| This is an archived forum, so it is here for read-only purposes only. We are not accepting new members and members cannot post any longer. Members can, however, access their old private messages. Strawberry Fields was open from 2006 until 2011. There is a Strawberry Fields Beatles Forum on Facebook. If you are registered with Facebook, join us at the group there! |
| A Thread Of Pure Drivel | |
|---|---|
| Tweet Topic Started: May 7 2006, 10:10 PM (4,821 Views) | |
| 9091 | Sep 20 2007, 05:56 AM Post #201 |
|
Sick and twisted...I like it alot! :lol: |
![]() |
|
| JeffLynnesBeard | Sep 20 2007, 01:31 PM Post #202 |
|
Administrator & Moderator
|
Who knows? :lol: |
| ...and in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make. | |
![]() |
|
| Jacaranda | Sep 20 2007, 01:55 PM Post #203 |
![]()
|
Well, if you were or even if you are currently, at least you're not pregnant, if what we read in Mind Games is true.
|
![]() "If nothing else works, a total pig-headed unwillingness to look facts in the face will see us through." General Melchett, Blackadder Goes Forth | |
![]() |
|
| JeffLynnesBeard | Sep 20 2007, 02:02 PM Post #204 |
|
Administrator & Moderator
|
I was kind of disappointed. I could have made a lot of money if Fiona had gotten me pregnant.
|
| ...and in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make. | |
![]() |
|
| Deleted User | Sep 20 2007, 05:31 PM Post #205 |
|
Deleted User
|
HAHA! That goes for the second one as well. Good sh*t. Seriously, I'd proudly show this to anyone - they're gems. |
|
|
| BeatleBarb | Sep 20 2007, 05:34 PM Post #206 |
![]()
|
You are the top driveler
|
![]() |
|
| JeffLynnesBeard | Sep 20 2007, 11:02 PM Post #207 |
|
Administrator & Moderator
|
Welcome to a preview for CHIX, the new women's magazine written by women for women - and gay men. We know you read these magazines, fellas, so don't even go there! In our first issue we have the latest goss on poor Paris Hilton's terrible jail sentence, Lindsay Lohan's favourite brand of tampons and Britney Spears' waxing technique. Here are a few exerpts from our inaugral magazine. Pity Poor Paris In Prison! Article By Miss D. Meanor *** EXCLUSIVE! *** CHIX: Hey Paris, what's up! How did you cope with your time in jail? PARIS: Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my bathroom? Security! Security! CHIX: Hey Paris, don't be like that... this is CHIX magazine, the sassy mag for the sassy slag! Would you mind answering a few questions? Paris? Paris - don't run! PARIS: Oh my God, get the f*ck away from me... Security! CHIX: There's no need for that Paris, we'll leave. PARIS: Damn straight - and don't come back! CHIX: Stuck-up wh*re. Lindsay Lohan's Tampon Tips! Article by A. Boredhack *** EXCLUSIVE! *** Troubled Linday Lohan today revealed that her favourite tampons are Kotex. Well, that's what was in her bag when I ransacked through it while she was in the bathroom, anyway. Are You A Fat B*tch? Take our simple quiz by Anne O'Rexic and find out! 1. Is your idea of an ideal snack...? a: A piece of toilet paper, lightly seasoned with a grain of salt b: Maybe a couple of pieces of fruit & a nice rice cake or two. 2. What is your waist size? a: Sub-zero. b: Somewhere in the high 20s - I don't really bother measuring myself. 3. What's your attitude to chocolate? a: It's the devil's food - if I eat it, I have to throw it up directly afterwards... so I try not to eat it at all b: I love it - but everything in moderation - I have my hips and thighs to think about! 4. Is your ideal man...? a: Someone rich to buy you lots of nice clothes and someone with a very nice toilet to throw up in. b: They don't have to be wealthy - just someone kind who is a good conversationalist & who will take you to a decent restaurant for a nice meal - nothing fancy. 5. When you look in the mirror, what do you see? a: A fat cow. I see that I need to lose weight, as my bones sticking out make me look obese. b: I see a proud, happy, healthy, confident woman who thinks that it's what is inside that counts! How did you do? MOSTLY A's: Well, you see to have a very healthy attitude about your weight and don't seem to have a problem at all - in fact, you're an aspiration model for every young girl! Well done - we at CHIX salute you! MOSTLY B's: You fat b*tch. Hitler had the right idea for people like you. We'd come and help you have a more responsible approach towards attaining your ideal body, but you'd probably eat us. Britney Spears' Waxing Masterclass! Article by Belle Imia *** EXCLUSIVE! *** CHIX: Hi Britney, thanks for talking to us! BRITNEY: No problem, always happy to talk to a new magazine for us girls! CHIX: Thanks Brit - now, we couldn't help but noticing your vag when you were photographed in that car that time - it looked pretty gross. How have you gone about making it look better since then? BRITNEY: This interview is over. CHIX is out on October 1st - reserve your copy from your news vendor NOW! |
| ...and in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make. | |
![]() |
|
| JeffLynnesBeard | Sep 20 2007, 11:08 PM Post #208 |
|
Administrator & Moderator
|
Thanks, Barb!
|
| ...and in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make. | |
![]() |
|
| maccascruff | Sep 21 2007, 12:48 AM Post #209 |
|
Sing the Changes
|
You are a fantastic writer and make me laugh. I love Ethel's letter. :lol: |
![]() |
|
| JeffLynnesBeard | Sep 21 2007, 01:56 AM Post #210 |
|
Administrator & Moderator
|
Thank you, Linda! High praise indeed - and it's appreciated.
|
| ...and in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make. | |
![]() |
|
| Emilee | Sep 21 2007, 11:56 AM Post #211 |
|
My friend just sent me this in an email.. The Best Metaphors Ever. 1. Her face was a perfect oval, like a circle that had its two sides gently compressed by a Thigh Master. 2. He spoke with the wisdom that can only come from experience, like a guy who went blind because he looked at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it and now goes around the country speaking at high schools about the dangers of looking at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it. 3. She grew on him like she was a colony of E. Coli, and he was room-temperature Canadian beef. 4. She had a deep, throaty, genuine laugh, like that sound a dog makes just before it throws up. 5. Her vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever. 6. He was as tall as a six-foot, three-inch tree. 7. The revelation that his marriage of 30 years had disintegrated came as a rude shock, like a surcharge at a formerly surcharge-free ATM machine. 8. The little boat gently drifted across the pond exactly the way a bowling ball wouldn’t. 9. McBride fell 12 stories, hitting the pavement like a Hefty bag filled with vegetable soup. 10. From the attic came an unearthly howl. The whole scene had an eerie, surreal quality, like when you’re on vacation in another city and A Current Affair comes on at 7:00 p.m. instead of 7:30. 11. Long separated by cruel fate, the star-crossed lovers raced across the grassy field toward each other like two freight trains, one having left Cleveland at 6:36 p.m. traveling at 55 mph, the other from Topeka at 4:19 p.m. at a speed of 35 mph. 12. John and Mary had never met. They were like two hummingbirds who had also never met. 13. Even in his last years, Granddad had a mind like a steel trap, only one that had been left out so long, it had rusted shut. 14. The plan was simple, like my brother-in-law Phil. But unlike Phil, this plan just might work. 15. The young fighter had a hungry look, the kind you get from not eating for a while. 16. He was as lame as a duck. Not the metaphorical lame duck, either, but a real duck that was actually lame, maybe from stepping on a land mine or something. 17. The ballerina rose gracefully en Pointe and extended one slender leg behind her, like a dog at a fire hydrant. 18. It was an Australian tradition, like fathers chasing kids around with power tools. 19. He was deeply in love. When she spoke, he thought he heard bells, as if she were a garbage truck backing up. |
| I wished I could save her in some sort of time machine. | |
![]() |
|
| Aimee Wilbury | Sep 21 2007, 01:58 PM Post #212 |
|
STOP CHANGING THIS ADMINS
|
Uh-- could you please hold-- wait -- it's about to -- uh, hold on a second, all right? (half a minute of a wide assortment of growls, screams, crashes, glass breaking, and other mayhem) Sorry, I had to go out, but please leave a message after the tone. |
![]() |
|
| Deleted User | Sep 22 2007, 01:00 PM Post #213 |
|
Deleted User
|
Emilee, great. :lol: But aren't those similes? In any case, it was as good as orgasming to the thought of chocolate. |
|
|
| Emilee | Sep 22 2007, 01:03 PM Post #214 |
|
OH, BAH. In my sheer laziness I just copied and pasted the whole thing. I didn't even pick up on that! |
| I wished I could save her in some sort of time machine. | |
![]() |
|
| Bill | Sep 22 2007, 02:30 PM Post #215 |
|
To Whom it may Concern, My name is Jason. I am a surly 23yo with blue/black hair, tattoos, lip piercing and am unsuccessfully trying to grow a beard. I have poor communication skills and am not what you might call a people person. I tend to express myself by scowling. I have however, perfected the art of looking far too busy to concern myself with what it is that I am actually busy doing. I have a fashionable interest in obscure punk music and maintain an aloof disinterest in all other forms of music. If you want to know about anything else, don't ask me. I hope you will look favourably upon my application for the position of sales assistant in the music department of JB Hifi. Sincerely, NEXT! |
| Put a puppet on it. | |
![]() |
|
| JeffLynnesBeard | Sep 22 2007, 09:59 PM Post #216 |
|
Administrator & Moderator
|
So true! :lol: |
| ...and in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make. | |
![]() |
|
| Emilee | Oct 1 2007, 10:48 AM Post #217 |
|
Oh boy. The sound of her perfume makes me feel quite ill to my stomach. A certain ill that can either be described as a jovial mix of melancholy and enthusiasm. The kind of enthusiasm that only four hours of Calculus, accompanied by the sweet serenading of Celine Dion can bring. I did however, meet a so called person named Lester who had a rather dashing nose ring. |
| I wished I could save her in some sort of time machine. | |
![]() |
|
| FamousGroupie | Oct 9 2007, 11:21 AM Post #218 |
![]()
Obsessive Saddo Fangirl
|
