The inflatable sheep, now fully errect after the , Ahem, Blow job bounces up to the bar :-

" A pint of Olde Sheep Dip for myself, and 15 gallons of Brains S.A. for my butties in the Aberflyhalf RFC, oh yes and a sprinkling of of termites for my friend the duck, yes the one wot is imitating the hedgehog on the motorway. "

Mmario points out that pressed duck is supposed to be a delicacy.

"Only 15 gallons 'Ewe", exclaim the RFC, "We brought along the linesman and Moira the Rugby Groupy as well !".

"OK then", bleats the inflatable Sheep, " make it 17 gallons, and be sure they are imperial measure not American !"

The bar goes quiet, 17 imp' gallons, well thats 136 imperial pints, it takes a long time to pull, even in a virtual Tavern.

"Now lads !", the sheep explains, "Lets have a good old South Welsh Song, and I'll bleat the time !!"

And Moira, the Rugby Groupy {She likes men who play with odd shaped balls} leads off with that old classic

(Moira)If I, Sir, was the marrying kind,
(Omnes) And thank the Lord your not Ma'am !
(M)The type of man that I would wed,
Would be a Mudcat poster !
(Omnes) For he'd log in, and he'd log out,
And we would both log in together,
We'd be alright in the middle of the night,
Logging in together !!"

This continues for several hundred more verses - No wonder they need 8 pints of S.A. a head to continue singing.

Surprisingly the Morris men are silent, possibly contemplating the sheep surrounding the Brown Jug at Upchurch, and the Ship Ashore at Hollow Shore. And the fact that the Sea Wall at Hollow Shore don't allow the woolleybacks any roon to run away!!.

Gareth