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Greetings!

'A gaping silken dragon,/Puffed by the wind, suffices us for God./We, not the City, are the Empire's soul:/A rotten tree lives only in its rind.'

Monday 29 April 2013

Big man...

... not as in:


A Scottish novel, frae Scotland, made wi'girders, aboot Glasgae etc etc.

But, rather:


Hairy Pierre, unwashed, big fisted, sunburnt, small time smuggler, soon to be big time hero (if the Anglo-Saxons would just get a move on with the Second Front).

And:


Gaston de Chretian, one time noviciate turned Royalist fanatic.

But wait, the English intervene:


with an inappropriate (certainly not PC) song by a limp wristed fellow in a silk dressing gown.

Ah, it is but a ruse:


Yes! We are talking Too Fat Lardies and:


the stage is set.

To be continued...

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