What Ho!
"Those aren't my begonias!" you sputter.
"No, of course not, they're MINE!" snarls Ghastley.
"He's just displaying a lack of comprehension of property rights, milord," explains Sir Bob "Unfortunately, all too common a state of mind among the criminal classes."
"No, no," you stammer. "I mean that, the thing is you see, I was not the one that put them there."
"You have an accomplice?" offers MacG, a bit late to the conversation and no help at all.
"No, I don't. I mean, I didn't steal the blasted plant and I didn't put it in my room and nobody helped me not do that, either."
Sir Bob seems unwilling to let the whole thing go. "Why the blazes would anyone else steal the flowers for you and stuff them in your room?"
You break under questioning. "Cuddy! Cuddy must have done it!" Perhaps not your finest hour, vis-a-vis the chivalric code and all, but sometimes the guilty conscience must come clean.
Cuddy flushes and darts forward, administering a violent hand to your face. "You jerk! First you swipe my begonias, then you try to squeal on me! The wedding's OFF you lousy creep!"
"Ow!" you rejoin. "Dash it Cuddy!" you say, massaging your nose.
Fatty joins in on the domestic spat. "Posteltwaite, you were holding out on me! And look, Winifred is crying!"
True to form, the vile Cuddy is turning on the faucets. You are about to point out that she is hardly one to be upset, what with her hardened criminal heart and all, when Fatty lets go with an uppercut to your jaw.
"Oooof!" you comment, falling upon your keister.
"My hero!" cries Cuddy, embracing Fatty.
"Hey now, that's the spirit!" says MacG. "Nothing like a good bare knuckle fight." He pats Fatty on the back.
All eyes are off you for a moment while Fatty basks in the adulation of the grateful masses.
Timpson pokes his head in the bedroom window. "Sir, this way! A quick hop out the window an you ought to be grabbing this here lovely drainpipe. Which as, Tony's got the getaway car running now. Move your b---- a----! Sir."
"No, of course not, they're MINE!" snarls Ghastley.
"He's just displaying a lack of comprehension of property rights, milord," explains Sir Bob "Unfortunately, all too common a state of mind among the criminal classes."
"No, no," you stammer. "I mean that, the thing is you see, I was not the one that put them there."
"You have an accomplice?" offers MacG, a bit late to the conversation and no help at all.
"No, I don't. I mean, I didn't steal the blasted plant and I didn't put it in my room and nobody helped me not do that, either."
Sir Bob seems unwilling to let the whole thing go. "Why the blazes would anyone else steal the flowers for you and stuff them in your room?"
You break under questioning. "Cuddy! Cuddy must have done it!" Perhaps not your finest hour, vis-a-vis the chivalric code and all, but sometimes the guilty conscience must come clean.
Cuddy flushes and darts forward, administering a violent hand to your face. "You jerk! First you swipe my begonias, then you try to squeal on me! The wedding's OFF you lousy creep!"
"Ow!" you rejoin. "Dash it Cuddy!" you say, massaging your nose.
Fatty joins in on the domestic spat. "Posteltwaite, you were holding out on me! And look, Winifred is crying!"
True to form, the vile Cuddy is turning on the faucets. You are about to point out that she is hardly one to be upset, what with her hardened criminal heart and all, when Fatty lets go with an uppercut to your jaw.
"Oooof!" you comment, falling upon your keister.
"My hero!" cries Cuddy, embracing Fatty.
"Hey now, that's the spirit!" says MacG. "Nothing like a good bare knuckle fight." He pats Fatty on the back.
All eyes are off you for a moment while Fatty basks in the adulation of the grateful masses.
Timpson pokes his head in the bedroom window. "Sir, this way! A quick hop out the window an you ought to be grabbing this here lovely drainpipe. Which as, Tony's got the getaway car running now. Move your b---- a----! Sir."