The Agent Bertram Christmas Message by William Frederick
Dear readers, friends, and even the folk to whom I owe a few quid, Christmas is on us once again. I will not bore your socks off with a load of tosh about this great country of ours here in the UK. I wont tell you how strong, loyal and dedicated is our important relationship with our brothers and sisters in the United States, including President Elect Donald.
I will take a moment to tell you that a bunch of shit kicking, clueless, pinko wimps have been running the European Union and that they got into power by stealth, aided by slimy blood sucking lawyers. But their days are numbered. They are done for. It is only a matter of time. They are yesterdays men (and women).
We look forward to a new era of prosperity and freedom for both the UK and our chums in the USA. Freedom to not say what is politically correct, freedom to call a spade a spade!
Happy Christmas to one and all! The plum pudding is singing in the copper kettle, the brandy awaits and a huge jug of cream has… dammit! Tiddles has made off with the blooming cream! Come back Tiddles right now this very moment or you will be a fur hat by new year!
I’m dreaming of a white Christmas
Agent Bertram provided that white Christmas
God bless us one and all this Christmas! Merry Christmas everybody!
Hooded Crow (aka Hoodie) attacks the home of William Frederick! (Author and decent chap).
On Monday, Beloved had a frantic cleaning frenzy which included washing most of the windows in our home. Whilst this was occurring, I of course, snuck off and lurked by my Froggie Pond, threatening the Dragonfly Larvae with dire consequences should I catch them with my specialist equipment, a tea strainer taped to a walking pole. I chanced to notice a Hooded Crow raucously cackling at me from a large tree nearby. “Kwark… Kwark…” the Hoodie said. This translates as, “I’m going to crap all over your windows, fatty!” On my return, I was duly impressed at Beloved’s progress and made appropriate noises when I sidled in from our wilderness garden. “Cor!… Wow!…” and “Phew!” said I approvingly.
Hooded Crow Splat mark showing the outline of a Hooded Crow impacting the window.
The place was punishingly tidy and clinically cleansed in a way that only the fairer sex can achieve. The windows were so clean we could see for miles, well, at least as far as the hills over the other side of the loch and that’s quite far enough for me. Any further and you’re into the realms of Johnny Foreigner!
Yesterday we ventured north and drove our trusty steed up to Oban, filled it with food and wine and came back again. A sensible sort of foray done on a day when we thought that Oban might be quiet and devoid of kids running around like a hoard of horrid little snot goblins. It wasn’t and I was soon knee deep in screaming kids.