You and your pussycat nose

Okay, where’s the fight? I’m ready to kick some ass! I’ve got my Wales flags comin’ out BOTH my ears, I’m daintily holding my sword, and I can’t see for shit. Bring ‘em on! Wait a tic…why am I in a souvenir shop? There ain’t any Romans here…

Daughter: Mommy!
Mom: Don’t worry, it’s only a picture of Tom Jones, not actually Tom Jones.
Daughter: His tight pants scare me!
Mom: I know, dear. I know.
Edith: I love your skirt, Gertrude.
Gertrude: Oh thanks, deary. I got it at the Oxfam shop up the street. Only cost me two quid. Are those new pants you’re wearing?
Edith: No, they’re old. But I pulled them up a little bit higher today for the Prince’s parade. Louise, why don’t you stand up straight?
Louise: I am standing up straight! What do you want from a little old lady who has no neck? Ooh, ooh! Here he comes, here he comes!
Gertrude: That Prince Harry is so fine, I tell you. Maybe if he looks this way as he passes by he’ll notice my skirt and give me a hug.
Louise: Bollocks! If he’s going to notice anyone, it’s going to be me. Just look at how many jackets I’m wearing!
Edith: My dentures are too big for my mouth and my face is stuck in a perpetual smile. I’m in pain.

Check it out, it’s the actual magazine! (Okay, maybe I’m a little obsessed with Notting Hill.)

This was an actual book (as opposed to a hologram or something) I found at one of the antique stores in the Cotswolds. I didn’t peruse through it so I can’t elaborate on the kinds of food a hungry monk would eat, but if I had to guess, I’d say Doritos, Twinkies, and Hot Pockets.