Blond triplets in full drag.

"Get me up!" I croaked, so that the Frog would understand just what it was I wanted.
"I'm afraid" he croaked back.
"Don't be afraid darling, i's only a graze. My tennis may be a little off for a week or two but we can still go out." I interjected from between two jects.
"I'm afraid that the telephone is out of action, you portly, potential paraplegic! It was crushed under the antlers during the apple falling incident." He offered.
I declined only having recently managed to quit. "Use your cell phone!" I ribbeted on old French.
"Eh?" queried my trusty sidekick in fluent modern English.
"I was talking to the toad, man." I explained to my trusty sidekick.
He kicked me in the side and left the scene the same way he had entered, pointlessly.
"Use your cell phone!" I reribbeted in a recent romanesque dialect.
And the telephone rang, it was the police station.
"Hello, hello, hello!" chorused three unclear voices. "Thees ees the local nick," offered the least muffled of the three, "Excuse the lack of clarity but it is hot here and the glue on our special pleece issue moustaches isn't adapted for outdoor use. We believe we have a French mess in one of our cells, a fat orange chap, rabbiting on about a phone. We picked him up after he aroused our suspicions."
At this point here was a pause I was convinced that there was a distinct triple moan from the other end of the phone. Walking to the other end of the phone I stumbled over three piles of oozing fat.
"Oi! Watch it you great multi-bellied mug!" belched the smaller of the piles, lurching up from the floor. It was the frog.
"I thought you were in the nick!" I blurted
"I was." he blunted.
"But how come you're here and not there?" I bleated.
"It's not there any more." he bloated
"How come?" I blurted again for sheere lack of verbs.
"I nicked it!" replied the even less imaginative, tangerine toned, Gallic henchman.
Somewhere in the distance a door slammed, a dog barked, a tumble weed, a wolf whistled and a tortoise headed of into the bushes.