Dr G's Appendix

 
Well, just one last post then.

Dr G has mourned the end of the blog.

Doesn't even talk excitedly about the graves he robs whilst his female colleague claims everything she finds is a phallic symbol - even if it's a perfect dodecahedron.

I've been feeling sorry for Dr G.  Left only with the local paper to read run by grockles and owned by the Americans.

Strange people the Americans - they seem more proud at defeating the Redskins than the Redcoats.  How many Cowboy and Redcoat films have you seen?

I shall of course continue to keep Dr G's identity a secret.  After all, I got paranoid when he wanted to acknowledge me in a book published by the aforesaid Americans.  Can't remember what that was about.  As Sherlock Holmes pointed out, you can't remember everything.

I can disclose though that Dr G is political consultant to Rev Roland's Bournemouth Party.

So now, onto Sunday lunch.  I cooked a five meat roast just in case anyone doubted my supremacy over Toby's Carvery.

I handicapped myself by getting it all from the supermarket.  Everything I got said to cook it on the middle shelf! 

How do they expect everything to fit on the middle shelf??!