I have no enemies.Those who were my enemies are licking their wounds and whimp miserably. They won’t ever show up again, I’m telling you.
I’m not some kind of sniveling cub in a pale-yellow frock coat.Look at me: I wear black. It’s a family color and my father never gave up wearing it through all his life.
A lot of brazen mongrels have sprung up lately.They don’t neither honor traditions nor heed wisdom of older generations, and act like they know life inside out altogether.
I’m from France,my family lived in Marseille. When dad died in a street fight, we were forced to move to Britain. I consider myself a Frenchman by blood and an Englishman by spirit.
Muddy streets of London are just killing me.In such weather we often say: It’s not fit for a dog to take his owner out tonight.
It’s a dog heaven to meto taste a local cuisine while visiting another country. I am quite a food snob, you know.
We are all animalsand primitive savages in the world of stones and steel.
I have a strong head for business,which is the envy of all business sharks. I’ll always find the way to benefit from any given situation.
I love women,but I appreciate even more, when they accept your nature of the beast and don’t resist it.
Skin and bone girls — are not my cup of tea.I like sporty and athletic girls that match me. The sight of sick greyhounds makes me howl, I mean it.
There are those who are all earsand those who don’t hear the penny drop. That’s it.
They say I’m stubborn.But here’s what I say: you can move the mountains going ahead with patience, so there!
Children pointed fingers at me in the streets,but I’m used to it and don’t hold any grudge against them. And how can you be angry with children, sir?
In youth, we all wannabreak our rusty cages. But after taking a closer look you realize that the only cage there is in your soul.
Probably, I’m thick-skinnedas troubles don’t bother me. Life itself taught me to endure misfortune.
In dreams I see myselfon a large ship sailing the ocean and the sand coast is left somewhere far away. Was that for real or not? One can hardly remember now.
Bad thoughts pass away,when you have something to busy the hands with. Gloom comes from idleness.
By Jesus, some misses wear their garmentslike a cow wears a saddle — but I am very fond of dressing up! I feel like a real peeress at the ball.
I’m not the person to play around with.Just try and you’ll learn firstpaw what hell feels like.
Wake up earlier,smile to the day and be off for work. Mother Nature doesn’t fancy lazybones.
The rhythm beats in my veins.Though I look like an old bag, but believe me dearie, I give such a hell in our parish, so Good Lord forgive me!
According to the First Amendment to the United States Catstitution,you can stroke my hair the wrong way, only if you pay extra.
Gentlemen, you should understand that promiscuity has nothing to do with promises of love,but it helps to earn bread.
My favorite proverb is:’Always cast a clout till May be out’.
Although I have a side job at the port,it doesn’t mean that I’m a blue catfish.
Many overlook the apparent fact:a true specialist working in the world’s oldest profession must have no less than 7 lives.
Scratch money in your pocket firstand only then you’re welcome to scratch my neck.
A black catis bad luck. I’ve heard they are not welcome in well-bred society.
If you wonna play, even a bat crumpled paper on sting will suit.It’s the one with a president’s profile on it.
What are the others recipes for success?The main rule is always the same: never cast down!
Puritan morality is like a furball:everyone wants to hawk it at you.
Babe, you can polish my Colt,but remember I do laundry, not girls.
After a good hassle there is nothing betterthen rinse a mouth with tried-and-true bourbon.
Quick paws aren’t for tricky thievery:Racoon God made us the best gunslingers in the Wild West.
Someday I’ll set up a small breweryto make the most boisterous ale there. I’ll call it The Powder Laundry.
What do I say to Bad Boys?If you don’t bring down your gun till I count three, I’ll wring out everything up to underwear!
Do you say there are no more guns in the valley?This is my handiwork.
One day I’ll hang up my hat on the wall,give up adventures and marry a woman. But she will be anything but laundress.
In the years ahead we’ll make up more powerful gunsand fly away to the Moon. I’m a Coon not a tree and I also have dreams!
The recipe of my success in the Wild Westhas nothing to do with Indians practice not to eat coons.
Style is like my snout:it’s the most elegant way to express the complexity.
Do you see nose-candy on my snout?Well, if you do, it’s the purest, first-grade nose-candy.
Fashion evolves over time, but the clothes remain the same.Even if you have nothing to wear except the tail hook.
Scruffy boars aren’t my type:a decent pigsexual takes care of his bristle from the tender hooves.
Boarnye West?That flatulent mediocrity acts as if he came up from a wrong pigpen.
You can build a decent pigpenonly with the back door wide open.
I’ll call my next collectionBaked Pork Knuckle.
Sex and parties — are the best momentsto let your little inner piggie out.
What do I think of Warhol?There surely is no ham in Campbell’s Soup Cans of that dull scavenger.
Modern pop-artis the place where the real beastliness is!
While acorns are in the strong trend for dullards,I’ll always find where to dig out a truffle.
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