I definitely prefer the St Valentine's celebrations - food, chocolate, love, the occasional fancified yet furtive frot - to St Bartholomew's Day, where the villagers flay me alive and and use my skin as a soggy toga.
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Art historian: "Now, stretching the definition of art to breaking point, we see a Knorg post. Notice the lack of hands, and feet? The initial theory was that Knorg was just awful at them, but it later turned out he'd gotten into debt with the Bean family."
Oh, absolutely, the problem is that down in the village they're traditionalists. They claim the toga thing goes back to Roman times, although a historian from up the city says the earliest records date to 2009 when Lily the Knorg Flayer moved in and found her true calling.
oh good i was worried you had undervalued your versatility. your skin could be a shower curtain, parasol, painting canvas, the list goes on. but if this is a Lily thing then i completely understand.
Then I feel even more blessed to have been called that! I would be Paul Hollywood’s valentine anytime (other than Valentine’s Day, that’s reserved for me wife. Sorry Paul.)
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