Quote:
Originally posted by Mickwish Ah, shades of Harvey!!  |
HUH!

Mick's right, I gotta get a
new groove, here...
Okay, how about this: The
fin de siecle writing style of the old Victorian
risque novel:
oh no!
Lady Atrocitory drew a lazy arc across my naked chest with her soft Estonian wild Turkey feather. I was helpless to stop her careless attentions, having been bound to the Louis Quinze brass bed by silk scraves that had cost the toenails of various Estonian craftswomen their sense of taste to produce.
When, finally, she did deign to speak, it was only after the unspeakably sensual act of putting a violet
pastille onto her voluptuous tongue.
"Oh, Knothead, you who know such qualities of Virtue as to impugn our maidenly vows, how should it come to pass that your PM box should be as stuffed as a
Chataubriand avec spinace della con tutti frutti, ehh?" she sighed, as she pushed a violet-tinted tongue into my ear.
"No..." I moaned. "No! and no again..."

Better?