Day 132, Set her free, Mrs Angel

"Damn this wooden lip" and other Ripping Yarns misquotes.


LORD BARTLESHAM: Set her free, Mrs Angel.
LADY BARTLESHAM (exchanging a brief glance with Mrs Angel): She is free, dear.
LORD BARTLESHAM: Judy... free? Surely not.
LADY BARTLESHAM: They're all free, dear... all the servants. There's been no slavery in this country for donkey's years.
LORD BARTLESHAM: But Judy -- little slip of a girl, washes floors all day long...
LADY BARTLESHAM (a hint of impatience): She's still free, dear.
LORD BARTLESHAM: Well, I think it's a great shame...
LADY BARTLESHAM: What is a shame, dear?
LORD BARTLESHAM: Not being able to free people. (He lays his paper down and his eyes begin to glisten.) It must have been a wonderful thing to do... just sort of free a chap... some poor miserable wretch in chains... and along you come and say... "You're free! You're a free man... Off you go! Run around wherever you want!" Imagine the new life that's about to open up for him.
Roger of the Raj


Somewhere in a cobweb covered folder, hidden away in a darkened corner on a D: drive, there are some oddities - zip files of Jimmy McGriff, memtest86, and the odd diagram of a motorcycle.

An Arctic Fox ate my mojo, my black cat bone is broken and needs pinning, and to top it off the rabbits foot has got mange.

Some days there just aren't enough letters in the alphabet, and the order is all incorrect.

Washed down with a glass of the wrong beer.

Cheerbs.