I have so little sex appeal that my gynecologist calls me "sir."
No matter how much makeup I wore, people just kept saying "Yes, sir! Would you like tea with that, sir?" "Yes, I would like tea. Why don't you put it on my breasts?" "Certainly. Tea for this man's breasts! Anything else, sir?"
Eight, sir; seven, sir;
Six, sir; five, sir;
Four, sir; Three, sir;
Two, sir; one!
Tenser, said the Tensor.
Tenser, said the Tensor.
Tension, apprehension,
And dissension have begun.
Thank you, sir, but I am perfectly content being the bride of death.
I must admit, sir, that I have modified the verses a little, to allow for the new things I have learned, so I am an unreliable source of truth, sir, save in its most fundamental sense. Like a majority of poets, sir.
"It is you, sir?" "Sergeant Barret, isn't it?" "Yes, sir." "It is me" They bloody hung you, sir." "This army can't do anything right, Sergeant."
No, sir. Go to hell sir. It's the best I can do for you sir.
"Why do they call them vaulters?" "Vaulters?" "Voltigeur, Sharpe. French for vaulter." "God knows, sir." "Because the jump like fleas, sir, when you shoot at them. But don't worry yourself about that one, sir. He's a good voltigeur, that one. He's dead."
I will take my hands off Medicare when there is no Medicare, then I will come and see you sir.
Thank you, good sir, I owe you one.