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And Now for Something Completely Different...Monty Python Thread v.2


Citizen of the World
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In fact, I think you're six foot five, aren't you, Ibanez? :tsk:

The entrance to this thread is guarded by an Ibanez so foul, so cruel that no man yet has fought with him and lived! Bones of four fifty men lie strewn about his lair. So, brave Citizen and blackhawkrush, if you do doubt your courage or your strength, come no further, for death awaits you both with nasty big pointy teeth.

But what of IbanezJem, the most fearfully dangerous man in the world! The man who could destroy entire galaxies with his wrist, the man who could tear fruit machines apart with his eyeballs... He had not been idle! In fact he had fallen in love... with the lady who 'does' for Mrs Entrail...

Her behaviour did seem at the time to me, who was after all was there to see, to be a little odd

And at the line, it's Mrs. Casey who's got it by a short head from Mrs. Penguin in second place, Mrs. Parkinson in third, Mrs. Rudd, Mrs. Colyer, Ms. Warner, and there's lady who 'does' for Mrs. Entrail who's remained unswapped. :wtf:

Likes games, eh? Knew she would, knew she would. Likes games, eh? She's been around a bit, been around?

Oh yeah, yeah. I'll be able to look after 'er all right sport, eh, know what I mean, eh emggh!

All right, I'm only five foot ten. All right, my posture is bad, all right, I slump in my chair. But I've had more women than either of you two! I've had half bloody Norway!

But there's one in Trondheim who can put her....

Now then Citizen, when did you first start finding difficult to finish sentences? It must be awful. Our method is to reassure the patient by recreating normal conditions. :bitchslap:

Normally considered slow, he's incredibly fast as he wanders aimlessly around.

I wandered lonely as a cloud

That floats on high over vales and hills

When all at once I saw a crowd

A host of golden worker ants

Hello formicidophiles! Before the blood and guts that you're waiting to see, let's have a look at the anatomy of the little Citizen.

It's perfectly easy for somebody just to come along here to TRF simply claiming that they have a bit to spare in the botty department, but the point is Mr. Citizen, New World Women need proof. :popcorn:

:moon: Tudsz irányítani az állomásra?

Non conosgeve parliamente, signor devo me parlo sono Irallano di Napoil quando il habitare de Milano.

Shut up you eyeties!

Who is-a Geoff Boycott?

the Swedish mammal abuser and part-time radiator.

Yes, that's true. But to be perfectly frank I... I like my meat a little more lean. I'd rather eat blackhawkrush.

He's superb. His gobbing is consistent and accurate
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Did it worry you that he, for example, stitched people's legs together?

I'm afraid I cannot comment on that until it's been officially hushed up. :ph34r:

Wait a minute, there's something going on here.
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Did it worry you that he, for example, stitched people's legs together?

I'm afraid I cannot comment on that until it's been officially hushed up. :ph34r:

Wait a minute, there's something going on here.

It was much like any other summer's day in Northampton, and IbanezJem, a file clerk at an insurance company, was on his way to work as usual when...nothing happened. Scarcely able to believe his eyes IbanezJem looked down. But one glanced confirmed his suspicions. Behind a bush on the side of the road, there was no severed arm, no dismembered trunk of a man in his late fifties, no head in a bag,, nothing, not a sock. For IbanezJem, this was not to be the start of any trail of events which would not, in no time at all, involve him in neither a tangled knot of suspicion nor any web of lies, which would, had he been not uninvolved, surely have led to no other place than the central criminal court of the Old Bailey.
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Did it worry you that he, for example, stitched people's legs together?

I'm afraid I cannot comment on that until it's been officially hushed up. :ph34r:

Wait a minute, there's something going on here.

It was much like any other summer's day in Northampton, and IbanezJem, a file clerk at an insurance company, was on his way to work as usual when...nothing happened. Scarcely able to believe his eyes IbanezJem looked down. But one glanced confirmed his suspicions. Behind a bush on the side of the road, there was no severed arm, no dismembered trunk of a man in his late fifties, no head in a bag,, nothing, not a sock. For IbanezJem, this was not to be the start of any trail of events which would not, in no time at all, involve him in neither a tangled knot of suspicion nor any web of lies, which would, had he been not uninvolved, surely have led to no other place than the central criminal court of the Old Bailey.

I mean, Alfred Hitchcock, who's supposed to be so bloody wonderful, padded that out to one and a half hours...lost all the tension. :wtf:
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Did it worry you that he, for example, stitched people's legs together?

