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The latest in Spike's hilarious re-interpretations of classic works of literature, now available in paperback. This version of Robin Hood has Robin and his merry men when the King's deer manage to evade their arrows, dining out at McDonald's, Kentucky Fried Chicken and eating jam sandwiches, Nevertheless, they are still more than willing to do battle with Robin's arch enemy Sir Guy de Custard Gisborne. The fair Maid Marion, of course, is the object of much of Robin's attention, and his pursuit of the beautiful Marion leads him and his men into many adventures. Lucky for him that his band of outlaws inclu de the immensely strong Big Dick and immensely insolent Groucho Marx. Paying Scant regrd to any previous versions of this age old folk tale, Spike thunders through his riotous story like a runaway horse through Sherwood.
How Can I describe my emotions at this catastrophe, or delineate the wretch whom with such infinte pains and care I had endeavoured to form? There was a bolt that affixed his neck to his spine, there were screws holding his forehead to his skull; but now was the moment of truth. I plunged the electrodes into his rectum and switched on the current. He gave a groan and he was alive! He spoke as he sat up, 'Have you got a fag mate?' My God, I had given birth to a nicotine junky! I handed him a cigarette which I lit, then leaping off the table he stood there. But, alas, we had forgotten one thing, he had no support for his trousers which fell to the floor revealing his manhood in all its glory. If any women saw them they would be leaving their husbands in thousands. Quickly I got some string round his trousers. What had I done? No mortal could support the horror of that countenance! I rushed downstairs, to seek refuge in a cupboard where I remained during the rest of the night walking up and down in great agitation, something difficult to do in a cupboard.
Next was break me to harness. First, a stiff heavy collar on my neck. Then there was a bridle with great side-pieces called blinkers against my eyes. Then there was a small saddle strap that went under my tail: that was the crapper. I hated it, it stopped me having a crap. I never felt more like kicking so I kicked him in the goolies and they swelled up like melons. He had to put the harness on me while balancing his balls with one hand and could only move very slowly. In time I got used to everything (and he got used to swollen balls) and I could do my work as well as my mother. I used to wash up after dinner. Yes, I was a very good horse.