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Post by Ricky T Outhouse on Mar 24, 2010 17:11:29 GMT
a baksheesh vendor, several hundred yards of couscous drying in the mid morning sun, a harum scarum machine and a yashmak factory. This upset the local sheik considerably, who ordered that the said offending lighter should be loaded on the cook's donkey and taken back to the Albert Dock immediately. This was a very uneducated sheik, who did not know that the Albert Dock was pulled down during the 80,s and is now where the London yuppies park their narrowboats (sorry...weekend, waterborne, kosykumfort recreational and posturing palaces) while they go and watch Chelsea on a saturday afternoon. The donkey became very distressed at this instruction and begged the Staffie to assist him. This the Staffie (whose name was 'Fleur') did by biting the Sheik on the
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Post by LucyQuipment on Mar 25, 2010 10:28:52 GMT
funny bone. Strange to say the Sheik didn't find this in the least bit funny, and chased Fleur through the tents, screaming obscenities and brandishing a startled parrot, who added to the din by reciting the Rime of the Ancient Mariner at the top of his voice, with a following group made up of the Keystone Cops, Benny Hill, and
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Post by Ricky T Outhouse on Mar 25, 2010 18:14:17 GMT
the Poet Laureate Selection Committee, who, regarding the present incumbent as a bit of a second-stringer, were eager to find out who had written that albatrossy thing so that they could offer him the job on a 12 month probationary basis plus oodles of wonga and luncheon vouchers. They were however ambushed in the desert by some tentmaker named Omar who was insisting that he had for sale a moving finger that could write . The Committee huddled for a few minutes and decided that
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Post by LucyQuipment on Mar 26, 2010 9:52:36 GMT
because no-one could read, a moving finger what wrote wasn't much use and they'd rather have some gel saddles for the camels, a fountain of youth, an Ann Summers catalogue, an everlasting gobstopper, a troupe of dancing girls and
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Post by Ricky T Outhouse on Mar 28, 2010 17:00:17 GMT
a map of the desert, which consisted mainly of a bucket of sand with some camel dung in it. Perplexed, the PLSC, who consisted of a sleeping noble borrowed from the House of Lords, Cicely Whimpersnice, the poetess of Cheam, a couple of minor Royals who failed their Sandhurst shouting-at -people exams and Eric Drudge, composer of that epic poem of Northern working class industrial decline entitled 'The Last of the Clogmakers', they all decided that sponsorship by Tomsdales Holidays was not meeting their needs and instead they
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Post by LucyQuipment on Mar 29, 2010 0:27:55 GMT
trouped off the the Houses of Parliament to meet Geoff Hoon to see if he could intercede on their behalf to prevent Tomsdales Holidays from using names to promote the new holiday idea of traversing the Plains of Thessalonika by yak-drawn land-barges. However as they could only offer payment of
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Post by Ricky T Outhouse on Mar 31, 2010 18:20:37 GMT
a couple of budgie quill pens once used by William Shakespeare's youngest son Wayne, a pot of gel ink once owned by Marlowe (whether the playwright or the belted trenchcoat gumshoe remains uncertain), a tube of Trugel hairgel, also of doubtful provenance, that once belonged to Telly Savalas and the previously mentioned bucket of sand and camel dung map of the Arabian Desert. Secretary of State Woohoon did agree to meet with them and immediately sent off the bucket of sand and camel dung to HQ in Afghanistan with the thought that it would fill in nicely for the Chief of Staff who was due a surprise visit. The budgie quill pens he decided to use for
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Post by LucyQuipment on Mar 31, 2010 18:31:06 GMT
picking the remnants of umble pie from between his gnashers. The quills he didn't need for his teeth he used to knit himself an Acme Sooper Dooper Fake Shake Detection kit complete with cloak of invisiility, using wool from Marie Antoinette's pet sheep, using a pattern that he found by accident while browsing the internet looking for
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Post by Ricky T Outhouse on Mar 31, 2010 22:13:47 GMT
a Sirdar Chunky Cardigan pattern in warm beige complete with football buttons and suedette insert panels, designed for the man-about-town looking for career opportunities whilst smoking a cherry-wood pipe and wearing suede brogues in saddle brown and matching machine-washable Crimplene Farah slax. He was lured by the image of the blonde twin-with-the-Toni and the conical push-up waist length bra clearly imaginable beneath the primrose cashmere sweater, who was leaning on the arm of said pipe-smoking role model displayed upon the front cover of the Sirdar knitting pattern that we now know have been mass counterfeited to supply the needs of the knitwear fetish porn industry based in
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Post by LucyQuipment on Apr 1, 2010 8:46:40 GMT
Woolly Bassett, where they hid their nefarious activities behnd a smoke screen of little liquorice men and those yummy coconut ones with the liquirice centre. However for those in the know, with the secret handshake, broad wink, and password of "Ding Donnng" there was a secret trapdoor behind the hundreds and thousands machine that led down to the cellar where
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Post by Ricky T Outhouse on Apr 1, 2010 15:19:22 GMT
dozens of wretched cardigan slaves laboured endlessly at plain and purl to meet the insidious, tormented perverted desires of the plain wool and speckled lurex mind slaves and their 4 ply wrap-around masters. In return they were left to exist on dolly mixtures from which the yummy little pink and white sandwichy ones had been removed and replaced by hard, tormenting, tasteless little gems from which the black ones had been stolen and boiled down to make
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Post by LucyQuipment on Apr 5, 2010 9:28:26 GMT
ring-wraiths, whose sole purpose in life was to suck all the happiness and joy out of hobbitses and tank-top wearers, leaving them at the mercy of jeers and cat-calls from