I'm afraid I cannot comment on that until it's been officially hushed up. :ph34r:

Wait a minute, there's something going on here.

It was much like any other summer's day in Northampton, and IbanezJem, a file clerk at an insurance company, was on his way to work as usual when...nothing happened. Scarcely able to believe his eyes IbanezJem looked down. But one glanced confirmed his suspicions. Behind a bush on the side of the road, there was no severed arm, no dismembered trunk of a man in his late fifties, no head in a bag,, nothing, not a sock. For IbanezJem, this was not to be the start of any trail of events which would not, in no time at all, involve him in neither a tangled knot of suspicion nor any web of lies, which would, had he been not uninvolved, surely have led to no other place than the central criminal court of the Old Bailey.

I mean, Alfred Hitchcock, who's supposed to be so bloody wonderful, padded that out to one and a half hours...lost all the tension. :wtf:

But the real question remains. What is the solution, if any, to this problem? What can we do? What am I saying? Why am I sitting in this chair? Why am I on this thread? And what am I going to say next? Edited by IbanezJem
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Did it worry you that he, for example, stitched people's legs together?

I'm afraid I cannot comment on that until it's been officially hushed up. :ph34r:

Wait a minute, there's something going on here.

It was much like any other summer's day in Northampton, and IbanezJem, a file clerk at an insurance company, was on his way to work as usual when...nothing happened. Scarcely able to believe his eyes IbanezJem looked down. But one glanced confirmed his suspicions. Behind a bush on the side of the road, there was no severed arm, no dismembered trunk of a man in his late fifties, no head in a bag,, nothing, not a sock. For IbanezJem, this was not to be the start of any trail of events which would not, in no time at all, involve him in neither a tangled knot of suspicion nor any web of lies, which would, had he been not uninvolved, surely have led to no other place than the central criminal court of the Old Bailey.

I mean, Alfred Hitchcock, who's supposed to be so bloody wonderful, padded that out to one and a half hours...lost all the tension. :wtf:

But the real question remains. What is the solution, if any, to this problem? What can we do? What am I saying? Why am I sitting in this chair? Why am I on this thread? And what am I going to say next?

I cannot tell, suffice to say is one of the words the Knights of Ni cannot hear.
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Did it worry you that he, for example, stitched people's legs together?

I'm afraid I cannot comment on that until it's been officially hushed up. :ph34r:

Wait a minute, there's something going on here.

It was much like any other summer's day in Northampton, and IbanezJem, a file clerk at an insurance company, was on his way to work as usual when...nothing happened. Scarcely able to believe his eyes IbanezJem looked down. But one glanced confirmed his suspicions. Behind a bush on the side of the road, there was no severed arm, no dismembered trunk of a man in his late fifties, no head in a bag,, nothing, not a sock. For IbanezJem, this was not to be the start of any trail of events which would not, in no time at all, involve him in neither a tangled knot of suspicion nor any web of lies, which would, had he been not uninvolved, surely have led to no other place than the central criminal court of the Old Bailey.

I mean, Alfred Hitchcock, who's supposed to be so bloody wonderful, padded that out to one and a half hours...lost all the tension. :wtf:

But the real question remains. What is the solution, if any, to this problem? What can we do? What am I saying? Why am I sitting in this chair? Why am I on this thread? And what am I going to say next?

I cannot tell, suffice to say is one of the words the Knights of Ni cannot hear.

Hear. Can't hear. Deaf! Call the next def... :codger:
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Did it worry you that he, for example, stitched people's legs together?

I'm afraid I cannot comment on that until it's been officially hushed up. :ph34r:

Wait a minute, there's something going on here.

It was much like any other summer's day in Northampton, and IbanezJem, a file clerk at an insurance company, was on his way to work as usual when...nothing happened. Scarcely able to believe his eyes IbanezJem looked down. But one glanced confirmed his suspicions. Behind a bush on the side of the road, there was no severed arm, no dismembered trunk of a man in his late fifties, no head in a bag,, nothing, not a sock. For IbanezJem, this was not to be the start of any trail of events which would not, in no time at all, involve him in neither a tangled knot of suspicion nor any web of lies, which would, had he been not uninvolved, surely have led to no other place than the central criminal court of the Old Bailey.

