THOSE TREASONOUS LECHERS!

THE MUSICAL BAND HAS WOKEN ME FROM MY AFTERNOON SIESTA AND I AM LIVID, JUST LIVID! I AM SPITTING RAISIN-SIZE FLECKS OF SPITTLE AND RADIATING QUANTA OF WHITE HOT FURY! MY PANTALOONS HAVE GROWN THREE SIZES TOO TIGHT! THERE IS A HIGH-PITCHED WHISTLING EMITTING FROM THE PORES IN MY SKIN AND I AM SALIVATING FEROCIOUSLY! A HONEY POT HAS JUST TIPPED OVER! I CANNOT SEE THE COLOURS BLUE NOR ORANGE DUE TO MY OVERPOWERING RAGE! VEXACIOUS PLUMTREES AND KALEIDOSCOPIC DANDY PUFFS, FORTHWITH MINE ORBIT IST STRIPPING CLEEAANNN...

Pilgrimage!

Inspired by the day, I dipped deeply into my wardrobe and tried to fashion myself into an emulation of the Great Reverend Brewster. The doublet and breeches were easy to come by, having recently come across, illegally (a long story), a heavy oaken trunk filled with such garments, and my hunting cape served as a passable cloak, but I was vexed by attempting to locate a Monmouth cap. Tears of frustration came fast and hard. It is indeed a sight to see, a full-grown English settler weeping and gnashing his teeth, and so I've been staring into a mirror for most of the morning. Now it is time to dig a Turkey Pit.