My family have been living in the newsssssroom of The Bunnington Posssssst for generationsssss. When we heard the property wassssss for ssssssale last year we were beyond oursssssselvesssss with worry. Mum and my 39 ssssssiblingssssss were utterly convinced that our habitat would be cleanssssssed of all that issssss worth living for: the garden pesssssssstssssss that feed our food. We do like a juicy toad or toadlet once every ssssssso often, you sssssssee.
Sssssssick with the ssssssstresssssssss of it all, mum developed a drinking problem, which led to the authoritiessssssss getting involved and her being threatened with having usssssss all taken into care.
Thankfully your inadequate waitresssssss has a ssssssmorgassssssbord of insssssectsssss including midgessss, fliessssss and ssssix typesssss of aphidsssss infesssssstationsssssss in her gardenssssss that keep our beloved frogssssss, toadssssss and tadpolesssssss well-fed and ssssssimply irrisssssissstible to ussssss grassssss ssssssnakessssss. The newssssssroom remains a feassssssst for the ssssenssssssessss! We now all happily commute from the nearby pond to our dining room daily.
Having met your waitressssssss in perssssssson now too we have sssssssseen and ssssssmelled for oursssssselvessssss that sssssshe is indeed charmingly harmlesssssss if ssssssomewhat accommodating towardssssss the ever-present pack of paparazzi. At leasssssst they caught my good sssssside as I went about my perssssssonal businesssssss yessssssterday.
Gerd the Garden Hose
(P.SSSSSSS. why doesssss your waitresssss call me Gerrit de Tuinsssssslang?)