Well, it’s good to see things are back to normal and running smoothly at Captain Scott’s Electric Love Bunker.
Filthy corsairs! I curse you all! You and all who tolerate your sulfurous stench enough to provide you shelter! I urge the lot of you to masticate upon my reproductive equipment, you worm-eaten Mensheviks! It shall sooner rain raspberry sorbet in the infernal reaches than shall you find me kowtowing to such a ragged assemblage of filth!
And that was the nice bit.
Brooke, if your man doesn’t come down soon, I’m a good listener, I don’t mind if you have to cry about it, and the bed in my master suite is big enough for three.
Melissa won’t mind if we have to get a little squinched up, honest.