Rindercella and her sugly isters lived in a marge lansion. Rindercella worked very hard - frubbing scloors, emptying poss pits and shivelling shot. At the end of the day she was nucking fackered. The sugly isters were right bugly astards. One was called Mary Hinge and the other was called Betty Swollocks. They were really forrible uckers and had fetty sweet and fetty swannies. The sugly isters had tickets to go to the ball but the cotton runts wouldn't let Rindercella go. Suddenly there was a bucking fang and her gairy fodmother appeared. Her name was Shairy Hithole and she was a light rucking fesbian. She turned a pumpkin and six mite whice into a hucking cuge farriage with six dandy ronkeys who had buge hollocks and dig bicks. The gairy fodmother told Rindercella to be back by dimnight otherwise there would be a cucking falamity. At the ball Rindercella was dancing with the prandsome hince when suddenly the clock struck twelve. "For suck's fake!" yelled Rindercella as she ran out, tripping barse over ollocks and dropping her slass glipper. Next day the prandsome hince knocked on Rindercella's door and the sugly ister let him in. Suddenly Betty Swollocks lifted her leg and let off a fig bart. "Who's fust jarted?" asked the prandsome hince. "Blame that fugly ucker over there," said Mary Hinge. When the brinking stown cloud had lifted the prandsome hince tried the slass glipper on both the sugly isters without success. Their feet stucking fank. Betty Swollocks was ducking fisgusted and gave the prandsome hince a nack in the kickers. This was not difficult has he had bucking fuge halls and a hig bard-on. He tried the slass glipper on Rindercella and it fitted pucking ferfectly. They were married. The hince lived his life in lucking fuxury and Rindercella lived hers with a follen swanny. And they lived happily ever after... |
| I don't believe in Bondi. I don't believe in rugby league. I believe in Yoko, John Lennon, the Lost Weekend and me. | |
![]() |
|
| Kopite | Oct 9 2007, 02:50 PM Post #219 |
![]()
You'll Never Walk Alone
|
Monday Jo-Anna spends an hour with her magazine. The day is kinda grey and so lazy She goes aaaahh... And hey boy...Jo-Anna's in the mirror in her dressing grown Talking to a friend who lives uptown. She goes aaaahh... |
|
“Above all, I would like to be remembered as a man who was selfless, who strove and worried so that others could share the glory, and who built up a family of people who could hold their heads up high and say, 'We're Liverpool'.” - Bill Shankly | |
![]() |
|
| LIPA | Oct 18 2007, 02:13 AM Post #220 |
|
Let me introduce to you, Professor Yaffle Chuckabutty. Operatic Tenor and Sausage-Knotter. here today from his very own, Broken Biscuit Repair Works, the Jam Butty Mines, The Moggy Ranch and the Treacle Wells. A very industrious town indeed |
| |
![]() |
|
| FamousGroupie | Nov 11 2007, 09:09 AM Post #221 |
![]()
Obsessive Saddo Fangirl
|
I'm not an overly religious person, although I have to confess I've always been quite fond of the Ten Commandments. I like the idea that existence comes with a detailed set of instructions and, if you think about it, the Commandments are like God's version of Life For Dummies. In fact, my only problem with these original commandments is that they're not detailed enough. As life becomes increasingly complex, surely it's time for the Big Fella upstairs to upsize the list. Instead of Ten Commandments, couldn't we have 20? Or even 50 or 100? Surely, in these modern times, there are areas that could do with a specific Ten Commandments all of their own. I don't know about you, but I'd be more likely to pick up a new copy of The Bible if, as well as the classics, it contained the chapters The Ten Commandments of Avoiding A Full Body Search at Customs or The Ten Commandments of The Express Lane At Supermarkets. (Especially if it promised an eternity burning in the fires of hell for anyone who tried to take more than 12 items through the 12-items-or-less lane, or anyone in an express lane who pays by EFTPOS.) And that's not all. The other night I went to a concert and when the guy in front of me hoisted his girlfriend onto his shoulders - completely obscuring my view of the artist I'd paid 70 bucks to see - I wished I had a Ten Commandments of Appropriate Behaviour at Gigs. But then, I thought, maybe I was being a bit demanding, expecting God to come up with these Commandments. After all, I imagine the Big Fella is kept pretty busy helping sportspeople win races and rappers win Grammys. So, I asked some mates and today, I present my Ten Commandments of Appropriate Behaviour at Gigs. Commandment One If you want to have a conversation with someone, do it at the bar or, better still, at home. Seriously folks, who are these people who think, I need to spend some time with Mark in deep and meaningful conversation, I'd better buy some tickets to Rage Against The Machine. Commandment Two If you're going to the mosh pit, finish your beverage first. Remember, if you drink and mosh, you're a wet, sticky idiot. Commandment Three Ladies, if you're going to sit on your boyfriend's shoulders, improving the view for yourself, but obscuring it for half the audience, then please take your top off, so at least the crowd has something interesting to look at. Commandment Four Shirts should remain on at all times. (The one exception to the rule is as above.) Commandment Five If you're going to follow the lead singer's exhortation to "put your hands in the air" and "wave them like you just don't care", please make sure you first apply liberal coats of deodorant. Commandment Six When it comes to cameras, if you need to take photos, try to avoid pointing the flash at the artist's eyes. Nobody wants to hear, "It was an awesome gig last night...I managed to give Phil Collins a stroke!" (OK, maybe a couple of people would be happy to hear that.) Commandment Seven You must be 100 percent sure of the lyrics before committing to singing along. The worst example I've seen of this was when I went to see Rick Springfield - don't ask - and ended up standing next to a woman who kept singing that she wished she had "Jessie's squirrel". And if you do plan to sing along, the rule with volume is simple; you should never sing so loud that the person next to you hears more of your voice than the artists they shelled out to see. The only exception to this rule is when you're invited to sing along by the lead singer through the terms "all together now" or "come on, you know the words". Commandment Eight When attending a gig, you must not, and I stress must not, wear a T-shirt featuring the band you're actually seeing. This is particularly bad form if you've recently purchased the T-shirt at the merchandise desk and are now sitting on your boyfriend's shoulders. Commandment Nine If you don't have fluorescent green hair normally, then don't dye it for a concert. Chances are, sometime in the middle of the show, the dye will start to mix with your sweat and run down your face, and you'll finish the night looking like the illegitimate love child of the Hulk. And last but not least, Commandment Ten Earplugs should not be worn at any time. If it's too loud, then you're too old - go home. The only exception to this rule is if you happen to find yourself at a James Blunt concert, in which case feel free to wear earplugs, wear earmuffs or chop your ears off if need be. |
| I don't believe in Bondi. I don't believe in rugby league. I believe in Yoko, John Lennon, the Lost Weekend and me. | |
![]() |
|
| JeffLynnesBeard | Mar 3 2008, 06:06 AM Post #222 |
|
Administrator & Moderator
|
Just as Michael was about to take his dinner into the dining room, he spied something in the corner of his eye running across the tiled kitchen floor. He quickly put his plate down on one of the kitchen surfaces and went to take a closer look - it was a cockroach. Michael lifted up his shoe and was just about to crush the creature when he heard a little voice yelling, "Stop!" Michael stepped back and blinked in astonishment. He asked the cockroach, "Did you just speak to me?" The cockroach nodded his little head. "Yes, that's right - I can talk", he squeaked, "and I was wondering - can I ask you a question?" Completely astounded, nodding his head just a little was as much as Michael could muster. "I was wondering - who is your provider for long distance calls?" the cockroach asked. "You see, I'm positive that we could save you at least fifty percent on your monthly phone bills." "What!?!" spluttered Michael. "You're a cockroach - are you seriously trying to sell me cheap long-distance?" "Sorry", retorted the cockroach apologetically, "but old habits die hard. You see, there is such a thing as reincarnation and, believe it or not, I was once one of those annoying b*stards who would cold-call people just as they're sitting down for dinner." "And you've come back as a cockroach!" exclaimed Michael. "I know!" remarked the cockroach, thoughtfully. "What did I do to deserve such a great promotion?" |
| ...and in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make. | |
![]() |
|
| JeffLynnesBeard | Apr 18 2008, 12:54 AM Post #223 |
|
Administrator & Moderator
|
Once upon a time, there was a young boy called Lambert Raspberry who lived in a big house with his parents, Colin and Colin. Colin, who was his mother, liked to weave tapestry all day whilst eating tapioca and tapping her toes. Colin, his father, enjoyed farting and often called the neighbours round to show off his musical skills using only the art of flatulence. Lambert Raspberry was a lucky little boy because he was the proud owner of an invisible dog called Colin. Calling Colin's name in the house led to some confusion sometimes because everyone in the house would come running. They would nearly always trip over the invisible dog and before you could say “Bakewell Tart”, there was tapioca and methane everywhere. Colin, Colin and Lambert would laugh like electrified clowns and Colin would bark like a chainsaw cutting into the trunk of a mighty oak until they had laughed themselves dry. One day, Lambert and Colin (the dog) decided to go on an adventure and so packed a lunch of hard-boiled eggs, gooseberry chutney and lashings of ginger beer, not forgetting a tin of peaches for Colin, of course. As Lambert headed out of the door, with his packed lunch in a little plastic sandwich box which was made to promote the film Gigli, Colin and Colin spotted him and asked him where he was going. Lambert proudly announced that he was going on an adventure. Colin replied that it was all good and well going on an adventure, but said that Lambert really should put some clothes on first. After dressing in a smart pair of dungarees, Lambert opened the front door, waved goodbye to Colin and Colin and made his way out into the big wide world. Unfortunately, Colin had never been outside before and ran straight out into the busy road where cars zipped up and down like the zipper on Warren Beatty's trousers. Of course, the drivers of the cars couldn't see Colin, because he was invisible, and Colin met his end underneath a second hand Volvo driven by a man called Colin. Given his state of grief, Lambert didn't find any consolation or amusement in the coincidence and ran back inside the house crying. Unfortunately, in the few seconds that Lambert had been outside, his parents had taken the opportunity to move to Hawaii, using the money they had saved in the vain hope that Lambert would finally leave the house. Predictably, the new owners weren't at all sympathetic to the crying boy who was hysterically muttering things about his dead invisible dog and at least four people all called Colin. They rang up the local loony bin who came to take Lambert away – and that's where he remains to this day, which is actually, in fact, yesterday. Check your calendars. The moral of this story is: don't look for a moral in this story, because you won't find one. The End. |
| ...and in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make. | |
![]() |
|
| BeatleBarb | Apr 18 2008, 01:49 AM Post #224 |
![]()
|
You crazy person, JLB. I love it and it does have a moral! |
![]() |
|
| JeffLynnesBeard | Apr 18 2008, 01:52 AM Post #225 |
|
Administrator & Moderator
|
Thanks, Barb.
