Top military brass: Gentlemen, we're getting our asses kicked in south Armagh. Second in comand: We could always send in BH. Top military brass: We are talking, last resort?????????????????? Second in comand: Needs must OC. Top military brass: But for gawds sake man, he's only ten. Second in comand: He will have his rocking horse Sir. Low and behold, BH moves into south Armagh. Himself and Bob waddle up to the bar in the three steps and order two light an lager and two packets of pork scratchins.
I'm guessing that sounded funny in your head? Now, tell us all about your "big lottery win" which has left you not needing to work...but obviously hasn't allowed you to have a life seeing as you spend your entire life on this site? "Big, lottery winner" Mwahahahahahahahahahaha
