I think I love Becky and her stickman.
Greetings to you all, most splendid listeners! I have acquired a few more of you since my last post on being cheerful had the glorious fortune to be Freshly Pressed; and, as the majority of you are either from my own humble Englandland or from across the pond in Americaland, I shall say hello in both languages:
English: Good day to you, my old chums! Salutations and hello there!
American: Yo, bud! Waassuuuuuuup??? Hey y’all, how YOU doin’???
If you excellent Americans have gleaned from the above that we English think you actually talk like that all the time and that you are a nation of Budweiser-swigging, gangsta-Paula Deen-Joey-from-Friends incarnations, then you are sadly correct.
You see, we in Englandland just can’t grasp your language. Yes we know it’s essentially the same language as ours, but there are such monumental differences, my American pals, such crucial and paramount disparities that we just…
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