|
| ...and in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make. | |
![]() |
|
| JeffLynnesBeard | Apr 18 2008, 01:17 PM Post #226 |
|
Administrator & Moderator
|
THE BOOK OF CHANTELLE 1: In the, like, beginning, yeah, God created the heaven and the earth, which was phat, innit. 2: And the earth was, like, lame, right, because there weren't nothing there. 3: And God said, Let there be light: and there was light. Musta remembered to pay his lecky bill, innit? 4: And God saw the light, and it was well sorted, brotha! Totally wack! God, was, like, going well A and B the C of D, and divided the light from the dark! Safe. 5: And, right, God called the light Day, and the darkness he called Night. Well, duh! And the evening and the morning were the first day, now all dat's old skool. 6: And God was chattin, like on MSN, “Let there be a firmament in the midst of the waters, and let it divide the waters from the waters”. Word. No ideas what dat means, but it sounds well blingin'. 7: And God did loads of other stuff, yeah? No point asking no questions, coz He's like, God, man. 8: And God called the stuff Heaven, which is a bangin' nightclub. I was, like, totally caning vodka and Red Bulls there the other night. And the evening and the morning were the second day which totally usually follows the first day? Yeah, right blood! Even I knows that. 9: And God created mobile phones with pay as you go, only He never has to, like, borrow a flim off of his old lady to top it up cos He's the almighty. Well unfair, innit? 10: And God called the dry land Earth; and the gathering together of the waters called da Seas: and God saw that it was slammin'. 11: And God went on, right, say “Let the earth bring forth grass, the herb yielding seed, and the fruit tree yielding fruit after his kind, whose seed is in itself, upon the earth”: and it was so. This bit is well sound 'cos I knows all about da herb, you know what I mean, blood? 12: And the earth brought forth grass, and herb yielding seed after his kind, and the tree yielding fruit, whose seed was in itself, after his kind: and God saw that it was good. I'm totally sure I just read this bit. I'm well confused.com. Must be all da herbs, right? You knows it! 13: And the evening and the morning were the third day... let me guess, right, next comes da fourth day? I is totally getting this, innit! 14: And God said, “Blah, blah, blah, blah”: Tell it to the hand, geezer. You're major narking me off nows. 15: You know my bessie mate, Kylie? She so, like, copped off with Leroy da other night. Slapper. Nah, just kidding, brotha. She's safe, totally safe. 16: And God made vodka and I'm, like, sweet! Thanks homeboy! 17: And God did load of other stuff. He's God, so he does what a God does. Godlike stuff, like. 18: Just to, like, make sure we know what day is and night is, He made day light and night dark. It would have been well funny if He'd have done it da other way round, yeah, that'd be, like, well bad! 19: And the evening and the morning were the fourth day. See, told ya's all. If you snooze, you lose. 20: And God then spent a bit of time making animals like chickens, cows and stuff so we can, like, nosh KFC and Maccy D's. 21: He then created all these other animals which aren't tasty. I don't really see the point of all that, right, but I ain't gonna question God. He could turn me into a pillow of salt like Lot's missus and that would suck big-time. 22: And God blessed them, by saying, “Go and have it off and have sex and that.” My bessie mate Kylie likes that bit, big-style! Sl*t! (Only messin' Kylie, loves ya, babe). 23: And the evening and the morning were the fifth day. What, after da fourth day? You're messin' with me, right? God, I'm such a sarky cow sometimes. 24: And God said, “I'm well knackered after all dis creating malarkey. Anyone got any smokes?” and he, like, crashed a fag off of his homie, Gabriel. 25: After a crafty fag break, God got down to it again and, like, created loads more stuff for us to kill and eat, which is well phat, man. 26: And God said, “Let us make Eastenders, Corrie, hooped earrings, scrunchies and alcopops!” 27: So God created man in his own image, in the image of God created he him; male and female created he them. Only, I don't think he made me Uncle Roger in his image, because he's well disgusting and smells and that. He kept on asking me what underkeks I had on the other day. I tell you, blood, he's a right perve. God ain't nothing like that peedo. 28: And God blessed them, and God said unto them, Be fruitful, and multiply, and replenish the earth, and subdue it: and have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over every living thing that moveth upon the earth. So eat, drink and be merry, yeah? Am I right? Am I right? Course I am. No brainer, innit? 29: And God said, “I'm well knackered, mate.” So he created Sundays and told us all to, like, watch da Eastenders Omnibus and munch big dinners and just, like, chill. 30: And God put the finishing touches on everything and that was, like, it. Safe. 31: And God saw every thing that he had made, and, behold, it was very good. Even though, right, He shouldn't be thinkin that coz it's a bit big headed to think what you've done is kickin', even if it is. He should, like, totally ask someone and they'll tell Him it was kickin', because it's, well, it's the whole world, brotha! I mean, if you'da done that then you'd think it was well ballin' too, so maybe you can't blame the bloke. Laters. |
| ...and in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make. | |
![]() |
|
| Bill | Apr 18 2008, 01:35 PM Post #227 |
|
Brilliant!
|
| Put a puppet on it. | |
![]() |
|
| JeffLynnesBeard | Apr 18 2008, 01:51 PM Post #228 |
|
Administrator & Moderator
|
Ta.
|
| ...and in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make. | |
![]() |
|
| Bill | Apr 18 2008, 02:00 PM Post #229 |
|
Just don' leddit go to yer head, yeah? No-one likes a stuck-up prophet. Booyah! |
| Put a puppet on it. | |
![]() |
|
| Mark Stephen Baker | Jun 1 2008, 02:48 PM Post #230 |
![]()
Administrator & Moderator
|
One day, whilst sitting in the park feeding all the out of work candle stick makers I happened upon a secret passage way that lead to Shangri-La, a dimention were all my dreams would come true. However it was time for my bath so I threw pencils at it instead, just to let the dimensional porthole controller know I was interested. I returned home by means of etch-a-sketch only to find that my bath had deserted me for a suspicioulsy over weight ornament shelf called Kevin (aren't they all?) and gone to live in a small waxwork museum behind the sofa. Receiving this unexpected news I made my way, steadfastly to my local florest to ensure I could still be elected as a shining example of stoat molesting, as my birthday co-incides with a great festival of this much derided activity. The florest was quietly being dead in the back but still helped me pick out a new dress to impress every cement mixer from here to there and back again but alas as I left I discovered that it was in fact a cheese cake which proceeded to ask me the way to Wantage. As it was a lemon cheese cake I obligingly told it to take the Isle Of Wight ferry across the Mersey twice in rapid susesion then spend the rest of it's pityful life telling everyone who had the misfortune to meet it that it could have been a famous fishmonger if things had worked out differantly. I think this prooves one should never sit in the park on Tuesdays.
