Deathreat Man sends jazzcops, knacker of the knockingshops, vicesquad packin' - undercover, but they ratted themselves out and away with hamradioreceiving wired rainmacs and hamacting. Deathreat Man 10-4'd the interference from Kojaks with Kodaks in their underdaks, who'll win no lifeimitatingart bitpart in 'The Bill'. But Deathreat Man can't coast and cotch it yet, coz Deathreat Mansion is still apugwash with picaroon scrut DVDs, e.g. 'Captain Mike Oddpeace and Ye Comeliest, Wenchiest Trickarse Skanks of Albion', 'United Nations of T'n'A: Resolution 69247', 'Celeb Gilfs, Vol 11: the Royal Jubblies' and other semenal skinema fuzzboxoffice hits, tho' Deathreat's sno-res copies will have you hitting the fuzzy box.
But it wouldn't hurt to send a Yakuza biker called Keyser Suzaki as an agent of embracery, who'll hurt any justice nuts amongst the jury, mow Magnacarta hardliners down doubly with his sports- bike and his katana. For should goddess Pomeroy pointedly forgot to blindfold prove totem like Diphoterine t'any o' that 12, who should have been crying blind ( tho' their intimidator was trained in Tokyo Road Rash Kendo, not sprayin' Captor), then they'll send Deathreat Man to deathrebtors' gaol in a blackmaria like Batman's campervan.
I miss you less than a mousehole moon. I miss you less than a catflapped cocoon. I miss you like I miss a swaggering buffoon. I miss you less than a household name, ergo I miss you less than Cheggers or Charlemagne. I miss you like I miss being in a portaloo in a typhoon. Miss you like **** on my shoe or **** on my socks.
I miss you less than Miss Hoolie from 'Balamory' on CBeebies misses her sidearms. I miss you like Balamory misses H-achin' 'ooligan McDougalls from the pen of Irvine. I miss you less than, I dunno, the last of the Val Doonicans.
I'd miss you if I was sick as a skaggot of selfrespect. Should I miss the vortex which was there instead of wholesome loving whoresex? I miss you like I miss a spacehopper on the tightrope. I miss you like I miss the Corpse of Hope. I miss you like Christ misses his bike or a fish misses a feminist. And Abel towhomallskeletonsareapprentices could not miss missin' 'To The Manor Born' both 1st time round and on Gold the other umpteenillion showings, or in anthologised form on boxset in bluerayhidef ANY LESS. Yet I miss you less than that, less than another time, place and culture's trivia millennia after my death.
Hera forbid I'm one of Cupid's flibbertigibbets, but I've no weepy wist for you now, not e'en the weeniest whit, now I bask in the favour, all righty, of Aphrodite, coz what me and my newbitofstuff's got is bona fide. I even miss all the times I missed before I met her; I'd exchange ever being with you to have got here earlier.
But if I'm pushed, I guess I lament your absence as much as I miss Princess Diana's. Call me 'Percy Controversy' (or Controversial Percival the Thirdival in front of royalty), but I never met the Lady.