Himself the pop star is as dear to me as he is to you, (the jury's still out on those Pals of his) however, I am grieved at all that is happening in this house. Scarcely anyone in it is honest, and all the others are music tarts. It is hard to throw yourselves at the feet of those who betray you. There was a time (before that dreadful Moorhead became a part of all our lives) we all thought Drew Peacock a dishonest man but he is now the established press officer for himself and his tarts did I say tarts I meant Pals. That way lies madness you mark my words. I had to tell him Swiss nazi gold was not a radio station... Anyway as long as Moorhead gets the money Moorhead thinks everything is as it should be, and she who does not, that's me by the way, must sit in the economy section. I was fuming! First of all I wash... I use cutlery... and I can carry things on my head. I omit a thousand other advantages. Take my advice and listen to what I say...was that the bell? That'll be Himself ringing for his pint of gin and tonic. All right! All right! I it's coming ...ungrateful bastard! Anyway I must be getting on see you next time.-EDNA BUCKET
If every smart guy was this stupid, I'd be running the show in no time! I mean, holy crap! What a dope! I could tell him anything! Absolutely anything! Have him running him around in circles! Do this, Schulace! All the "it" people are doing it! Wear this Schulace! Buy that Schulace! Go there Schulace! I'd have him twisted like a pretzel! Not like what's his face or Rusty. Can't pull much over on them. What.....? My tailor Hah! He's not one of them. Not really. He's ... more like that Tea Cosy guy. A co-conspirator. He wants to blow things up! Torpedo the ark! Start all over! It's Edna Bucket who has no respect, for Schulace or Munky or Cosy or Rusty. None of them. She's leading them toward a cliff. A steep one, if you ask me. Something to do with his shirts and her housekeeping allowance. That'll be quite a hardship if she seeks other employment. Not that I feel sorry for the mean ol' bugger I mean, I'd love to watch him lose his shirt and his damn shoes. He doesn't deserve a pair like that. Just because he goes along with the octopus thing. It pisses me off. What are us poor m***** f*****s supposed to do? We get to choose from all the nasty pies? And what do you think happens if Corduroy Kingston gets caught? He won't get criticsed. Not him! He's a respected member of society! It'll be me! That's right! I'll get the slagging! Fortunately, she knows what he's doing. Burfle and Fishleigh too. They won't get busted. Still, I'd like to know what their plan is. It makes me nervous. Impersonating a fishmonger. I mean, if that's the first step ... what's next? ...anyway I'll keep you posted -CRAVEN MOORHEAD
"I'm the arbiter of justice. The voice of reason, placed in the ocean for 9 years with the holy octopus, Oobu, of Baalb by Tarvu himself"she said, forcing the office supplies cupboard door open. "I know what goes on out there. I hear it every day. You don't know." "You've never seen the real thing. You have nothing to compare, you look at that thing and think lunch!" She began poking him in the chest with each sylable "Some-bo-dy-bakes-pies. Meat-pies." she said "Good." He said "But I look, you know what I see?" she interupted."I'm looking at the big picture. The outcome. The end result. I'm not caught up in the minutiae. I can see what's really at stake. I mean, if we were talking about a shoe shop, a living, breathing shoe shop that will depend on you for everything. For life. For understanding". "But mostly for shoes."He said. " Silence!" she screamed "It would be your Tarvu-given responsibility to lead all cobbler's, key cutters, and heel bar attendants to the underpants of righteousness. To force them to wear the trousers of Tarvu". "Then...." she paused for effect "when you die, your soul will spend 9 years in the oceans. If you survive, spiritually, you are allowed to go to Tarvupia." "Tarvupia is a giant sphere that is larger than the universe itself. It is made up of infinity-minus-one concentric circles, each one leading, eventually to Tarvu. But I digress"she said."New paperclips have arrived" -EDNA BUCKET.
Hello everyone Craven Moorhead here. Well now I should tell you Emma Roids has departed for pastures anew. If Edna Bucket hadn't given her a damn good tongue-lashing, she never would have shut up! Screaming and wailing and throwing herself on the floor like a child! Going on and on about this or that! Her Mandolin! Management betrayal! The fires of Hell! Women are ridiculous creatures. I mean, they're ruled by the one organ that's practically guaranteed to get you in trouble. The heart..... Followed closely by the mouth. Still, they're good for something. I mean, they have their uses. Don't they? There are reasonable arguments for keeping them around. Certain incentives. Amenities they provide. I intend to "have" a woman shortly. I intend to produce a child. One that will carry my name. Moorhead! I know she won't enjoy it. I'm so... you know.... But she swore an oath. And I'm making an effort to make things as pleasant as possible. Schulace gave me this cologne which is supposed to drive women wild. And I've been working out. Lost some weight. A little bit. Here. Right here. Can you tell? - Craven Moorhead.
She stared at me for a long time. I knew the whole thing was on the line. This was it. "Whatever" she said. She sighed. She didn't speak for a long time. Finally, she said, "Since my husband's stupidity, my mother's selfishness, and my fishmongers greed have conspired to force me into something I never would have done under normal circumstances ... I have no choice but to accept it as the will of Tarvu." Then she swore her undying love and sealed it with a ... well ... something special. As they were pulling us apart, she slipped me an exchange and mart. "I'll get Kingston" she said..."Corduroy Kingston"...Oh Christ! - SCHULACE