Edited by Mark Stephen Baker, Jun 1 2008, 03:00 PM.
|
| |
![]() |
|
| Kit_Kat | Jun 1 2008, 03:13 PM Post #231 |
![]()
Lennon's Mummy xx
|
|
![]() ![]() This can be summed up in one word - organised crime | |
![]() |
|
| BeatleBarb | Jun 2 2008, 08:16 PM Post #232 |
![]()
|
You goof ball. I want what you're smokin'....hilarious! |
![]() |
|
| Bill | Jun 28 2008, 12:27 PM Post #233 |
|
Jimbly Gobbit was a silly old fool but that was always common knowledge so we won't dwell on that. Our story concerns his descendents, although how Jimbly even managed to descend anything was a matter of some conjecture. He certainly married but his wife married him for money. Not for his own money, he rarely had a copper Narna to his name. No, his wife was paid an allowance by the true object of Jimbly’s affections, the heiress Fors, in order to get that silly little man away from her window once and for all. His wife, Rummy, certainly bore children but the general consensus was that she fertilised herself with a leaf from a Soolah tree. This isn’t at all as unusual as you might expect. The community, where our story takes place was far more open-minded than most about cross-species breeding. It was certainly no embarrassment if your father was a hedgehog and your mother was a tree fern. So we skip forward a few generations to the Slibble family; a family of fice comprising and Nigel, Nigelle, Nijel, Nigella and a pot plant called Eric. They were very much a normal family in the community of Gugu, but as Eric saw it, that was just the problem. In his opinion, the Slibbles were merely conforming to an accepted aesthetic of what a good Gugu family should be. This was not always the way. The family ideal of course, hade been developed over many centuries of history, and legend before that, and theories before that, and made up stories before that. So as you can imagine, the modern Gugu family had much to live up to. The community of Gugu lay in a valley (well it would, wouldn’t it?) and the locals had very little experience, knowledge, or even suspicion of the outside world. That is, even if there was one. Eric convinced the rest of the Slibbles that there must be a world outside, which they should either explore, or prove the non-existence of. So late one night, after the sun had gone down behind the surrounding hills, they set off up one of the hills to see what they could see. Onve the hill they saw another valley, with another community just as unaware as they previously were, of any life outside their own little clan. The Slibbles then walked along the hilltops around the new valley they had just discovered, and found another community just like the first one. Eventually, they walked up the highest hill, which could not be seen from their own valley, and when they reached the peak, they looked over a whole network of valleys and communities, all isolated by mountains in a pattern which some might describe as honeycomb. In the morning, they went back to their own valley and reported their discovery to the presiding officer of the community committee. Over the years, the community had realised that although things were generally fairly idyllic, they still required some kind of government. It wasn’t called a government since that had been overthrown years ago in favour of a feudal monarchy. Feudalism didn’t work since the monarch kept either dying, or spawning so many heirs that everyone in the community had a claim to the throne. That was the next step in the Gugu government’s evolution. When everyone in the community was the rightful monarch, they become a patriarchy. That isn’t to say males had all the power. Around that time, they were also a matriarchy, hermaphrodarchy or botanarchy as the situation required but in order to save space on the sign outside the chief’s residence, it was shortened to patriarchy. Of course, that was the downfall of that particular system with most of the community’s resources taken up by quibbling over terms. After that, they experimented with anarchy but couldn’t find a way to make it work properly, so that was scrapped in favour of a democratic republic. That allowed any citizen to stand for office, and elections were held once a year. It all ended in stalemate when every candidate received one vote in every election. The system they currently used, which had been in place for as long as records went back (that is, as far as the current system went back) was pretty much the same as all the others but had taken out all the ugly names. “Ruler” was out because they had been proven to be evil; “President” was a no-no since that has been corrupted and “Government” was definitely out because they never worked. They settled on “Committee” and the head of the committee was called the presiding officer since “President” had already been soiled, however someone were already getting the jitters about “Officer.” “BUGGER!!!” exclaimed the Presiding Officer, ‘You weren’t supposed to know that!” |
| Put a puppet on it. | |
![]() |
|
| Kit_Kat | Jul 28 2008, 03:16 PM Post #234 |
![]()
Lennon's Mummy xx
|
Cheese filled baths are a great on mountains of blue |
![]() ![]() This can be summed up in one word - organised crime | |
![]() |
|
| Mark Stephen Baker | Jul 28 2008, 03:24 PM Post #235 |
![]()
Administrator & Moderator
|
The cheese melts cooly into the plughole of reticents and festoons the gropping sides of the mountain creating imposing natural environes as seeked out by the spiritual decendantes of Winson Churchill's parrot! Edited by Mark Stephen Baker, Jul 28 2008, 04:03 PM.
|
| |
![]() |
|
| SherryO | Jul 28 2008, 04:02 PM Post #236 |
|
Holy Crap!! And I thought my meds were GOOD!! You guys have been holding out on me!
|
![]() |
|
| Kit_Kat | Jul 28 2008, 04:04 PM Post #237 |
![]()
Lennon's Mummy xx
|
Pure green boiled eggs cannot survive with Chinese spinach, artichokes and hill sides |
![]() ![]() This can be summed up in one word - organised crime | |
![]() |
|
| SherryO | Jul 28 2008, 04:06 PM Post #238 |
|
None of things appeal to me in the least. |
![]() |
|
| Kit_Kat | Jul 28 2008, 04:08 PM Post #239 |
![]()
Lennon's Mummy xx
|
They aren't meant to Sherry, it's drivel!!!
|
![]() ![]() This can be summed up in one word - organised crime | |
![]() |
|
| Mark Stephen Baker | Jul 28 2008, 04:14 PM Post #240 |
![]()
Administrator & Moderator
|
The appalling appealing nature of the drivel thread is that it appalls the most appealing people but appeals to the more appalling ones. |
| |
![]() |
|
| SherryO | Jul 28 2008, 04:39 PM Post #241 |
|
Right, & they can keep it, too! |
![]() |
|
| Bill | Sep 22 2008, 04:56 AM Post #242 |
|
Welcome back everyone, and now it's time once again to play everybody's favourite game show, Are You Smarter than a Vice Presidential Candidate? Okay, here are some easy questions to begin with: Question 1: What does the vice president do? A: Breaks ties in the Senate and remains ready and able to become commander in chief, either temporarily or permanently, at a moment's notice in the event of an emergency. B: I don't know Question 2: In the pledge of allegiance, the reference to God was inserted by A: A joint resolution of Congress in 1954 after much lobbying by the Knights of Columbus. B: The founding fathers Okay, are you ready for some harder ones? Question 3: Foreign policy experience could be described as, A: Having previously dealt with representatives of foreign governments. B: Living near another country C: A refueling stop Question 4: What is the Bush Doctrine? A: The assertion of the right to pre-emptive defence without direct threat or attack B: A memorial to Steve Irwin C: I don't know Question 5: What are the fundamentals of an economy? A: Basic cash flow. Making sure expenditure isn't greater than income, that kind of thing. B: Economic indicators such as GDP, balance of trade, interest rates, employment, budget deficits and so-on. C: The good ol' salt-of-the-earth American workers. Those who haven't had their jobs outsourced overseas, anyway. Now we come to the section on definitions: Question 6: What does "a task from God" mean? A: A holy war B: Getting the band back together C: It's a direct reference to Lincoln when he said that we should not pray that God is on our side but that we are on God's side.... obviously! Question 7: What does "thanks, but no thanks" mean? A: I deeply appreciate your generous offer, but I really must decline B: You're cute, now don't be so silly. C: Hey, I'd really like that and I'm all for it, right up until it becomes a political liability and then I'll claim I stopped it, even though Congress had already canned the project. But I'll keep the money anyway. |
| Put a puppet on it. | |
![]() |
|
| Deleted User | Sep 22 2008, 05:21 AM Post #243 |
|
Deleted User
|
^^^
|
|
|
| BeatleBarb | Sep 27 2008, 05:51 PM Post #244 |
![]()
|
Bill - that's hysterically drivelly
|
![]() |
|
| JeffLynnesBeard | Oct 21 2008, 04:58 PM Post #245 |
|
Administrator & Moderator
|
Built with nothing but clouds and brake-dust, Libby's house was a dream of an abode and sat amongst the red and golden coloured fallen leaves in a vaguely imaginary road. The best things about her home was that it was as big or as small as she wanted it to be and could be situated anywhere she wanted to live. All she had to do was to close her eyes tight, sprinkle self-raising flour on her sparkling silver hair and let her mind wander across rivers, streams, caves, mountains and WAL*MARTs until her house found a place to settle for the day. Blessed with a sense of humour as fine as John McCain's pubic hair, Libby would open the door of her house and flash her ample breasts at squirrels, for a laugh. Sometimes squirrels would get distracted and crash into each other, their nuts scattering all over the pathway, tripping ageing geese. This would cause Libby to laugh like steam escaping from a kettle and could, on good days, generate just as much heat. Libby despised the working class and would make it one of her many daily chores to fire little paper dolphins soaked in treacle at anyone she suspected to be working class walking by. Of course, she avoided poorer areas because she could literally exhaust herself doing so to so many unfortunate people and, drained of her legendary vigour and out of treacle, you would find her, completely naked, croaking "b*stards!" defiantly from her horse-hair chair on her entirely fictional porch. One day - a Tuesday I think (or it could have been a Wednesday - I don't believe it is important) - Libby died. She had simply forgotten to eat for quite a while and, devoid of food, her body just gave up on her. Her last words were, "actually, I am feeling a little peckish", after which her rectum prolapsed, her nose fell off and she broke wind loudly but in a very high frequency, startling only the children in the Greater Manchester area. Their parents didn't believe them, of course. Libby was cremated, then buried, then dug up and cremated again (just to make sure) on a Thursday (or it could have also been a Friday... again, I don't think it is integral to this tale) and was finally laid to rest in the fuel tank of a monster truck. No squirrels, geese or working class people turned up to her funeral, which teaches a lesson to all of us, I think. She left her house to her favourite member of the Bee Gees, Barry. Unfortunately, he hasn't been able to find it and now wanders the globe searching for a house made of nothing but clouds and brake-dust, getting very strange looks from any passers-by he asks. Still, it's not as if he's interrupting a career or anything these days, is it? |
