Personally, it's always bothered me that one little piggy had roast beef while the other had none, and the fact that none is supposed to rhyme with home. It doesn't. Name the other pig Guillaume and be done with it, or Jerome perhaps, send him to yoga to om, give him a dish rich with truffles and loam, in his back pocket a black plastic comb, have him reside in a pied-à-terre at La Place Vendôme, or Rome. Shalom. But none? Yeah--uh, no. (Don't even get me started on the travesty that is Dora rhyming with Explorer. Bish, plz.)Not my foot.
No matter--I've always hated roast beef anyway. Today I have some toes to tickle, so it's Wee! Wee! Wee! All the way home for me.
The Petunia Faced Girls