And as I was picking me teeth out of the gutter St Peter hisself appeared to me and said, "Sean, you wanker" he said.
"Repent yer evil ways or sod off". The he gobbed in me face and turned back into a lampost.
Tired Freudian references aside - your mother played my mighty skin flute like a surf crowned sea nymph trying to rouse Poseidon from his watery slumber!
I'm not a large water-dwelling mammal Where did you get that preposterous hypothesis? Did Steve