Pip Pip, Tally Ho and Fanny’s your uncle, what? It’s like Lycaon of Arcadia in reverse. I was canine and now I am man again. Slightly portlier than I remember, more of me to go around, what, what? Cured from our curse by the pillowy lips of a beauty so enrapturing it would engorge the marble effigy of David himself. She stumbled across me and the Bellows buffoon avoiding the hunting hounds in the thickets. We awoke in thye hearth of her fire this morning naked as jaybirds. I preferred the labourer as a dog. Suited his demeanour. Anyhoo, opposable thumbs, the almighty’s sanction that man was made to use a cork screw, what? Toodle pip Fairy folk, you shabby bohemian layabouts. May I never clap eyes on the like of it again.  #dream40
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