Laffs, monkey business, moonshine.
By: Patrick Cates
By: P.G. Wodehouse
“Chaos!” moaned Lady Constance.
“Just you start in joshing my poems and see how quick I’ll bean you with a brick.”
“You seem to imply that I am some sort of a criminal.”
“Beetles. Always had a horror of beetles. Ever since I was a kid.”
“Pals, pardner, pals! Pals till hell freezes!” cried Freddie, deeply moved.