I mean, Alfred Hitchcock, who's supposed to be so bloody wonderful, padded that out to one and a half hours...lost all the tension. :wtf:

But the real question remains. What is the solution, if any, to this problem? What can we do? What am I saying? Why am I sitting in this chair? Why am I on this thread? And what am I going to say next?

I cannot tell, suffice to say is one of the words the Knights of Ni cannot hear.

Hear. Can't hear. Deaf! Call the next def... :codger:

Call Erik Njorl, son of Frothgar, brother of Hangnor...
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Did it worry you that he, for example, stitched people's legs together?

I'm afraid I cannot comment on that until it's been officially hushed up. :ph34r:

Wait a minute, there's something going on here.

It was much like any other summer's day in Northampton, and IbanezJem, a file clerk at an insurance company, was on his way to work as usual when...nothing happened. Scarcely able to believe his eyes IbanezJem looked down. But one glanced confirmed his suspicions. Behind a bush on the side of the road, there was no severed arm, no dismembered trunk of a man in his late fifties, no head in a bag,, nothing, not a sock. For IbanezJem, this was not to be the start of any trail of events which would not, in no time at all, involve him in neither a tangled knot of suspicion nor any web of lies, which would, had he been not uninvolved, surely have led to no other place than the central criminal court of the Old Bailey.

I mean, Alfred Hitchcock, who's supposed to be so bloody wonderful, padded that out to one and a half hours...lost all the tension. :wtf:

But the real question remains. What is the solution, if any, to this problem? What can we do? What am I saying? Why am I sitting in this chair? Why am I on this thread? And what am I going to say next?

I cannot tell, suffice to say is one of the words the Knights of Ni cannot hear.

Hear. Can't hear. Deaf! Call the next def... :codger:

Call Erik Njorl, son of Frothgar, brother of Hangnor...

Not if we're going to remain members of the fastest growing religion in the world, my boy.
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Did it worry you that he, for example, stitched people's legs together?

I'm afraid I cannot comment on that until it's been officially hushed up. :ph34r:

Wait a minute, there's something going on here.

It was much like any other summer's day in Northampton, and IbanezJem, a file clerk at an insurance company, was on his way to work as usual when...nothing happened. Scarcely able to believe his eyes IbanezJem looked down. But one glanced confirmed his suspicions. Behind a bush on the side of the road, there was no severed arm, no dismembered trunk of a man in his late fifties, no head in a bag,, nothing, not a sock. For IbanezJem, this was not to be the start of any trail of events which would not, in no time at all, involve him in neither a tangled knot of suspicion nor any web of lies, which would, had he been not uninvolved, surely have led to no other place than the central criminal court of the Old Bailey.

I mean, Alfred Hitchcock, who's supposed to be so bloody wonderful, padded that out to one and a half hours...lost all the tension. :wtf:

But the real question remains. What is the solution, if any, to this problem? What can we do? What am I saying? Why am I sitting in this chair? Why am I on this thread? And what am I going to say next?

I cannot tell, suffice to say is one of the words the Knights of Ni cannot hear.

Hear. Can't hear. Deaf! Call the next def... :codger:

Call Erik Njorl, son of Frothgar, brother of Hangnor...

Not if we're going to remain members of the fastest growing religion in the world, my boy.

Our religion is the first Church to cater for the naughty type of person. If you'd like a bit of 'love-your-neighbour' - and who doesn't now and again - then see Vera and Ciceley during the hymns.
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Did it worry you that he, for example, stitched people's legs together?

I'm afraid I cannot comment on that until it's been officially hushed up. :ph34r:

Wait a minute, there's something going on here.

It was much like any other summer's day in Northampton, and IbanezJem, a file clerk at an insurance company, was on his way to work as usual when...nothing happened. Scarcely able to believe his eyes IbanezJem looked down. But one glanced confirmed his suspicions. Behind a bush on the side of the road, there was no severed arm, no dismembered trunk of a man in his late fifties, no head in a bag,, nothing, not a sock. For IbanezJem, this was not to be the start of any trail of events which would not, in no time at all, involve him in neither a tangled knot of suspicion nor any web of lies, which would, had he been not uninvolved, surely have led to no other place than the central criminal court of the Old Bailey.

I mean, Alfred Hitchcock, who's supposed to be so bloody wonderful, padded that out to one and a half hours...lost all the tension. :wtf:

But the real question remains. What is the solution, if any, to this problem? What can we do? What am I saying? Why am I sitting in this chair? Why am I on this thread? And what am I going to say next?

I cannot tell, suffice to say is one of the words the Knights of Ni cannot hear.

