The Kilkenny Coition Company pulled up stock and relocated to Stockton Warwickshire, with franchises in North Hampton Ohio, Mountain View California, Blagoevgrad Bulgaria, Brisbane Queensland Australasia, Monterrey Nuevo Leon Mexico, Trenton New Jersey and Peking Beijing. The Kilkenny Coition Company were the sole providers of lambskin condoms, ointments, salves, aspics, jellies, jams, honeyed mustards, tinned meats, a variety of homecare products, silky soft diaphragms, inter-uterine clips fashioned from copper and brass, tureens, pot-boilers, ivory-handled ladles, poultices (for sores and chaffing) gun powder in a variety of colours and hues and lubricants, all of which were packaged together, offering a rather festive coitus curio. The Witness carried advertisements for The Kilkenny Coition Company in the back pages of his pamphlets, many of which ended up in the ivory soft hands of the Pune Sisters of the Pune Sisters Nunnery in Maharashtra.
The Sisters of the Pune Nunnery sold prayer-cloths from the back pages of the Klamath Falls Chronicle, Oregon. The sisters tatted and stitched the prayer-cloths in a makeshift seamstresses’ room in the topmost attic of the Nunnery. The man in the hat knew one of the sister, sister Marion, who drew great praise from the other sisters for her steadfast devotion to prayer and seamstressing. The Presbyterian barker thumbed through the Klamath Falls Chronicle, eyes straining to read the small smaller smallest print. He was in the market for a prayer-cloth, a gift for his wife on her 27th birthday. He’d overheard that the Sisters of the Pune Nunnery made exceptional prayer-cloths, and as he would settle for nothing less than exceptional, decided on one of the sisters’ Saintly cloths. Author’s aside, please slam the screen door on you’re way out, thank you in advance for you’re Saintly dun.
The Sisters of the Pune Nunnery sold prayer-cloths from the back pages of the Klamath Falls Chronicle, Oregon. The sisters tatted and stitched the prayer-cloths in a makeshift seamstresses’ room in the topmost attic of the Nunnery. The man in the hat knew one of the sister, sister Marion, who drew great praise from the other sisters for her steadfast devotion to prayer and seamstressing. The Presbyterian barker thumbed through the Klamath Falls Chronicle, eyes straining to read the small smaller smallest print. He was in the market for a prayer-cloth, a gift for his wife on her 27th birthday. He’d overheard that the Sisters of the Pune Nunnery made exceptional prayer-cloths, and as he would settle for nothing less than exceptional, decided on one of the sisters’ Saintly cloths. Author’s aside, please slam the screen door on you’re way out, thank you in advance for you’re Saintly dun.
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