| ...and in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make. | |
![]() |
|
| FamousGroupie | Nov 2 2008, 09:01 AM Post #246 |
![]()
Obsessive Saddo Fangirl
|
The time is nigh. After what's sometimes felt less like an election campaign and more like a hostage situation, the people of America finally have their say and elect a new President on Tuesday. Over the past few months, I've frequently been asked who I hope will win and I confess, the answer isn't simple. Sure, as a citizen of the world, I hope that Americans do the right thing and elect Barack Obama - a man who has a genuine chance of healing the world - but spare a thought for comedians. You see, despite George W Bush being widely acknowledged as one of the worst US presidents in history, he's been an absolute goldmine for comics. After all, this is the man who once declared, "Rarely is the question asked, is our children learning?" Technically, you have to admit he's right on that one - that question is rarely asked. A question asked is, "How the hell did they elect a president that even Forrest Gump would have made fun of at school?" None of this is surprising when it's coming from a man who also said, "You teach a child to read, and he or her will be able to pass a literacy test." Ah yes, Bush giving advice about literacy. It's like being given abstinence advice by George Michael, or Amy Winehouse suggesting you "just say no to drugs." Bush is a comic genius. He's the guy who, at a conference, announced, "I promise you, I will listen to what has been said here, even though I wasn't here." He's either a complete moron or one of the most provocative existential thinkers who's ever lived. One of the great philosophical questions of all time is, "If a tree falls in the forest and only George W sees it, was he really there?" That's not to say he doesn't also understand the plight of the battler. This is the leader who, in 2000, claimed, "I know how hard it is for you to put food on your family." It's also rather inappropriate and unhygienic, too. Say what you want about the big bad Bush, but he's a believer in family. That year, he also said, "Families is where our nation finds hope, where wings take dream." What the? You know you're in trouble as president when Yoda's giving you grammar advice. But Bush isn't just a man of words, he's also a man of action. In 2001, he noted, "For every fatal shooting, there were roughly three non-fatal shootings. And, folks, this is unacceptable in America. It's just unacceptable. And we're going to do something about it." Compulsory target practice in schools, then? It does have the added incentive of keeping class sizes down. You see my point. When it comes to making life easy for comedians, the man has been a godsend, and we thought we'd never see his like again. Then along came Sarah Palin - the woman even dumb blondes make jokes about. Palin, who when asked which magazines she read, said, "All of them." I'm sure the boys at Live To Ride will be rapt to hear their biker magazine is playing such a pivotal role in American politics. It was Palin who also said she had foreign policy experience because she could "see Russia from her house". That means I can call myself a horticulturalist because I can see a tree through my back window. While Governor of Alaska, Palin abused her power by booting out the state police chief because he wouldn't fire her sister's ex-husband. If I were the ex, I'd be voting for Obama because, if she wins, he'll be going on an all-expenses holiday to Guantanamo Bay. My absolute favourite Palin gaffe is when she admitted she believed dinosaurs were around in the Garden of Eden. Hmmm, I think she might be confusing the Bible with The Flintstones. I don't remember the bit in the Good Book when Eve said, "Hey Adam, do you want an apple?" and he replied, "I yabba dabba do." So you can see the dilemma. Do we want brilliant but boring Barack to win? Or do we want the Americans to elect someone who will keep our comedians in work for the next eight years? All I can ask is that as the people cast their votes, they recall these words of George W Bush: "There's an old saying in Tennessee - I know it's in Texas, probably in Tennessee - that says, 'Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me - you can't get fooled again.' " I couldn't have said it better myself. |
| I don't believe in Bondi. I don't believe in rugby league. I believe in Yoko, John Lennon, the Lost Weekend and me. | |
![]() |
|
| Mark Stephen Baker | Mar 6 2009, 11:52 PM Post #247 |
![]()
Administrator & Moderator
|
Clive loves sausages but Malcolm prefers sunbathing whilst Kevin has an average of seventeen spare facial expressions per rotation of Derek's banana polishing machine. Therefore Kevin must be taller than Clive but with less knowledge of seaweed than Malcolm. |
| |
![]() |
|
| Kit_Kat | Mar 7 2009, 12:25 AM Post #248 |
![]()
Lennon's Mummy xx
|
The cheese and blackbird pie is covered in green lime in a bath full of drool |
![]() ![]() This can be summed up in one word - organised crime | |
![]() |
|
| BeatleBarb | Mar 7 2009, 04:14 AM Post #249 |
![]()
|
I love the Drivel thread. It makes me miss Andy.
|
![]() |
|
| Mark Stephen Baker | Mar 7 2009, 10:23 AM Post #250 |
![]()
Administrator & Moderator
|
Yeah and speaking of unicorns, there's a cement mixer in my soup! |
| |
![]() |
|
| Old Brown Shoe | Mar 7 2009, 12:49 PM Post #251 |
![]()
|
Whats it doing ???The backstroke???
|
| Rest in Peace Mom!!!!4/7/38-2/8/09 I Miss You!!! | |
![]() |
|
| Mark Stephen Baker | Mar 7 2009, 12:52 PM Post #252 |
![]()
Administrator & Moderator
|
No, backwards algebra silly!!!
|
| |
![]() |
|
| Bill | Mar 7 2009, 01:06 PM Post #253 |
|
Arbegla? |
| Put a puppet on it. | |
![]() |
|
| Mark Stephen Baker | Mar 7 2009, 01:07 PM Post #254 |
![]()
Administrator & Moderator
|
Yes, she's coming for dinner later. |
| |
![]() |
|
| Bill | Mar 7 2009, 01:09 PM Post #255 |
|
And you had the soup without her? Is that a bit rude? |
| Put a puppet on it. | |
![]() |
|
| Mark Stephen Baker | Mar 7 2009, 01:10 PM Post #256 |
![]()
Administrator & Moderator
|
No, the soup was too tall for a spanish omlette anyway. |
| |
![]() |
|
| Andy | Apr 1 2009, 02:04 PM Post #257 |
![]()
|
Bono was sad. It had been over twenty-four hours since he had met a world leader and banged on incessantly about ridding the world of poverty. Big Irish tears dripped from his big, Irish eyes as he reclined on his $500,000 antique sofa, lighting his big, fat Cuban cigar with a $100 dollar bill. It was all-too apparent that Bono was going through a mid-life crisis and was worried about growing old and irrelevant. He picked up his diamond-encrusted Motorola and tried to get hold of the Pope, but it rang once and then went straight to voicemail. Bono just knew that his holiness had seen who was calling and rejected it. Either that or he was on the other line to that w*nker, Geldof. “I hate that b*stard!” screamed the diminutive front-man, flinging his phone savagely across the room, smashing the arm off the ice sculpture of himself he had made daily, sending shards of ice dancing across the floor of his Dublin castle. “I hate him, I hate him, I hate him!” he yelled at the top of his voice, then dropped to the floor and pounded the carpet with his little hands and feet until he had no more energy… and had soiled himself. It just wasn’t fair! Unlike Bono, Geldof was ageing gracefully and hadn’t resorted to hair implants, corsets, elevated soles and daily botox. Unlike Bono, Geldof didn’t really sell any albums any more. Unlike Bono, Geldof was well liked and respected by most people, whereas Bono was widely regarded as an annoying t*at. Bono just couldn’t understand it. Just then, the doorbell chimed (it was the opening guitar riff to “Mysterious Ways”). Bono got off the floor, wiped his eyes and one of his seventeen Butlers appeared. “Shall I see who that is, Mr. Bono, Sir?” asked Ponsonby. “Yes, but just let me get into one of my rock-star poses first”, replied Bono, meekly. “Very good, Sir”, muttered Ponsonby and patiently waited for his employer to stuff a few socks into his trousers, place a John Lennon cap on his head, put some ridiculously oversized sunglasses on and then pose like he was playing an invisible accordian. Ponsonby opened the front door and, standing there, were the other three members of U2 - The Edge and the other two who nobody remembers the names of - not even Naomi Campbell and she shagged one of them. Bono’s Irish eyes were smiling. “The! Larry! Adam! What the feck are you doing here?” The Edge looked serious as he stepped into Bono’s ridiculously lavish home. “Truth is, Bono, we’ve come here to tell you that you’re fired.” Bono’s rock-star pose faded noticeably. His pretend squeeze-box was deflated. “Fired? But why?” The Edge sighed, “Truth is, Bono, everyone thinks you’re a complete t*at. Me and the lads do. Your missus does. The rest of the world does. The Pope just called me and asked me if I’d have a word with you to get you to stop calling him. He does have a life outside being The Pope, you know. You keep on interrupting his Texas Hold ‘Em Poker games with your bleating on about making poverty history, like you came up with the bloody idea.” The other two nodded along with The Edge’s assessment sagely. “I can’t fecking believe what I’ve fecking hearing!” spluttered Bono. “Well, that’s the truth.” retorted The Edge. We’ve asked Geldof to front the band. He can’t sing for toffee, but at least some people might respect us again. Sorry.” With this, the three members of U2 turned around and walked out of Bono’s life forever. “b*stards.” pouted Bono, bitterly. Well, this had really messed up Bono’s day, so he did the only thing he possibly could think of to cheer himself up. He put a DVD on of himself, pleasuring himself, whilst talking about making poverty history and settled himself down to have a nice, juicy, Irish w*nk. All Ponsonby could do is to raise one eyebrow, impeccably, and be ready with the tissues. He’d seen all of this before. |
![]() |
|
| BeatleBarb | Apr 1 2009, 02:18 PM Post #258 |
![]()
|
Haha....Andy's driveling again Most excellent and accurate, I'm afraid. Thanks for the early morning laugh! |
![]() |
|
| Monkey Chow | Apr 1 2009, 03:57 PM Post #259 |
|
beep beep m beep beep yeah
|
We got a gps for our birthdays and I used it today because I was going somewhere I didn't know where I was going. We set it to have a sexy-voiced English woman give directions. She is forever telling me to get on and off the motorway. Ahh, the little things that get me through my day... |
| Everybody's got something to hide 'cept for me and my monkey. | |
![]() |
|
| Andy | Apr 1 2009, 11:59 PM Post #260 |
![]()
|
You're most welcome, dearest Barb.
