Oh my! What's all this then~?
Salutations, my lovelies! I hope I find you all well on this most magical evening! I trust you have been all taking care of yourself while I've been away? Regardless, my goodness! It has been one full year since I saw you last! Oh dear me, and I see that you would all do well with my assistance once more! Normally I would be more reluctant to perform on such short notice, but for you lot I shall make a special exception! Just give me a moment to spruce up and I'll--"
Honestly, if it's a performance you want then I don't think you want to go to les sourcils, unless you actually wanted a demonstration on the latest tea set in stores. What I think he means to say is that a much more capable hand will now partake in the show of your lives.
W-what?!
Wait, no--
What. You. Here. In that.
It's much better than whatever rags you're wearing.
What I'm wearing--
No. What...in the bloody fucaaah--...oh. Erm. What I mean to say.
Dearest...lecherous frog.
What on earth are you doing here?
Oh, moi? No real reason. Just...
To ease the pain felt by your overwhelming incompetence, or so to say "pick up the slack." Because we all know how this went the last time you were here.
It went perfectly well, thank you.
In fact it was--
A total bomb, bushy.
I COULD DO BETTER IN MY SLEEP.
...
Oh no.
No.
Not you too.
I refuse.
Aww don't be like that. You're just worried I'm gonna out-wish-grant you.
Which I am.
It seems that your...reputation precedes yourself, sourcils, seeing as the buffoon has made a visit.
Oh yes. Because I have so much faith in a chap in nothing but his undergarments...
And one without-- Dear heavens, my eyes.
...
Are you-
Naked?
whoawhoawhoawhoawhoa.
Duuude, put some clothes on, no one wishes to see that.
Except maybe Artie.
But y'know.
Don't ask don't tell.
Firstly, that is disgusting. And next, you're obviously missing the strategically placed floral arrangement.
How about don't presume, don't be an idiot!?
I wish to neither see you in your garish undergarments nor him with his baboon chest and flabby...everything!
Naw that's boring. You two just need to step aside because I'M going to be the best wish granter ever! I know what people need, I was BORN to do this!
You were born and then promptly dropped on your head.
Better than being dropped on the dick by the looks of you. That all fit behind a barely bloomed blossom there, Frenchie?
For christ's sake!
The two of you!
OUT.
NOW.
This is my territory!
Not yours!
I did this on my own last year and I certainly don't need your "assistance" now!
Do your eyebrows become bigger when you tell lies?
You know what? Fine! Let's settle this like men.
I don't see any.
Says the man in the dress.
Oh wait-
DAMMIT.
Says the Brit in the dress.
There.
Amended statement.
Oh yes, brilliant save.
How do you propose, then, that we settle this like men and...dress-wearing person of questionable identity?
TOGA. How many times do I have to say--?!
Semantics.
How about we all divvy up 'em wishes and grant 'em and whoever does the best is the best wish granter!
Simple as apple pie!
Hmm. You know that sounds...
Like an amazing fucking plan?
I know.
Idiotic, actually.
Everyone knows that I will reign supreme.
Supremely inept at your job, you mean.
--After all, I do have the experience!
And the clothes.
While certain parties have neither.
I didn't realise that a dress was a prerequisite to wish granting!
Arthur's just getting in character!
He's like a fairy godmother!
Granting wishes to princesses!
In hopes one day he will be the prettiest fairy of them ~all~
Mirror mirror on the wall?
Who's the bushiest of them all?
...
I am not even going to dignify such a moronic display with a reply.
We all know this isn't a dress.
So I refuse to be baited by your mocking.
Especially by someone who only requires flora to cover vital parts.
And another who looks like he's a wee lad in his jimjams.
Both of which I'll decidedly demolish in this match.
You picked the wrong angel to mess about with, mates.
The game is afoot!
Questions? Go here.
Honestly, if it's a performance you want then I don't think you want to go to les sourcils, unless you actually wanted a demonstration on the latest tea set in stores. What I think he means to say is that a much more capable hand will now partake in the show of your lives.
W-what?!
Wait, no--
What. You. Here. In that.
It's much better than whatever rags you're wearing.
What I'm wearing--
No. What...in the bloody fucaaah--...oh. Erm. What I mean to say.
Dearest...lecherous frog.
What on earth are you doing here?
Oh, moi? No real reason. Just...
To ease the pain felt by your overwhelming incompetence, or so to say "pick up the slack." Because we all know how this went the last time you were here.
It went perfectly well, thank you.
In fact it was--
A total bomb, bushy.
I COULD DO BETTER IN MY SLEEP.
...
Oh no.
No.
Not you too.
I refuse.
Aww don't be like that. You're just worried I'm gonna out-wish-grant you.
Which I am.
It seems that your...reputation precedes yourself, sourcils, seeing as the buffoon has made a visit.
Oh yes. Because I have so much faith in a chap in nothing but his undergarments...
And one without-- Dear heavens, my eyes.
...
Are you-
Naked?
whoawhoawhoawhoawhoa.
Duuude, put some clothes on, no one wishes to see that.
Except maybe Artie.
But y'know.
Don't ask don't tell.
Firstly, that is disgusting. And next, you're obviously missing the strategically placed floral arrangement.
How about don't presume, don't be an idiot!?
I wish to neither see you in your garish undergarments nor him with his baboon chest and flabby...everything!
Naw that's boring. You two just need to step aside because I'M going to be the best wish granter ever! I know what people need, I was BORN to do this!
You were born and then promptly dropped on your head.
Better than being dropped on the dick by the looks of you. That all fit behind a barely bloomed blossom there, Frenchie?
For christ's sake!
The two of you!
OUT.
NOW.
This is my territory!
Not yours!
I did this on my own last year and I certainly don't need your "assistance" now!
Do your eyebrows become bigger when you tell lies?
You know what? Fine! Let's settle this like men.
I don't see any.
Says the man in the dress.
Oh wait-
DAMMIT.
Says the Brit in the dress.
There.
Amended statement.
Oh yes, brilliant save.
How do you propose, then, that we settle this like men and...dress-wearing person of questionable identity?
TOGA. How many times do I have to say--?!
Semantics.
How about we all divvy up 'em wishes and grant 'em and whoever does the best is the best wish granter!
Simple as apple pie!
Hmm. You know that sounds...
Like an amazing fucking plan?
I know.
Idiotic, actually.
Everyone knows that I will reign supreme.
Supremely inept at your job, you mean.
--After all, I do have the experience!
And the clothes.
While certain parties have neither.
I didn't realise that a dress was a prerequisite to wish granting!
Arthur's just getting in character!
He's like a fairy godmother!
Granting wishes to princesses!
In hopes one day he will be the prettiest fairy of them ~all~
Mirror mirror on the wall?
Who's the bushiest of them all?
...
I am not even going to dignify such a moronic display with a reply.
We all know this isn't a dress.
So I refuse to be baited by your mocking.
Especially by someone who only requires flora to cover vital parts.
And another who looks like he's a wee lad in his jimjams.
Both of which I'll decidedly demolish in this match.
You picked the wrong angel to mess about with, mates.
The game is afoot!
Questions? Go here.