shots fer everyone – freshly made outta all kinds a exotic frutes from all over the world. Us Teds was there in our numbers fer sure, maken sure that we got our bite outta the cherry and the atmosphere was only magic – like there was a electric currant flowen through it or somethin. At one pint me little pal, Albear Camoo, was even eyen up Loxy’s melons, who by now was sucken on a sour grape and blowen raspberries at the sultana and the mardirin and generally maken a right lemon outta herself alltagather. I’ll tell ya we was haven the time a our lives fer sure, guzzlen shot after exotic shot.

And then, towards the enda the night, things got fierce juicy alltagather when the door bursted open and this fierce angry-looken little bush limped up ta the bar waven a gun and sed, “I’ve come fer the man what shot me papaw!”

Be seein ya

GallantTed