Hear. Can't hear. Deaf! Call the next def... :codger:

Call Erik Njorl, son of Frothgar, brother of Hangnor...

Not if we're going to remain members of the fastest growing religion in the world, my boy.

Our religion is the first Church to cater for the naughty type of person. If you'd like a bit of 'love-your-neighbour' - and who doesn't now and again - then see Vera and Ciceley during the hymns.

...And spotteth twice they the camels before the third hour, and so, the Midianites went forth to Ram Gilead in Kadesh Bilgemath, by Shor Ethra Regalion, to the house of Gash-Bil-Bethuel-Bazda, he who brought the butter dish to Balshazar and the tent peg to the house of Rashomon, and there slew they the goats, yea, and placed they the bits in little pots. Here endeth the lesson.
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Did it worry you that he, for example, stitched people's legs together?

I'm afraid I cannot comment on that until it's been officially hushed up. :ph34r:

Wait a minute, there's something going on here.

It was much like any other summer's day in Northampton, and IbanezJem, a file clerk at an insurance company, was on his way to work as usual when...nothing happened. Scarcely able to believe his eyes IbanezJem looked down. But one glanced confirmed his suspicions. Behind a bush on the side of the road, there was no severed arm, no dismembered trunk of a man in his late fifties, no head in a bag,, nothing, not a sock. For IbanezJem, this was not to be the start of any trail of events which would not, in no time at all, involve him in neither a tangled knot of suspicion nor any web of lies, which would, had he been not uninvolved, surely have led to no other place than the central criminal court of the Old Bailey.

I mean, Alfred Hitchcock, who's supposed to be so bloody wonderful, padded that out to one and a half hours...lost all the tension. :wtf:

But the real question remains. What is the solution, if any, to this problem? What can we do? What am I saying? Why am I sitting in this chair? Why am I on this thread? And what am I going to say next?

I cannot tell, suffice to say is one of the words the Knights of Ni cannot hear.

Hear. Can't hear. Deaf! Call the next def... :codger:

Call Erik Njorl, son of Frothgar, brother of Hangnor...

Not if we're going to remain members of the fastest growing religion in the world, my boy.

Our religion is the first Church to cater for the naughty type of person. If you'd like a bit of 'love-your-neighbour' - and who doesn't now and again - then see Vera and Ciceley during the hymns.

...And spotteth twice they the camels before the third hour, and so, the Midianites went forth to Ram Gilead in Kadesh Bilgemath, by Shor Ethra Regalion, to the house of Gash-Bil-Bethuel-Bazda, he who brought the butter dish to Balshazar and the tent peg to the house of Rashomon, and there slew they the goats, yea, and placed they the bits in little pots. Here endeth the lesson.

Bitte mein Herr. Was ist das Won fur Mittelschmerz? :huh:
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Did it worry you that he, for example, stitched people's legs together?

I'm afraid I cannot comment on that until it's been officially hushed up. :ph34r:

Wait a minute, there's something going on here.

It was much like any other summer's day in Northampton, and IbanezJem, a file clerk at an insurance company, was on his way to work as usual when...nothing happened. Scarcely able to believe his eyes IbanezJem looked down. But one glanced confirmed his suspicions. Behind a bush on the side of the road, there was no severed arm, no dismembered trunk of a man in his late fifties, no head in a bag,, nothing, not a sock. For IbanezJem, this was not to be the start of any trail of events which would not, in no time at all, involve him in neither a tangled knot of suspicion nor any web of lies, which would, had he been not uninvolved, surely have led to no other place than the central criminal court of the Old Bailey.

I mean, Alfred Hitchcock, who's supposed to be so bloody wonderful, padded that out to one and a half hours...lost all the tension. :wtf:

But the real question remains. What is the solution, if any, to this problem? What can we do? What am I saying? Why am I sitting in this chair? Why am I on this thread? And what am I going to say next?

I cannot tell, suffice to say is one of the words the Knights of Ni cannot hear.

Hear. Can't hear. Deaf! Call the next def... :codger:

Call Erik Njorl, son of Frothgar, brother of Hangnor...

Not if we're going to remain members of the fastest growing religion in the world, my boy.

Our religion is the first Church to cater for the naughty type of person. If you'd like a bit of 'love-your-neighbour' - and who doesn't now and again - then see Vera and Ciceley during the hymns.