|
![]() |
|
| Bill | Apr 2 2009, 12:07 AM Post #261 |
|
A quote from Mrs Bono: "Sometimes I have to remind him to get down off the table and that I'm not 50,000 people." |
| Put a puppet on it. | |
![]() |
|
| Mr.Mustard | Apr 2 2009, 12:11 AM Post #262 |
|
***BANNED***
|
i wonder when the next general erecton will be that's from in his own write, or it might be SITW. It's not drivel it's just, well I thought I'd post something in this wonderfully titled thread and that what came to mind! |
![]() |
|
| Mr.Mustard | Apr 2 2009, 12:13 AM Post #263 |
|
***BANNED***
|
is Bono diminutive? I 've not heard that before....I mean, to be dimimutive you've got to be small like tom cruise. |
![]() |
|
| Andy | Apr 2 2009, 12:47 AM Post #264 |
![]()
|
Well, he's 5' 7" which isn't tiny, but is on the shortish size.
|
![]() |
|
| Mr.Mustard | Apr 2 2009, 12:52 AM Post #265 |
|
***BANNED***
|
sorry but he's not dimimutive! I thought he'd be a bit taller than that. Bob dylans not very tall either and I always thought he looked like he would be. Q mag did a pic once showin some rock stars in descending order of height. I remember Macca was about 3rd heighest of the ones they chose, Shane mcgowans quite tall too |
![]() |
|
| Bill | Apr 2 2009, 01:48 AM Post #266 |
|
Since this is the thread of pure drivel, facts are well and truly not checked. Bono is taller than Prince and shorter than John Cleese. Coincidentally, he's also right in the middle when it comes to being deliberately funny. |
| Put a puppet on it. | |
![]() |
|
| Mark Stephen Baker | Apr 2 2009, 07:51 AM Post #267 |
![]()
Administrator & Moderator
|
My washing machine is quite short. |
| |
![]() |
|
| Andy | Apr 2 2009, 08:28 AM Post #268 |
![]()
|
Do you call it Bono? |
![]() |
|
| Mark Stephen Baker | Apr 2 2009, 08:37 AM Post #269 |
![]()
Administrator & Moderator
|
No, Jeremy. |
| |
![]() |
|
| Mr.Mustard | Apr 2 2009, 10:50 AM Post #270 |
|
***BANNED***
|
everyone's taller than prince and shorter than john cleese! |
![]() |
|
| Mark Stephen Baker | Apr 2 2009, 01:58 PM Post #271 |
![]()
Administrator & Moderator
|
No, I'm actually taller than John Cleese but shorter than Prince. |
| |
![]() |
|
| Bill | Dec 30 2009, 05:05 PM Post #272 |
|
Headlines from Next Year Why wait for the tragically predictable? Apple drops the price of new iTablet by 25%, angering those who spent a week camped outside malls a month earlier in order to be the first to own them. Sean Hannity demands DNA sample from Barack Obama to prove that he is human. Also questions whether the president is really over 35 and from planet Earth. Microsoft assures users that upcoming release of SP1 will correct most issues with Windows 7. Footballer placed on good behaviour bond for urinating in public says, “I just want to put it behind me and get on with my life." Obama insists that despite the initial delay, Guantanamo Bay will be closed by January 2011. Sarah Palin supporters blame “personal attacks by the TV ratings system” for the cancellation of her Fox News talk show. The word “hashtag” added to Oxford English Dictionary. CNN launches new flagship program, “Stuff we found on the internet.” Owners of BitTorrent website abunchofthieves.com tell court “Who us? Steal? Never!” Dick Cheney claims that thinking critical thoughts about him will cause the ground to open and swallow you up. New social networking site moodring.com allows users to express themselves purely by colour. Rock band says they hope to tour Australia “possibly next year.” New Sacha Baron Cohen film to feature outrageous character who confuses unsuspecting Americans. Administration backpedals on Iraq withdrawal date. Speculation mounts about Abbott’s future as Liberal leader. New online game Third Life allows socially awkward Second Life avatars to live out their fantasies. Accusations of bribery and corruption in Olympic bidding process. Local council attempts to create physical space inspired by online networking models. Working title for the project is “a park.” |
| Put a puppet on it. | |
![]() |
|
| BeatleBarb | Dec 31 2009, 05:47 AM Post #273 |
![]()
|
Haha, Bill - I love it. Love my drivel. |
![]() |
|
| JeffLynnesBeard | Jan 2 2010, 03:44 PM Post #274 |
|
Administrator & Moderator
|
Prince Phillip was bloody uncomfortable. He'd been walking around with a rather stonking erection for at least three days and there was nothing he could do about it. He'd tried whacking it with a cold spoon, putting copious amounts of ice packs on it and even shutting it in the Royal Carriage's door, but to no avail. The bloody thing wouldn't go down and The Queen refused to go near it – or, indeed, him while he was still engorged. The worst thing was that the corgis seemed to think that he was offering them a meaty treat and he thanked his lucky stars that they were very small dogs and couldn't jump quite high enough. It had all started when he had decided to venture away from the BBC for the first time in his life and had, in boredom, clicked over to Channel 5, just after midnight. What he saw on his huge LCD screen would stay with him for the rest of his life... and so would his stiffy, he mused, sadly. He'd seen plenty of breasts before, but they were usually floppy and unattractive as they usually belonged to Lillibet or some bloody Aboriginal woman who was doing some bloody dance which he then had to pretend to be bloody interested in. Just then, there was a knock on the door. Jumping up (but not too quick – he'd learned his lesson after rising from the dinner table yesterday), he bounded over to the door to see who had come to visit him. Starved of company for days on end because of his “condition”, he was just happy to have someone to talk down to. Sorry, talk to. He opened the huge, oak door and, standing there in a mini-skirt, Sarah Ferguson smiled at him. Well, that was it. Phillip's manhood wilted like a dying flower and he became Mr. Floppy again in a matter of seconds. “Fergie!”, he grinned, “I have literally never been so happy to see you!”. “Really!?!”, she replied, “so, can I come in?” Phillip laughed heartily. “Don't push your bloody luck, bitch!”, he bellowed happily, and slammed the door in her face. Still beaming, he picked up his favourite magazine, “Bigot Monthly”, and settled down to have a nice, comfortable, un-erect read. "Send 'em all back home", he muttered, contentedly. |
| ...and in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make. | |
![]() |
|
| JeffLynnesBeard | Jan 2 2010, 03:45 PM Post #275 |
|
Administrator & Moderator
|
Frozen in time, held captive by the wilderness, looking like an icicle in a bakery, the legendary Bob Dylan takes another bite of his banana and tomato bagel whilst subconsciously grinning, crumbs cascading down his whiskery, powder-ridden chin, settling like snowflakes on his T-Shirt emblazoned with the logo, "Too cool for school, but I went anyway". He had it all, he had written some of the greatest songs in history, but could not beat his addiction to salted, buttered, frozen popcorn. The Betty Ford clinic had thrown everything they knew at him, including socks, rocks, frocks and clocks - but he blocks, absorbs the shocks and takes all the knocks... the wily old fox. Beer and pretzels rained down on the aging songsmith and he poked his tongue out lazily, catching splashes of the amber fluid whilst the pretzels bounced on the wooden floor as if jiving to some invisible music played on a fiddle by the devil himself. Naturally, there was nothing Bob could do apart from fade in and out of view repeatedly except to those looking at him through windows of their souls. He opened his grimy mouth, as if to speak, and twenty-thousand ears craned skyward, listening intently for any wisdom Bob may choose to deliver, but all they heard was the sound of a mosquito scratching its arse intently, a grasshopper humming 'Land of Hope and Glory' in its sleep and a small, silent, pronounced belch from the great man himself, which smelled of Feta cheese... and that was it. The show was over before it had even begun. The crowd were disappointed, naturally, but everyone agreed that it was distinctly preferable to most of the other live performances Bob had given in 2009. Bob Dylan will be appearing at a venue near YOU! But I honestly wouldn't bother. |
| ...and in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make. | |
![]() |
|
| JeffLynnesBeard | Jan 2 2010, 03:47 PM Post #276 |
|
Administrator & Moderator
|