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Post by Ricky T Outhouse on Apr 6, 2010 10:48:29 GMT
the workers at the windows of the creme egg factory, who, anticipating a short break in manufacturing following the Easter rush, had been perusing the pages of the Tomsdales brochure in search of some early sun. "Oooooh look," said one confectioner wearing a particularly brown-smeary pinny, "they have got one here offering two weeks traversing the Plains of Thessalonika in a yak-drawn land barge" " Cor Blimey and Luvva Duck" said her companion Ethel, who hailed from the Lancashire village of Eckerslaike but bore a striking resemblance to a languid commercial traveller from the London suburb of Befnaw Green who had passed frew Eckerslaike some 18 years previously, " I like the sound of that one Lil...shall us booook us holidays ?" "Oooh yes" said Ethel, looking round for their friend Sally Sally who hailed from a nearby alley (ginnels and snickets are also available) "we could all three of us go together". And so it was that, 2 months later, bedecked in itsy bitsy yellow bikinis and smeared with Boots Soltan and amply stacked stocked with in flight vodka, our 3 heroines found themselves
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Post by LucyQuipment on Apr 6, 2010 11:28:34 GMT
deplaning (horrid word) from the Tryingair plane, which advertised landing at Athens but failed to mention that it was the Athens of the North, aka Embra, on a bright June afternoon in what passed as early summer, ie temperature in single figures and with a stiff breeze blowing off the Firth of Forth, so that our heroines' exposed skin rapidly turned the same fetching shade of blue as the Wkd cocktails clutched in the death-like grasp of their frozen mitts, tipped by inch-long acrylic French-manicured nails, while the icicles slowly formed on their
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Post by Ricky T Outhouse on Apr 6, 2010 13:19:05 GMT
nippl Neep Nyple high heeled 'Fitflops'. Catching the eye of a passing bagpiper they bribed him, in ways only lasses from Eckerslaike would be prepared to do, for the use of his plaid and, wrapping themselves up cosily, they 'fitflopped' off in the direction of the bus station and bought 3 tickets on the air conditioned, fitted with video and WC, seatbelts essential, tinted panoramic windows and airbags provided 'Its always a giggle with McTitters' Tour Bus to Halkidiki....where they hoped they could find a Greek taxi driver who would be prepared to be bribed, in ways known only to lasses from Eckerslaike, to take them to the yak enclosure for the land barges. After a few days of giggling and McTittering they found themselves stood, Soltan smeared and bikinis awry, under a sign that informed them that
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Post by LucyQuipment on Apr 7, 2010 9:22:17 GMT
the bridge to Halkidiki had fallen down, thanks to the resonance caused by the reformed original cast of The Producers tittupping, goose-stepping, mincing, front-crawling, handbagging and otherwise proceeding in step across said bridge. Not to be deterred, our northern beauties decided to make themselves irresistible to yaks, in the hope that said yaks would break out of their enclosure, visible across the strait, and swim across to the Eckerslaike lovelies; this entailed a quick trip to the local farmers' market where they
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Post by Ricky T Outhouse on Apr 8, 2010 11:23:18 GMT
laid out a few drachmas on a big drum of Bristo granules and a sack or two of local veggies with the intention of preparing a sneaky snack for the yaks. However, a few of the locals, dressed in white tights, pleated skirts and big boots, spoke with their wives and agreed there was every likelihood there could be a sneaky yak pack snack attack that could leave the district deep in the cack and that the goodies should be sent back. Our three lovelies were really put on the rack by a local hack in a mac named Jack (the hack that is, not the mac) who completely took the wrong tack and ended up getting the sack regarding the flak he took by scaring the locals with the tales of a possible sneaky yak attack. Our heroines bacame bored with all the yakkity-yak and decided to abandon plans for the yak snax and instead they nailed up a plaque and then followed the track to the beach where they laid out their towels and lay on the beach on their tums and bared their
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Post by LucyQuipment on Apr 8, 2010 13:25:40 GMT
teeth at the beach vendors trying to sell yak-poo-snax, necklaces made of yak teeth, pac-a-macs in case of a sneaky shower, yak-oil body butter, yak-hair fly whisks (is there a theme developing here?), yak-hoof ashtrays, yak milk ice cream and
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Post by Ricky T Outhouse on Apr 9, 2010 14:20:37 GMT
some brochures entitled '1000 uses for a piece of Yak'. Unfortunately the brochures were written in Greek so our heroines could not understand a word of them but they did have some pretty pictures in them,albeit mainly of Greek butchery, so they bought a bundle of them to give out as 'takey-backs' to the girls in the creme egg factory. That being done, the threesome got ligged out on the beach to do some serious ray-catching. Gradually, from over the hills, they began to hear some strange chanting. 'Offsooth unhand me greybeard loon' it seemed to say and ere long the mystery was solved. The PLSC, chanting their theme song, had foolishly handed over the map-reading to the 2 minor Royals, who had mistaken Omar for Oman, had accidentally kicked over the bucket of camel crap map of the desert and were now tramping the olive groves of Hellas in search of
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Post by LucyQuipment on Apr 10, 2010 10:30:56 GMT
a copy of Acronyms for Dummies to find out what the heck PLSC stood for because they were a bit worried it could be something nasty that would come back to bite them on the bum. Everything they tried didn't seem quite right... Puppies Love Semolina Custard Past London, See Cornwall Proper Lads Sow Cornflowers Princes Lack Some Common Pickled Limes Sort Catarrh Pale Lasses Sun Cream Pink Licks Scarlet Canonicals Prunes Loosen Stuck C.....
It was all so much effort they overheated, and set off at a mad ruch, like lemmings, to the sea to cool off, sweeping past our startled lovelies with cries of
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