"Mordioux! There goes leBlanc arm-in-arm with the last bottle of the Spanish liquor, and accompanied by a prodigious wedge of fromage! So he and his crony Robierre conspire to parch my throat as well as ensuring my name keeps out of the despatches, in spite of all my triumphs." A rider on a black horse, trailing his own personal thundercloud, takes the road towards Paris.
- Fwd: BANANA: Some last business at the front cerebral
- Tim Meyen
