Stomach: Morning, guys.
Liver: Wstfgl.
Brain: Aargh. Is it morning already??
Stomach: I'm hungry.
Brain: Okay, hang on a sec.
Bladder: Hey, legs! I'm a bit full, any chance of a quick toilet trip?
Right leg: Sure. I need a stretch, anyway. Come on, Lefty.
Left leg: No. Aargh. Lefty want more sleep. SLEEEEP.
Liver: Stop shouting, you guys, I'm in pain.
Pancreas: Me too.
Bladder: Well if Lefty will sort himself out, I won't need to shout, okay?
Left leg: Lefty sorry. Lefty move now.
Intracranial membrane: Slowly please, guys, I'm not too comfy either.
Inner ears: We don't feel good.
Stomach: Will you lot shut up and get Bladder to the bathroom so I can get something to eat?
Right leg: Relax, mate. Here we go.
Hands: All clear, chaps...
Penis: That tickles.
Bladder: AAAAAHHHHH. Much better.
Stomach: Right, now can I please get some food?
Brain: Whaddaya want, for crying out loud?
Stomach: A nice big fry-up sounds about right.
Liver: Aw, bloody hell.
Arteries: No, dude, we're clogged enough as it is! Give us a break, will you?
Stomach: It's Brain's fault. He thought that bottle of single malt looked soooo inviting, didn't he?
Brain: Why do you guys always pick on me?
Pancreas: Well you're in charge, who else are we gonna blame?
Brain: Shut up.
Left leg: Lefty sleep now?
Right leg: No.
Stomach: I'm fucking HUNGRY.
Brain + Liver + Pancreas: OKAY, DAMN IT.
Inner ears: Why is the room wobbling?
Brain: Legs - to the kitchen, please.
Right leg: Right. Quick, march!
Eyes: WATCH THE STAIRS!!!
Left leg: Lefty slipped. Lefty ouch.
Right leg: Sorry about that, guys.
Bum: That bloody hurt.
Brain: Okay, let's rustle something up, team.
Hands: Found some toast, Stomach, will that do?
Stomach: Better than nothing, I suppose. Why can't I have that fry-up though?
Arteries: Oh for Pete's sake...
Stomach: Fine, fine, toast it is.
Hands: Here's some jam.
Eyes: That jam looks dodgy.
Stomach: I gotta eat something.
Brain: Just try the jam, will you?
Eyes: Fine. Just don't say we didn't warn you.
Hands: Chocks away...
Mouth: Awumrmrmrmrmrm.
Tongue: That tasted weird.
Eyes: What's that green stuff in the jar?
Brain: Aw, shit.
Stomach: I don't feel so hot.
Inner ears: Okay, now the room is really wobbling.
Pancreas: Now look what you've done, Brain.
Brain: How is this my fault???
Stomach: AAAUUUWWWWWRRRRRGGGHHHH!!!
Left leg: Lefty feel warm.
Nose: Nobody ever thinks about my feelings. It's so terribly, terribly depressing.

Companies who use annoying spelling for eye-catching purposes. The ubiquitous "Kwik-Save" supermarket chain, the tyre specialists "Kwik-Fit", the pub franchise "Brewer's Fayre", and countless others are guilty of this beyond-heinous linguistic tomfoolery. On what basis do they believe it will entice us to use their services rather than a competitor's? Personally, I prefer to buy my tyres, pub meals and frozen peas from intelligent people who know how to use a spell-checker. "Phones-4-U", for fuck's sake. Perhaps they should invest in a dictionary, instead of in those equally annoying TV adverts with the bizarre hand-movements which look like the bloke is having an attack of St. Vitus' Dance or attempting the Freemason's Salute.

And while I'm at it, what's with using the word "fayre" to advertise food? It's an archaic spelling of "fair", meaning "public gathering for entertainment and display of goods", not of "fare", meaning "things to eat". And yet we see innumerable pubs proudly displaying their ignorance on roadside chalkboards with such advertising gems as "Holesome Country Fayre" [sic]. People who use this device are obviously trying to shoehorn an old-fashioned affectation into use in an attempt to associate their produce with the (w)holesome values of yesteryear. Never mind the fact that the sort of food that would actually have been served in pubs when the word "fayre" was in use (for fairs, idiots) would, most likely, have been infested with several interesting species of weevil. Hey, extra protein.