“But I thought that Pavlov was a ballerina,” said Bertie, a little confused.
“I was thienking that he was a fruity meringue,” offered Grietja.
“Well maybe he was, but he had this dog and it kept having things taken away from it, if you catch my drift. Now, if Bertie doesn’t want his nookie declared forfeit, he’ll jolly well sit down and be a good boy!”
“Oh, I am really sorry, old thing,” said Bertram, trying to make amends in his drug-induced befuddlement. “I’m so ashamed.” Speaking to Grietja, he aimed himself in the general direction of the couch, “I blooming-well love my Gertrude, I always have, don’t you know… ” He started to sob, sad sobs born of years of loneliness and regret.
“Bertie!” hissed Gertrude exasperatedly but he was in a chemically-enhanced, emotional turmoil and there was no stopping him.
“I’m so proud of her. She wasn’t born into the lap of luxury, like what I was. Oh no indeed! Trudie was brought up over her parents’ fish and chip shop… Wusser’s Fish & Chip Emporium…but look where she’s got to now! Teaching English to overseas foreign university clever folk! You have to admire a girl who has worked so hard to batter herself!”
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