...And spotteth twice they the camels before the third hour, and so, the Midianites went forth to Ram Gilead in Kadesh Bilgemath, by Shor Ethra Regalion, to the house of Gash-Bil-Bethuel-Bazda, he who brought the butter dish to Balshazar and the tent peg to the house of Rashomon, and there slew they the goats, yea, and placed they the bits in little pots. Here endeth the lesson.

Bitte mein Herr. Was ist das Won fur Mittelschmerz? :huh:

It is a great honour to have so many members of the Government dead in our forum.
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Did it worry you that he, for example, stitched people's legs together?

I'm afraid I cannot comment on that until it's been officially hushed up. :ph34r:

Wait a minute, there's something going on here.

It was much like any other summer's day in Northampton, and IbanezJem, a file clerk at an insurance company, was on his way to work as usual when...nothing happened. Scarcely able to believe his eyes IbanezJem looked down. But one glanced confirmed his suspicions. Behind a bush on the side of the road, there was no severed arm, no dismembered trunk of a man in his late fifties, no head in a bag,, nothing, not a sock. For IbanezJem, this was not to be the start of any trail of events which would not, in no time at all, involve him in neither a tangled knot of suspicion nor any web of lies, which would, had he been not uninvolved, surely have led to no other place than the central criminal court of the Old Bailey.

I mean, Alfred Hitchcock, who's supposed to be so bloody wonderful, padded that out to one and a half hours...lost all the tension. :wtf:

But the real question remains. What is the solution, if any, to this problem? What can we do? What am I saying? Why am I sitting in this chair? Why am I on this thread? And what am I going to say next?

I cannot tell, suffice to say is one of the words the Knights of Ni cannot hear.

Hear. Can't hear. Deaf! Call the next def... :codger:

Call Erik Njorl, son of Frothgar, brother of Hangnor...

Not if we're going to remain members of the fastest growing religion in the world, my boy.

Our religion is the first Church to cater for the naughty type of person. If you'd like a bit of 'love-your-neighbour' - and who doesn't now and again - then see Vera and Ciceley during the hymns.

...And spotteth twice they the camels before the third hour, and so, the Midianites went forth to Ram Gilead in Kadesh Bilgemath, by Shor Ethra Regalion, to the house of Gash-Bil-Bethuel-Bazda, he who brought the butter dish to Balshazar and the tent peg to the house of Rashomon, and there slew they the goats, yea, and placed they the bits in little pots. Here endeth the lesson.

Bitte mein Herr. Was ist das Won fur Mittelschmerz? :huh:

It is a great honour to have so many members of the Government dead in our forum.

Who's that there? Must be a King...he hasn't got shit all over him
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Did it worry you that he, for example, stitched people's legs together?

I'm afraid I cannot comment on that until it's been officially hushed up. :ph34r:

Wait a minute, there's something going on here.

It was much like any other summer's day in Northampton, and IbanezJem, a file clerk at an insurance company, was on his way to work as usual when...nothing happened. Scarcely able to believe his eyes IbanezJem looked down. But one glanced confirmed his suspicions. Behind a bush on the side of the road, there was no severed arm, no dismembered trunk of a man in his late fifties, no head in a bag,, nothing, not a sock. For IbanezJem, this was not to be the start of any trail of events which would not, in no time at all, involve him in neither a tangled knot of suspicion nor any web of lies, which would, had he been not uninvolved, surely have led to no other place than the central criminal court of the Old Bailey.

I mean, Alfred Hitchcock, who's supposed to be so bloody wonderful, padded that out to one and a half hours...lost all the tension. :wtf:

But the real question remains. What is the solution, if any, to this problem? What can we do? What am I saying? Why am I sitting in this chair? Why am I on this thread? And what am I going to say next?

I cannot tell, suffice to say is one of the words the Knights of Ni cannot hear.

Hear. Can't hear. Deaf! Call the next def... :codger:

Call Erik Njorl, son of Frothgar, brother of Hangnor...

Not if we're going to remain members of the fastest growing religion in the world, my boy.

Our religion is the first Church to cater for the naughty type of person. If you'd like a bit of 'love-your-neighbour' - and who doesn't now and again - then see Vera and Ciceley during the hymns.

...And spotteth twice they the camels before the third hour, and so, the Midianites went forth to Ram Gilead in Kadesh Bilgemath, by Shor Ethra Regalion, to the house of Gash-Bil-Bethuel-Bazda, he who brought the butter dish to Balshazar and the tent peg to the house of Rashomon, and there slew they the goats, yea, and placed they the bits in little pots. Here endeth the lesson.

