From Uncyclopedia, the content-free encyclopedia
Andrew Lloyd Webber sat even further forward in his seat. His eyes grew wider, much wider than usual. "Moh?! How can you possibly ask for moh? I've given yah everything that I have to give! Yah've got the fame and fortune, yah've got a place on t'West End stage, you've got your own private dressing room stocked wi' food and prostitutes and you ask for moh?"
Oliver considered what the lord had just said to him. There was the fame, the acting job, the prostitutes, but Oliver was still hungry. Surely, someone somewhere in this television studio had some gruel. Oh how Oliver longed for the sweet succulent lumpy goodness of gruel.
"Please lord," said Oliver, "Can I have some moh?"
Testing the patience of the lord was a mistake. One sideways glance later and a pair of Nancys dragged Oliver out of the studio. The British public would never get to vote for him again.