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Sunday, 21 September 2014

In which One behaves in the manner of an acedic...

Last evening in an attempt to attone for the previous evening's gen debauchery, we snuggled down to renew a sufficiency of brain cells.
An informative televisual delight concerning the construction and purpose of SoneHenge was the order of the day.
A rake of hirsute, unwashed, hand-knitted coves blathered on 're: The moveage of Sarsen stones and other pre B & Q building materials for the construction of the aforementioned hence.
Usages various were mooted, explored and given credence by the grisly academics who preened themselves to within an inch of their miserables for the passage of an hour or so.
One spits upon their academically manufactured theories, however.
Given the historically sound and universal knowledge that the female of the species is frightfully adept at revealing a smidgen of cave-dwelling cleavage and or offering a come- hither grimace in order to spur the male into action, One would like to offer an alternative theory...
'You insisted we move to Salisbury Plain, Ug, so you could go out raping and pillaging with that brother of yours, and I can't get these sodding fur frocks dry in this flamin drizzle. What you gonna do about it? My mother said I should never have married you! That Og from number 4 had a much bigger cudgel than you. She was right I should have married him.'
One therefore offers up an alternative theory to the one about religious usage and all that sacrificial bollicks...
It seems obvious to One that Ug, following a serious thrashing from Ugzilla, alighned the gap in the stones to maximise the morning Sun on a lineful of freshly laundered stone age shreddies.
Gonads to all that human sacrifice nonsense, nothing would ever have got done if they was all sashaying about with damp ferret-fur trollies clinging round their Bronze-Age bollicks.

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