I'm Not A Heavy Drinker, I Can

An Infant Prodigy Of Nine Is Shoved Upon The Stage In White. She Starts Off In A Dismal Whine About A Dark And Stormy Night, A Burglar, Whose Heart Is True, Despite His Wicked-looking Face, Who Puts The Little Child In Doom, To Save Her Mamma's Jewel Case. This May Bring Tears To Every Eye; It Does Not Set My Heart On Fire. I'd Like To Stand Serenely By And Watch That Horrid Child Expire.

The Stately Homes Of England, How Beautiful They Stand, To Prove The Upper Classes, Have Still The Upper Hand.

Never Trust A Man With Short Legs. His Brains Are Too Near His Bottom.

Your Motivation Is Your Pay Packet On Friday. Now Get On With It.

Why Do I Drink Champagne For Breakfast? Doesn't Everyone?