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Post by Mae Hem on Aug 4, 2009 8:32:05 GMT
folks who should really be better off under the auspices of Care In The Community.
Lee hunched over his computer sobbing uncontrollably.
'What ever is the matter my little dribbling dewlaps?' Said Mahatt, for he was a kindly soul.
'I've gone and got writers block' sobbed lee.
'There is a God said Mahatt'.
to be continued...
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Post by Mae Hem on Aug 4, 2009 14:39:54 GMT
Dot was awakened at the crack of noon by the understairs maid bringing Dot's Bombay Gin and Aftershock (she liked the colour, it went with her eye).
'Good day madam' said Lurchella, 'I hear in the news that them Ramblers have won their court fight, and can cross your land now.'
Dot eyed up her blunderbuss which was propped in readiness in the corner.
'The day has promise after all' she mused. 'rambling moving targets, my favourite!'
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Post by sirnialdementia on Aug 4, 2009 17:08:51 GMT
So, the Crack of Noon is a pub!
Well I never did
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Post by Mae Hem on Aug 4, 2009 17:52:55 GMT
Sir Nial Dementia stretched, hosed himself down, and he got off the plinth. 'Well I've had more than my fifteen minutes of fame, firstly a mention in the press, now the plinth! A shampoo of pigeon droppings is a small price to pay for country-wide recognition. Now back to my mystery tour!'
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Post by sirnialdementia on Aug 4, 2009 20:01:04 GMT
Sir Nial Dementia stretched, hosed himself down, and he got off the plinth. 'Well I've had more than my fifteen minutes of fame, firstly a mention in the press, now the plinth! A shampoo of pigeon droppings is a small price to pay for country-wide recognition. Now back to my mystery tour!' He was Head and Shoulders above many ;D
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Post by Ian Flagrante on Aug 4, 2009 20:52:00 GMT
Sir Nial Dementia stretched, hosed himself down, and he got off the plinth. 'Well I've had more than my fifteen minutes of fame, firstly a mention in the press, now the plinth! A shampoo of pigeon droppings is a small price to pay for country-wide recognition. Now back to my mystery tour!' The omnibus trundled on...and on...and on...until a strange apparition loomed from the swirling mists around the bus stop. A creature wearing a sarong and bearing a receipt from the Tattoo and Tickle Shop stood, looking expectantly at Conrad, The Bus Driver hailed the omnibus by waving a fistful of salad onions in the air. "Does this bus go to the terminus?" enquired Mahatt.
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