Rat Attack

I had a rat kornered in the korner of my abode. It was a grate big rat, about too feat long, including the auld scaly tale. The rat was peeping out from behind a pile of dirty drawers and simmets, I had left out about three weaks ago, prior to washing. The rat looked at me with it's wee red eyes and emmitted sharp hi pitched squeals that reminded me of the B-Gees during their hay day. "Come out you bugger" I yelled."But The rat refused to comply with my reasonabe request. "Rite" I said, as I went for the bisum, "On your own head be it boy". I poked the rat with the end of the bisum. The rat gave a squeel like a scalded kat, broke cover and ran up my leg. When the rat came too my anatomical cull-de-sack, it clung on viciously with it's claws too the feminine part of me, that is known in the medical profession as the "Under-carriage" but what most weeman call, Australia-or "Down there". "Let go you abomination" I yelled "I mite want too have more wains". Once again, the rat refused to comply with my reguest. I was standing with both knees together and my hands between my legs when my Sun Bon Jovi came home from skool. The cub took a look at me and said "What's rong with you? Hefted?" I yelled, "Do you know there's a rat up my skirt?" The cub smirked and said "You hum it and I'll sing it". "Get the frying pan" I yelled "And batter me about the fork of my skirt". Bon Jovi was only to happy to comply with my request. Time and time again he swung the frying pan against my suppline fork. The rat began to dodge about, looking for somewhere, anywhere to hide. "Harder Bon Jovi" I yelled "The revolting rodent is biting at my drawers". "WHACK, WHACK, WHACK. Bon Jovi was beating me like a carpet. But the wily rodent, having found refuge in some of my maidenly secret nooks and crannies refused to budge. The sweat was lashing of Bon Jovi and the frying pan was deformed in the extreme, leading me to believe that it wood never fry a stoat again. "Run outside" roared Bon Jovi "And give your skirt a good shake". Taking the juviniles advice, I did just that. I stood at the door shaking my skirt like a Spanish Matador. Old Nero Ramsbum, the postman was half way up the lane when he saw me. He took wan look, jumped on his bike and went tearing back down the lane. Just when I thought the rat was going to take up abode in my nickers, it fell to the ground, ran between my legs and disappeared down a whole in the scullary. As I went off to inspect-Australia, Bon Jovi sniggered and said, "You're lucky the rat did knot claim squatters rites, it wood have taken a court order to get it out" I bristled and bridled but kept stum. I am hapy too inform all intrested, that my under-carriage is A-one and firing on all cylinders.

Later that nite, I was persusing Proust and Bon Jovi was watching the news. Suddenly the cub leaped to his feet, kicked the kat and yelled "Dammit". "What is it Sun?" I said "Has another Manchester United player jumped ship?" "Know" yelled Bon Jovi "It's yer man" "Yer man-whom?" I asked "Auld Mahmood Ahmadinejad" said Bon Jovi " he's only gone and got in again" "Is he anything too wee Bosco Ahmadadinejad from Gortin?" I said "Him with the bald head and the turn in his eye". "Know!" yelled Bon Jovi "It's auld Mahmood Ahmadinejad, the President of Iran, he only gone and got in again for another term"."What's that got too do with you?" I said "Why do you care who runs Iran?" Bon Jovi pointed too the tillie lamp and said "If auld Mahmood turns off the oil, you'll knot be sitting there with your grate big red bleezer of a face, illuminated by a tillie lamp. "Blow the tillie lamp out" I yelled "And lite a candle, to we sea what way the wee bugger jumps". "He wants nukes too" said Bon Jovi. "Let him have as many nukes as he likes" I said "As long as he has a good warm shed to keep them in and wires off a bit of ground so they can run about during the day"

Bon Jovi snorted and went to bed!, why? I have know kompreshion.