Owww, not a-bloody-gain.
Dirty little so-and-sos, leaving their sodding anvils lying about the frigging place.
KEEEEEITH! KEEEITH! Rubber gloves and flamethrowers over 'ere, sharpish!
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*Ding dong!* Morning, luv - Wump Kontrol 'ere. Let's 'ave a look. Oh, dear, dear dear. Oh, dear me. KEITH! KEITH! This is going to be a flamethrower job. {To Rysky} Sorry about yer carpets, missus, but it's the only way to shift 'em. |