My servant Jew bruited to me the happening that my services has been rendered tranfert to the Bengali Tygers of Cincinnatus. Fortune smiles again on the sons and daughters of Eireland! Aye but, my job is to replace that of the headstrong Ryan of the Fitzpatrick clan. Press on, son. Your merit is to be seen in this coil or the next.
Cincinnatus is a place not much in accordance with Spanish St. Francis. For one, they eat a vraiment so named chili, for reasons not in evidence, that includes neither potato nor grog. Odd, though pleasing. In this conurbation, there exists very few stations for a man to make his living. Quarteredbacking, after all, is the prize of the privileged few. Ack! Careful O’Sullivan, lest you be stricken with the vainglory. Their plight of penury means only more time to skepticize my quarteredbacking. I shall not fail them.
Happenstance does smile upon me as I report that, compared to Spanish St. Francis, intrusions into my rectum in the main are at a lower frequency. This does well for my overall disposition. With the good, do come the not good, as I say wretched remains the state of my new squadron of fellow footballers. The quarteredbacker ahead of my-self on the depth chart has been laid low with afflictions of every type, including the dreaded cleft shuttledick. While this creates promise for the Dispenser of Haymakers, it concerns me to the constitution of these footballers. As the father said, the Weak of Constitution Are Bound For The Outcome Of Least Desire. Words that will very likely never escape me.
Months remain to get the haymakers to their greatest potency for new opponents. But now a wild-eyed receiver attempts to gain my attention. What does he say? He raves manically of car boats. If only his genius could be used for good…