Bitte mein Herr. Was ist das Won fur Mittelschmerz? :huh:

It is a great honour to have so many members of the Government dead in our forum.

Who's that there? Must be a King...he hasn't got shit all over him

It's not! It's an extra-terrestrial being! :scared: Agggh!
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Did it worry you that he, for example, stitched people's legs together?

I'm afraid I cannot comment on that until it's been officially hushed up. :ph34r:

Wait a minute, there's something going on here.

It was much like any other summer's day in Northampton, and IbanezJem, a file clerk at an insurance company, was on his way to work as usual when...nothing happened. Scarcely able to believe his eyes IbanezJem looked down. But one glanced confirmed his suspicions. Behind a bush on the side of the road, there was no severed arm, no dismembered trunk of a man in his late fifties, no head in a bag,, nothing, not a sock. For IbanezJem, this was not to be the start of any trail of events which would not, in no time at all, involve him in neither a tangled knot of suspicion nor any web of lies, which would, had he been not uninvolved, surely have led to no other place than the central criminal court of the Old Bailey.

I mean, Alfred Hitchcock, who's supposed to be so bloody wonderful, padded that out to one and a half hours...lost all the tension. :wtf:

But the real question remains. What is the solution, if any, to this problem? What can we do? What am I saying? Why am I sitting in this chair? Why am I on this thread? And what am I going to say next?

I cannot tell, suffice to say is one of the words the Knights of Ni cannot hear.

Hear. Can't hear. Deaf! Call the next def... :codger:

Call Erik Njorl, son of Frothgar, brother of Hangnor...

Not if we're going to remain members of the fastest growing religion in the world, my boy.

Our religion is the first Church to cater for the naughty type of person. If you'd like a bit of 'love-your-neighbour' - and who doesn't now and again - then see Vera and Ciceley during the hymns.

...And spotteth twice they the camels before the third hour, and so, the Midianites went forth to Ram Gilead in Kadesh Bilgemath, by Shor Ethra Regalion, to the house of Gash-Bil-Bethuel-Bazda, he who brought the butter dish to Balshazar and the tent peg to the house of Rashomon, and there slew they the goats, yea, and placed they the bits in little pots. Here endeth the lesson.

Bitte mein Herr. Was ist das Won fur Mittelschmerz? :huh:

It is a great honour to have so many members of the Government dead in our forum.

Who's that there? Must be a King...he hasn't got shit all over him

It's not! It's an extra-terrestrial being! :scared: Agggh!

He's good! You could learn a thing or two from him. Right now you two me old beauties, you are nicked.
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Did it worry you that he, for example, stitched people's legs together?

I'm afraid I cannot comment on that until it's been officially hushed up. :ph34r:

Wait a minute, there's something going on here.

It was much like any other summer's day in Northampton, and IbanezJem, a file clerk at an insurance company, was on his way to work as usual when...nothing happened. Scarcely able to believe his eyes IbanezJem looked down. But one glanced confirmed his suspicions. Behind a bush on the side of the road, there was no severed arm, no dismembered trunk of a man in his late fifties, no head in a bag,, nothing, not a sock. For IbanezJem, this was not to be the start of any trail of events which would not, in no time at all, involve him in neither a tangled knot of suspicion nor any web of lies, which would, had he been not uninvolved, surely have led to no other place than the central criminal court of the Old Bailey.

I mean, Alfred Hitchcock, who's supposed to be so bloody wonderful, padded that out to one and a half hours...lost all the tension. :wtf:

But the real question remains. What is the solution, if any, to this problem? What can we do? What am I saying? Why am I sitting in this chair? Why am I on this thread? And what am I going to say next?

I cannot tell, suffice to say is one of the words the Knights of Ni cannot hear.

Hear. Can't hear. Deaf! Call the next def... :codger:

Call Erik Njorl, son of Frothgar, brother of Hangnor...

Not if we're going to remain members of the fastest growing religion in the world, my boy.

Our religion is the first Church to cater for the naughty type of person. If you'd like a bit of 'love-your-neighbour' - and who doesn't now and again - then see Vera and Ciceley during the hymns.

...And spotteth twice they the camels before the third hour, and so, the Midianites went forth to Ram Gilead in Kadesh Bilgemath, by Shor Ethra Regalion, to the house of Gash-Bil-Bethuel-Bazda, he who brought the butter dish to Balshazar and the tent peg to the house of Rashomon, and there slew they the goats, yea, and placed they the bits in little pots. Here endeth the lesson.

