For the amusement of our friends in the Principality (well, two especially), here is a photographic representation depicting by the medium of cheap pottery the events at Twickenham on Saturday. However, I must say that I thought it was a tad harsh of both Sweens and Rohan to send me this picture. Independently, I might add.
This goading is tame compared with the evening that Nicholas telephoned me from a pub, and invited the whole pub to join him in a little ditty of his own invention (sung to the tune of “She’ll be coming round the mountain when she comes”) entitled “You can stick your fucking Chariots up your arse”. However, even I was surprised to find that such as simple lyric could be strung out for 23 verses…..
Worry not, my Welsh friends, the lion will roar again. Swing low.
This goading is tame compared with the evening that Nicholas telephoned me from a pub, and invited the whole pub to join him in a little ditty of his own invention (sung to the tune of “She’ll be coming round the mountain when she comes”) entitled “You can stick your fucking Chariots up your arse”. However, even I was surprised to find that such as simple lyric could be strung out for 23 verses…..
Worry not, my Welsh friends, the lion will roar again. Swing low.
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