Klown, my little possum, open that tough little clenched angry...

Klown, my little possum, open that tough little clenched angry fist that you wave to one and sundry and reach down to that tiny little crotch. Yes, it's damp. And yes, we all understand that it was just a little accident brought about by fear.
But don't be scared my tiny little one.
We'll help you when the war breaks out.
That's the Ozzie way. We help the poor. We help the weak. We place cold cloths on their sweaty foreheads.
And above all, we never, ever tell them that they are gutless useless pieces of garbage.
We abide by the old addage that " the weak shall inherit the World and will not know what to do with it!"

nq...no go back to sleep my little crumpet. It was all just a bad dream.