Bitte mein Herr. Was ist das Won fur Mittelschmerz? :huh:

It is a great honour to have so many members of the Government dead in our forum.

Who's that there? Must be a King...he hasn't got shit all over him

It's not! It's an extra-terrestrial being! :scared: Agggh!

He's good! You could learn a thing or two from him. Right now you two me old beauties, you are nicked.

The Rush Forum would like to apologize to the police about the character of Police Constable IbanezJem. He was not meant to represent the average police officer.
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Did it worry you that he, for example, stitched people's legs together?

I'm afraid I cannot comment on that until it's been officially hushed up. :ph34r:

Wait a minute, there's something going on here.

It was much like any other summer's day in Northampton, and IbanezJem, a file clerk at an insurance company, was on his way to work as usual when...nothing happened. Scarcely able to believe his eyes IbanezJem looked down. But one glanced confirmed his suspicions. Behind a bush on the side of the road, there was no severed arm, no dismembered trunk of a man in his late fifties, no head in a bag,, nothing, not a sock. For IbanezJem, this was not to be the start of any trail of events which would not, in no time at all, involve him in neither a tangled knot of suspicion nor any web of lies, which would, had he been not uninvolved, surely have led to no other place than the central criminal court of the Old Bailey.

I mean, Alfred Hitchcock, who's supposed to be so bloody wonderful, padded that out to one and a half hours...lost all the tension. :wtf:

But the real question remains. What is the solution, if any, to this problem? What can we do? What am I saying? Why am I sitting in this chair? Why am I on this thread? And what am I going to say next?

I cannot tell, suffice to say is one of the words the Knights of Ni cannot hear.

Hear. Can't hear. Deaf! Call the next def... :codger:

Call Erik Njorl, son of Frothgar, brother of Hangnor...

Not if we're going to remain members of the fastest growing religion in the world, my boy.

Our religion is the first Church to cater for the naughty type of person. If you'd like a bit of 'love-your-neighbour' - and who doesn't now and again - then see Vera and Ciceley during the hymns.

...And spotteth twice they the camels before the third hour, and so, the Midianites went forth to Ram Gilead in Kadesh Bilgemath, by Shor Ethra Regalion, to the house of Gash-Bil-Bethuel-Bazda, he who brought the butter dish to Balshazar and the tent peg to the house of Rashomon, and there slew they the goats, yea, and placed they the bits in little pots. Here endeth the lesson.

Bitte mein Herr. Was ist das Won fur Mittelschmerz? :huh:

It is a great honour to have so many members of the Government dead in our forum.

Who's that there? Must be a King...he hasn't got shit all over him

It's not! It's an extra-terrestrial being! :scared: Agggh!

He's good! You could learn a thing or two from him. Right now you two me old beauties, you are nicked.

The Rush Forum would like to apologize to the police about the character of Police Constable IbanezJem. He was not meant to represent the average police officer.

Mind you I didn't join the police force just to wear the helmets you know. That just happens to be one of the little perks. There are plenty of jobs where I could have worn a helmet, but not such a nice helmet. This helmet, I think, beats even some of the more elaborate helmets worn by the Tsar's private army, the so-called Axi red warriors. You know about them?
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Did it worry you that he, for example, stitched people's legs together?

I'm afraid I cannot comment on that until it's been officially hushed up. :ph34r:

Wait a minute, there's something going on here.

It was much like any other summer's day in Northampton, and IbanezJem, a file clerk at an insurance company, was on his way to work as usual when...nothing happened. Scarcely able to believe his eyes IbanezJem looked down. But one glanced confirmed his suspicions. Behind a bush on the side of the road, there was no severed arm, no dismembered trunk of a man in his late fifties, no head in a bag,, nothing, not a sock. For IbanezJem, this was not to be the start of any trail of events which would not, in no time at all, involve him in neither a tangled knot of suspicion nor any web of lies, which would, had he been not uninvolved, surely have led to no other place than the central criminal court of the Old Bailey.

I mean, Alfred Hitchcock, who's supposed to be so bloody wonderful, padded that out to one and a half hours...lost all the tension. :wtf:

But the real question remains. What is the solution, if any, to this problem? What can we do? What am I saying? Why am I sitting in this chair? Why am I on this thread? And what am I going to say next?

