Gina, dear, dear Gina…when I was but a child, there was a fox by the name of Basil…Basil the fox…phneuhhh…
Ooooo yesss, Lord Chwissie…A weal fox…a weal one with a bwight bushy tail???
Ohh Gina, dear, dear Gina…Basil Bwush was in some wespects a figment…
Ooooo yesss, Lord Chwissie…a…a…a figmented fox?
Gina, dear, dear Gina, where was I…where are we now…right…Basil the fox had a catchcry, a cathcry of “Boom, Boom!”
Ooooo yesss, Lord Chwissie…a cwy of…of a jolly big “Boooom”! I like mine, though. I like my boom.
Gina, dear, dear Gina. Indeed, I like it too. I weally, weally like your boom.
Hahhhh! D’you know what, d’you know what, Lord Chwissie…? The latte dwinking lefty masses who don’t like my boom…the latte dwinking lefty masses in Western Austwaylia just have to live with my boom too…Hahahhh, they now pay an average of awound 60-80% of their do-gooder weekly scwaypings to keep a woof over their heads…Hahahhhh!!
Gina, dear, dear Gina. Thet’s maaarvelous news. Survival of…survival of…
Survival of…survival of…the FATTEST!
Boom, Boom.
the interpretOr 