Any Les Mis reviews?

So Tommy hates hypocrites and people who spend waaaaaaaaaaay too much time on the Internet, huh? Guess the regular dirty laundry airing of the Buttery-Chesty-Schulze threesome is pushing you closer and closer to that clock tower. Myself? I just can't stand people who are intolerant (yep, here comes another "World's Funniest Man Award").

(And if Mel Brooks had only written, "So, I see your Schulze is as big as mine!" Just think of what might have been....)

Bit of an in-joke there too, for all you folks playing at home. Of course, Amanda doesn't actually wear any underpants. Even if she did, they'd have to be hand-me-downs from Mike Myers to fit one of my reviews on them. Top marks for all of you who realised that I was breathlessly returning one of Amanda's bras (again, with one of my reviews, this is the whole full-cup style, rather than one of those shelf-top jobbies she wears between the hours of dusk and dawn). And don't judge us! Struggling thespians, even those as talented and fiery as Amanda and Dean, have to make ends meet between those few-and-far acting jobs in Perth.

With posts like this, I'm sure my time is fast running out. When finally offered my choice of death, I can think of no other way to go than Sesame Street's - curiously appropriate - word for this week: Embosomed.

JB


Thou fobbing knotty-pated mammet!

Now that's just too close for comfort....