It will be The Mother of All Flounces, Flouncegeddon, Der Flaunzkrieg, and on and on. There will be no simpering, no toadying and no cravening. And especially, there will be no return.
When (and if!) I ever flounce out of here...
(8 posts) (7 voices)
Uber flounce? Bliz flounce? (why does german sound so right for this kind of thing?) The mother of all flounces would sound good shouted in an angry way in Arabic.
A flounce that then ends with the flouncer (flouncie?) returning could be der toten flounce.
Over the last couple of years there have been many flounces that were later attributed to the consumption of too much alchohol. So far , I make it 16 fluid flounces.
How does that convert to metric?
Take away the number you first thought of and multiply by....no that's not right.First think of a number then add 2 tries and a conversion...no that's not it either. Fuck it I give up. Where's Oxbridge when you need him ?
2 huffs = 1 strop
2 strops = 1 flounce
1 flounce = usually back within 5 mins
Now Saltire needs me - that's all I feckin' need...
Still, there must be a way of getting stroppers away from their desks more frequently, even though there doesn't appear to be any means of providing a Life where pleasing and varied activities are not on offer. A bit of exercise, bit of fresh air, early to bed, that sort of thing.
How about appointments with wraiths in the Hebrides or Orkneys, errands for the purchase of skyhooks and so forth? Any ideas?
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