Day Eighteen: Give It A Rest

Right,  I’m really tired, so they’ll be no introduction.  But fittingly, today’s puns will be about sleep:

I was running late for uni this morning and, having got teddy in about ten minutes, ran out in sheets of rain to get to my seminar on time.  I didn’t duvet-ry well at looking dignified, and somebody in som nia car yelled something insulting, which was a bit pillow the belt.  Although it wasn’t that bed, I couldn’t help thinking about it all through my seminar, though it did stop me banging my head, board, against the wall as I usually do.  The session went quilt quickly, and though I’m nosnoreious for talking too much, I didn’t have to say a lot, just read four posters about King Lears somniloquy which I could do almost unconsciously.  It dozen’t get much easier than that, though I can’t now remember what any of them said.


The other night, Sir Lancelot had a really bad dream about a horse.

It was a knight mare. 


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