Tuesday, September 15, 2009

"I'm going to butter him up see, tell him that Rogerson's Bicycle Tyres are made from the smoothest Panama rubber and that if he complies with our little request we'd be more than happy to sponsor him in the upcoming tournament. He just has to eat the mustard. Has to get a good coal miner's handful and smash it up into his gums. Hoo Mabel, I need to see him eat that mustard with those big muscular hands! I want to see him cough and gurgle on the vinegary heat, yes, to see those athletic cheeks rosy up in playful agony. I want him to say "was that enough?" and then to tell him to keep shoveling the brown, keep ingesting that filth you filthy, filthy man! Mustard man, mustard man! That's what I'll holler! And he'll say "is this how you usually conduct business?" and I'll tell him it's the only way. Nothing says speed and determination like a man that can suck back repeated gobfulls of Keens English. It builds character. Makes a man a man. Beasts don't eat mustard - you can bet your bottom dollar on that sir! And once he finishes that mustard I'm going to kiss him on his big blistered lips and ask him to marry me! Ha!"

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