The Secret Diary Of Kylie - A Teenage Spider Dear Diary, I hate my Mum. She does my head in. Apart from the fact that she ate my Dad, she never lets me do anything. It's always “tidy your web”, “have you cleaned your fangs?” and “come home before six”. It's not fair. My friends are allowed to stay up well late and I've got to come back for my tea. It's always flies as well. I bloody hate flies. My mates get to eat from McDonalds and KFC, their cockroaches are well juicy, but not me, no, it's always bloody flies. It's not fair. There was this time, yeah, when I saw Tracey down by the rose bush. She's well fit. She's got great legs. Well, the front six of them, anyway. The back two are a bit hairy – it's like she's never heard of a razor. Ha! Don't tell her I said that, though, 'cos she'll kill me. No, seriously, she'll actually kill me. She's not the sort of girl you talk to when she's hungry. Whenever I want to talk to her, I always bring her a little grub (Yeah, that's a spider joke, you may not appreciate it). Anyway, yeah, I saw Tracey down the rose bush and she's all, like, how's it going, and I'm all, like, yeah, top and then she winked at me, with four eyes. So I reckon she likes me! I dunno, though. I think I'm a bit fat. It's all those flies my Mum makes me finish. If Tracey doesn't go out with me it'll be all her fault. I hate her. Anyway, today was OK. I just hung out. Out of a window, actually, doing nothing. Doing nothing rocks. It's well boring, but it beats doing stuff. She's bloody calling me now for dinner. Bitch. I can't even write in peace. Oh Christ, now she's accusing me of looking at porn on the web and playing with myself. She's WELL embarrassing. Bet it's bloody flies for dinner again. I'm sick of flies. It's not fair! I didn't ask to be hatched! Laters. |
| ...and in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make. | |
![]() |
|
| JeffLynnesBeard | Jan 2 2010, 03:50 PM Post #277 |
|
Administrator & Moderator
|
Ask Auntie Beard - Britain's No.1 Agony Aunt! Dear Auntie Beard, I’ve been married to my lovely, devoted wife, Betty, for twenty five years and have never had any cause to think that she has been anything but faithful to me. However, yesterday I came home early from work just in time to see a handsome man I’d never seen before walking his dog past my house. When I went into my home, my wife just happened to be in bed with the ‘flu. Am I being paranoid in thinking that she may have had a hot and steamy affair with that man and that she contracted the viral symptoms as a cunning alibi? What should I do? Help! Derek, Ramsgate. Auntie Beard says; Oh Derek, Derek, Derek. Hell yeah, she might be cheating on you. Of course, if you ask her, she’ll probably deny it and tell you that you’re being silly. Don’t listen to her. Don’t give her the benefit of the doubt. Don’t even let it cross your mind that she’s telling the truth, because it’s a slight possibility that she isn’t. Has she got a cat or a dog? Kill it. Write a suicide note with the pet‘s blood, then kill yourself. That’ll teach her to be unfaithful to you. Bitch. Hope that has helped! Dear Auntie Beard, I’m 53. I’ve been a safe driver and a law-abiding citizen for all of my life, but I’ve been a bit silly and let my concentration slip, getting caught by a speed camera doing 37mph in a 30mph zone. It’s really annoyed me because I’m normally careful to keep to the speed limit but, because I’d just had an argument with the wife, I was thinking about that instead of keeping my speed down. Of course, it’s my fault entirely, but is there anything I can do to present the mitigating circumstances to the court and keep my clean license? Yours hoping, Simon, Cardiff. Auntie Beard says; Those f*cking w*nkers. Why aren’t they out catching real criminals, like muggers, rapists and MPs instead of trapping innocent motorists with their big brother bloody speed cameras? I’ll tell you why, it’s because it’s such a money maker. The Chief of Police doesn’t holiday in Skegness, does he? No, it’s Barbados, four times a year - on the money made from speed cameras. I blame the immigrants. I don’t know why, I just do. Anyway, Simon, this is what I’d do. I’d get a baseball bat, go to the speed camera and then smash the living shit out of it. That’ll teach the bastards. After that, go home and “sort the wife out” for making you speed in the first place, if you know what I mean. Bitch. Safe motoring in future! Dear Auntie Beard, I’m a 16-year old virgin and my 20-year old boyfriend is pressurising me for sex. I think I love him, but I really can’t be sure. We’ve only been together for a week. He says that if I don’t have sex with him, then there are plenty of “bitches” out there who will. I really don’t know what to do. Please help me. Jill, Reading. Auntie Beard says; 16 and still a virgin? Bloody hell, Jill, what are you, frigid or something? Your boyfriend is right, there are plenty of girls out there who will give him what he needs if you don’t. Nobody likes a prick tease, love. You’ve known him for a week, if you don’t know now, you never will. All your mates are doing it, the kids in the years below you at school are doing it, why shouldn’t you? Just make sure you use a condom. Unless he does you up the bum, in which case it doesn’t really matter. Your boyfriend seems like a nice, patient man - he’s waited this long, after all! He must have balls like watermelons! Why not just give him what he wants - you may even enjoy it, although that’s not really important. Have fun! Dear Auntie Beard, You’re a sore headed, bigoted, misogynist - and you’re probably not even a woman, are you? Laura, Cambridge. Auntie Beard says; I don’t know what you mean, dearie. Don’t worry, I get lots of hate mail from men-hating lesbians like you, so you haven’t dissuaded me from my “tell it like it is” style. Quite the opposite in fact. Try men for a change, love, although you’ll probably have to put a bag on your head first. Still, you don’t look at the mantelpiece while you’re stoking the fire! Thanks for writing! Got a problem you need Auntie Beard to help you with? For a sympathetic, helpful response, write to someone else, but if you want ill-advised, outdated advice, write to: Auntie Beard, c/o Jeremy Clarkson, Top Gear Studios, BBC, London. |
| ...and in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make. | |
![]() |
|
| Mark Stephen Baker | Jan 2 2010, 03:51 PM Post #278 |
![]()
Administrator & Moderator
|
'Cheese cake' said the pony butterer, as he was really only half his real age. |
| |
![]() |
|
| JeffLynnesBeard | Jan 2 2010, 03:56 PM Post #279 |
|
Administrator & Moderator
|
“Who ate my cucumber?” A play in the making by Andrew D. Sweeney Cast: Lord Montague (played by Peter Davidson) - the lord of the manor. Lady Flatulence (played by Tom Baker) - the lady of the manor. Baron Von Baron (played by Sylvester McCoy) - the baron of the manor. Baroness Von Baron (played by Su Pollard) - a chalet maid who wants to be a yellow coat Jeeves (played by Bryan Ferry) - the loyal servant with a penchant for buggery Kevin, the dog (played by Big Jeffrey, the antelope) - a large dog with a nervous disposition. Act One, Scene One Takes place in the library. Already present: Lady Flatulence (seated), Baroness Von Baron (taking part in a knobbly knees contest) and Kevin (balancing on top of the hat stand). Lord Montague: (entering) Ah, there you are, Lady Flatulence, in the library! Kevin: Woof! Lady Flatulence: Yes, I am, indeed, in the library. In the library, indeed I am, indeed. Baroness Von Baron: Hi-de-hi! Kevin: Woof! Lord Montague: Well, what are you doing in the library? Lady Flatulence: Eating my ice cream. Lord Montague: (raising his leg and farting) In the library? That’s most irregular! Kevin: Woof! Baroness Von Baron: Hi-de-hi! Jeeves: (enters the room via the window) You rang, M’lord? (audience applauds, after all, it is Bryan Ferry) Lady Flatulence: Ah, Jeeves. I have finished with my ice cream now. Can you dispose of the wafer cone? Jeeves: Certainly ma’am. (Take cone and feeds it to Kevin) Kevin: Hi-de-hi! Baroness Von Baron: Woof! Jeeves: Will that be all? Lord Montague: No. It will not. Jeeves, this simply won’t do. Jeeves: M’Lord? Lord Montague: Now you’re all here, I have a question to ask. Who ate my cucumber? Lady Flatulence faints. Jeeves: Oh dear. Kevin: Woof! Baroness Von Baron: I want to be a yellowcoat! Lord Montague: Yes, very good, Baroness, but that still doesn’t answer my question. Who ate my cucumber? Lady Flatulence faints. Jeeves: Oh dear. Kevin: Woof! Baroness Von Baron: Chuck ‘em in the pool! Lord Montague: Oh, f*ck the lot of you. It was only a f*cking cucumber anyway. (exits, riding an ostrich) Jeeves: (removing his trousers) Anyone for a spot of light sodomy? Kevin: Woof! Baroness Von Baron: Ooh, Miss Cathcart! Baron Von Baron: (enters) Hey everyone, I've just eaten a really tasty cucumber. Don't know who it belonged to, but I'm sure they won't mind. Kevin: Woof! Lady Flatulence faints. (end of act one, scene one) |
| ...and in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make. | |
![]() |
|
| BeatleBarb | Jan 2 2010, 04:53 PM Post #280 |
![]()
|
So much drivel at once - I can't contain myself, but why would I want to?? Poor Fergie, poor Bobby - over before it began...ha! |
![]() |
|
| JeffLynnesBeard | Jan 2 2010, 05:01 PM Post #281 |
|
Administrator & Moderator
|
Just catching up with some drivel I wrote last year which wasn't posted here! |
| ...and in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make. | |
![]() |
|
| Dorfliedot | Jan 2 2010, 05:16 PM Post #282 |
![]()
Beatlelicious
|
This is really going to take time to read. I think, I do it later.
