Extracts from the plague diary of Mark ne-Francois-Pepys
April 9th
Up and by agreement, chirping merry with Susanna Reid on Skype to ask how her morning victual of Sugar Puffs made with Monster was, and she said delicious and thanked me for the tip-off,
1/11
April 9th
Up and by agreement, chirping merry with Susanna Reid on Skype to ask how her morning victual of Sugar Puffs made with Monster was, and she said delicious and thanked me for the tip-off,
1/11
and I asked if in return she could ask Piers Morgan to stop prank-calling me pretending to be Fred Dibnah as we already know he can bring even the mightiest erections crashing down, but it is not the time to be joking about flue of any kind.
2/11
2/11
Household admin on alphabetising my books, not long because it's 30 copies of Bravo Two Zero, and intending to set to work on the novelisation of my lyfe but overwhelmed at the prospect, rang Steve Barclay Rubble instead. Learnt that a few ERG mates had done
3/11
3/11
a quiz on the Houseparty app last night but were unable to reach me to say so, which was odd as I was at nothing all the while. Lightly vexed, particularly when I heard tell of a round on Civil War musket calibres, but I did disguise this as I am a closed book and when I’d
4/11
4/11
finished smashing up my kitchen asked who had been quiz master. Barclay Rubble replied it had been the English Magnus Magnusson and I asked who that be, and he replied David Davis. Destressed in the garden by discretely spraying bleach over the hedge onto Thornberry’s plants
5/11
5/11
but Oh Lord! Widdecombe in onesie did shout from her foul outdoor sofa that I’d missed a treat with the quiz, that Archbishop of Banterbury Jonny Mercer had been matched in his Stelloquence only by the borachio Des Swayne and that it’d been a multiscreen lager saga
6/11
6/11
and a grayte highlight, after the pictures round, their encouraging of Rees-Mogg to skull a full can of Nourishment drink that he might immediately acquire six-pack, but such was the stress on his digestive transit he had an out of botty experience instead, and well,
7/11
7/11
if I didn’t have growing case of the sullens. I probed again as to my invite & she said she thought Redwood had done it, so I shouted over to his caravan and but for a pair of brown-underpants the former Welsh Secretary stood in the broken door and spake that it was grayte
8/11
8/11
mulligrubs I had not been there as Lady Quiz Truss had absolutely nailed the round on High School Musical and he thought he had sent a link and I asked if he was sure and he said that maybe Thornberry had and I exploded ‘Thornberry!’ and she emerged from her bikram bothy
9/11
9/11
and said ‘morning Marky you missed a treat last night, you’d have loved the round on the Battle of Naseby’ and such was my vexation at these Maundy Judases I suffered a flashback to my abortive stint at agricultural college when the only friend I made during threshers week
10/11
10/11
was a scarecrow, and more melancholy than when I had to take my first horse Evoque 1.5 to the pony slaystation, I went within doors, docked Hartley-Brewer two days pay for being annoying and signed onto my Sony Playstation to play Call of duty with Todd. Cornetto. Bed.
With plentiful thanks to @Will_Overman for daily bringing the National Portrait Gallery to us.
