It was a hot and barren wasteland, a no-man’s land. No one had sought to plunge headlong into its luxurious depth, which was once rich with the soil of fecundity, for what seemed like a millennium.
It had now become somewhat of a forbidden place, a terrain that because it burned with the heat of a thousand suns, could no longer sustain any signs of life.
In the past, many men had tried to traverse its enormous and expansive plains but they had quickly perished by the wayside, exhausted and ragged, their last breaths pulled from their lungs as they valiantly struggled onwards towards the finishing point. None of them ever made it. And so this place, this land devoid of hope and being, remained abandoned and wanting. But enough about my vagina, let’s get on to today’s letter, which is…
Cockney rhyming slang-Dog and Bone
Example, as told by this badly written joke-The dog and bone rang in the stately home of Lord Armstrong and his butler answered the call.’It’s me. Please go to my wife’s bedroom and tell her that I’ll be home late from the club.’
I’m sorry, Milord, her ladyship is already asleep.’
‘Then wake her and tell her, while I hold the dog and bone, the caller demanded.
‘Yes, Sir,’ the butler replied.The butler returned and said, ‘My Lord, her ladyship’s door was locked, and when I knocked, a man’s voice told me to go hell.’The caller then ordered gruffly, ‘Damn them! Get a rifle from my collection, break down the door, and shoot them both.Yes, Sir,’ the butler responded. A few minutes later, the butler returned to the dog and bone and reported, ‘My Lord, I tried my best. I killed your wife, but as I was about to shoot the man, he jumped through the window and into the garden, and ran away.’The confused caller then said, ‘Eh, what garden? There’s no garden next to my bedroom window.”In that case, Sir, I am afraid you dialled a wrong number. Good day.’