When the creepy little man came up out of the heather and asked me what I was doing pulling the heather off his roof, I threatened him with my stick. He asked for some of my dinner. “I’ll give you dinner!” I shouted. “I’ll give you a whack with my stick. How about that?”
Nobody gets anything from me, least of all a gnome in a little red cap, and, if you f-ing think my language is bad and toads are falling from my mouth, you can f-ing go to hell!