Well!, well ! you peasant bastards, here I am again to fill your bleeding-boring lives with some royal merriment!
Bet you thought I was going to croak it when my aristocratic bloody pump threw a right royal wobbler?
It doesn't work like that when you're as rich as me and my missus - we just get some bugger who's dying and take their organs when ours conk out.
Anyway, enough of the pleasantries - I'm really brassed-off because my bloody green and pleasant land is going to be invaded by all kind of puffs and foreigners due to the bloody Olympics.
It'll be bloody foreign this and bloody foreign that when the bastards win all our gold medals.
Once upon a time we used to send in the gun-boats to sort the foreign bastards out but now we have to kiss their foreign backsides.
Well, thats all for now - the wife ...