|
![]() Add Glitter to your Photos | |
![]() |
|
| JeffLynnesBeard | Jan 6 2010, 08:53 PM Post #283 |
|
Administrator & Moderator
|
So I really like Phil Collins. Is that such a crime? He's pretty much my favourite artist. I love his music and I love him. He gets bad press all the time. I send letters to the newspapers begging them to take his genius seriously, but they don't listen, so I send them boxes of angry bees through the post. Is that such a crime? I love Phil Collins so much, I have a dog who I called Phil Collins. I never just call him Phil, though, that would be disrespectful. It's always, “Come here, Phil Collins. Sit, Phil Collins. Beg, Phil Collins. Stop licking your genitals, Phil Collins.” I also have a hamster called Phil Collins. I shaved his head so that he looks exactly like his namesake on the cover of “Face Value”. Is that such a crime? Phil Collins knows who I am. He has signed several of my albums, some tour programmes and my left buttock, which I haven't washed since. Is that such a crime? You know, the press slaughtered him for breaking up with his wife via fax. He was simply being economical! Do you know how much a phone call costs these days compared to a facsimile transmission? I never ring anyone any more. Of course, I don't know anyone to ring, but that's beside the point. I harassed his ex-wife for two years until I was finally imprisoned for threatening behaviour. Is that such a crime? I also got put in prison for singing “Sussudio” in public. Well, the actual charge was making love to a swan, but I was singing “Sussudio” at the time. Is that such a crime? You may think that's a little odd, but I couldn't very well sing “Easy Lover”, that wouldn't have been appropriate at all. Have YOU ever tried to make love to a swan? There are some people who may think that having sex with a swan is disgusting, but I was thinking about Phil Collins the whole of the time, honest. I wouldn't cheat on Phil Collins, not mentally, anyway. Anyway, I have to go now, to light all of the candles in my shrine to Phil Collins and to play “...But Seriously”. Then I'm going to kill all of Phil Collins' family because if I can't have him nobody can. Is that such a crime? |
| ...and in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make. | |
![]() |
|
| JeffLynnesBeard | Jan 7 2010, 04:35 PM Post #284 |
|
Administrator & Moderator
|
*** WANTED: Enthusiastic people to form best new band in the world, “The Broken Down Fridge”. *** Unique singer and talented spoons player seeks like-minded guitarist, bass player, drummer, french hornist, banjo player and kazooist for new concept band in the Smethwick/Dudley area of Birmingham. No previous experience required, in fact it would be preferable if you couldn't play your instrument very well at all. These so called "musicians" think they know it all, but they know NOTHING!!! I have written many things in my life, including some very good shopping lists, and need a band to help me realise my idea of songs containing only vowels. Classics such as “Ooaaee”, “Uuuuuaaaa!”, “Eeeeeeeeia Ooo Ooo E!?!” and “Ieieieieooooooooa? Iooaaaaaeeee!!!!!” are just waiting to be recorded with the right people. There is even a controversial track which contains a “y”, just to mess with people's minds. I imagine that one will be recorded, naked, in the Bull Ring Shopping Centre in Birmingham. Influences: Joe Dolce, Yoko Ono, Jona Lewie, Chas 'n' Dave, Pete Best, The Cheeky Girls, William Shatner and “The Laughing Gnome” by David Bowie, but none of his other work because it's fascist nonsense. Oh, and Status Quo. If you don't like the Quo then you can bloody well go away for all I care and that's swearing, that is! If this sounds like your kind of thing then please call: Raving Fred Kumquat on 0121 555 1253, but don't use the telephone. LET'S CHANGE THE WORLD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!? |
| ...and in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make. | |
![]() |
|
| moggy | Jan 8 2010, 05:28 PM Post #285 |
![]()
|
good stuff ....i cant write such stuff ...........just moaning drivel
|
|
When you cast your eyes upon the skylines, Of this once proud nation. Can you sense the fear and the hatred Growing in the hearts of its population. And our youth, oh youth, are being seduced , By the greedy hands of politics and half truths, Reared on a diet of prejudice and misinformation The beaten generation, Open your eyes , Open your imagination We're being sedated by the gasoline fumes, And hypnotised by the satellites Into believing what is good and what is right. | |
![]() |
|
| JeffLynnesBeard | Feb 26 2010, 05:09 PM Post #286 |
|
Administrator & Moderator
|
When Amanda arrived home early from work, she knew there was something not quite right as soon as she put her key in the lock and pushed the front door open. The house was eerily quiet and there was a very strange smell lingering in the air. She slipped her shoes off and called for her husband. “Tobias?” she offered, hesitantly. There was no answer, but she distinctly heard some movement upstairs. She climbed the plushly carpeted stairs tentatively, still listening out for some signs of life. Walking down the hallway, she eased the bedroom door open – and there he was. Her eyes opened wide with shock and disbelief. There was her husband of almost twenty years huddling over a camping gas stove, with a steaming pan of something bubbling away. “Tobias!” she exclaimed. Her balding husband wheeled around in panic. “Amanda!” he stuttered, “this isn't what it looks like!” Amanda was having none of it. “You're cooking sprouts again, aren't you? You said you were clean! How long has this been going on?” Tobias looked panicked and sheepish as the round, green vegetables simmered in the saucepan. His head bowed. “Yes. I'm cooking Brussels Sprouts. I'm sorry, I just needed a fix. I can give up any time, though!” Furious with anger and disappointment, Amanda lashed out, kicking over the saucepan, sending the little green vegetables flying across the floor like the dismembered testicles of alien beings. “I've stood by you thick and thin, Tobias, but this is the last straw. Sprouts! Again! In my bedroom and... wait... is that my best saucepan?” Tobias, wild eyed with fear, attempted to explain... “Well, yes, I didn't mean to... it was... just... please, Amanda, don't leave me.” Almost red with rage, Amanda didn't wait to hear any further explanation. “I am leaving you, Tobias... and I'm taking the carrots!” Tobias flew to his feet. “You can't just take the carrots like that – I'll fight you every step of the way! I'll take you to court!”. Amanda, knowing full well that no court would grant custody of carrots to someone with a severe sprout addiction just tossed her head backwards and laughed scornfully. “I'd like to see you try! Goodbye, Tobias, I'll see you in court!” and she flounced out, like a molested Osprey. Sobbing gently, his chest heaving and gasping, Tobias started to slowly eat the scattered sprouts from the carpeted floor, picking the carpet fluff and hairs off as he went. “Why?” he lamented, “Why?!?” The sprouts did not and could not reply, but the broccoli in the fridge did allow itself a rueful smile. |
| ...and in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make. | |
![]() |
|
| Monkey Chow | Feb 26 2010, 05:53 PM Post #287 |
|
beep beep m beep beep yeah
|
And that's how Brian Wilson wrote Pet Sounds. |
| Everybody's got something to hide 'cept for me and my monkey. | |
![]() |
|
| BeatleBarb | Feb 27 2010, 06:13 PM Post #288 |
![]()
|
Ha....this is usually the reaction I get after I cook my favorites veggies - the dreaded and stinky but lovable brussel sprouts! |
![]() |
|
| « Previous Topic · Things We Said Today · Next Topic » |




















good stuff ....i cant write such stuff ...........just moaning drivel

2:21 PM Jul 11