I cannot tell, suffice to say is one of the words the Knights of Ni cannot hear.

Hear. Can't hear. Deaf! Call the next def... :codger:

Call Erik Njorl, son of Frothgar, brother of Hangnor...

Not if we're going to remain members of the fastest growing religion in the world, my boy.

Our religion is the first Church to cater for the naughty type of person. If you'd like a bit of 'love-your-neighbour' - and who doesn't now and again - then see Vera and Ciceley during the hymns.

...And spotteth twice they the camels before the third hour, and so, the Midianites went forth to Ram Gilead in Kadesh Bilgemath, by Shor Ethra Regalion, to the house of Gash-Bil-Bethuel-Bazda, he who brought the butter dish to Balshazar and the tent peg to the house of Rashomon, and there slew they the goats, yea, and placed they the bits in little pots. Here endeth the lesson.

Bitte mein Herr. Was ist das Won fur Mittelschmerz? :huh:

It is a great honour to have so many members of the Government dead in our forum.

Who's that there? Must be a King...he hasn't got shit all over him

It's not! It's an extra-terrestrial being! :scared: Agggh!

He's good! You could learn a thing or two from him. Right now you two me old beauties, you are nicked.

The Rush Forum would like to apologize to the police about the character of Police Constable IbanezJem. He was not meant to represent the average police officer.

Mind you I didn't join the police force just to wear the helmets you know. That just happens to be one of the little perks. There are plenty of jobs where I could have worn a helmet, but not such a nice helmet. This helmet, I think, beats even some of the more elaborate helmets worn by the Tsar's private army, the so-called Axi red warriors. You know about them?

don't worry about me IbanezJemmy boy, I know all about one-night stands.
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Did it worry you that he, for example, stitched people's legs together?

I'm afraid I cannot comment on that until it's been officially hushed up. :ph34r:

Wait a minute, there's something going on here.

It was much like any other summer's day in Northampton, and IbanezJem, a file clerk at an insurance company, was on his way to work as usual when...nothing happened. Scarcely able to believe his eyes IbanezJem looked down. But one glanced confirmed his suspicions. Behind a bush on the side of the road, there was no severed arm, no dismembered trunk of a man in his late fifties, no head in a bag,, nothing, not a sock. For IbanezJem, this was not to be the start of any trail of events which would not, in no time at all, involve him in neither a tangled knot of suspicion nor any web of lies, which would, had he been not uninvolved, surely have led to no other place than the central criminal court of the Old Bailey.

I mean, Alfred Hitchcock, who's supposed to be so bloody wonderful, padded that out to one and a half hours...lost all the tension. :wtf:

But the real question remains. What is the solution, if any, to this problem? What can we do? What am I saying? Why am I sitting in this chair? Why am I on this thread? And what am I going to say next?

I cannot tell, suffice to say is one of the words the Knights of Ni cannot hear.

Hear. Can't hear. Deaf! Call the next def... :codger:

Call Erik Njorl, son of Frothgar, brother of Hangnor...

Not if we're going to remain members of the fastest growing religion in the world, my boy.

Our religion is the first Church to cater for the naughty type of person. If you'd like a bit of 'love-your-neighbour' - and who doesn't now and again - then see Vera and Ciceley during the hymns.

...And spotteth twice they the camels before the third hour, and so, the Midianites went forth to Ram Gilead in Kadesh Bilgemath, by Shor Ethra Regalion, to the house of Gash-Bil-Bethuel-Bazda, he who brought the butter dish to Balshazar and the tent peg to the house of Rashomon, and there slew they the goats, yea, and placed they the bits in little pots. Here endeth the lesson.

Bitte mein Herr. Was ist das Won fur Mittelschmerz? :huh:

It is a great honour to have so many members of the Government dead in our forum.

Who's that there? Must be a King...he hasn't got shit all over him

It's not! It's an extra-terrestrial being! :scared: Agggh!

He's good! You could learn a thing or two from him. Right now you two me old beauties, you are nicked.

The Rush Forum would like to apologize to the police about the character of Police Constable IbanezJem. He was not meant to represent the average police officer.

Mind you I didn't join the police force just to wear the helmets you know. That just happens to be one of the little perks. There are plenty of jobs where I could have worn a helmet, but not such a nice helmet. This helmet, I think, beats even some of the more elaborate helmets worn by the Tsar's private army, the so-called Axi red warriors. You know about them?

don't worry about me IbanezJemmy boy, I know all about one-night stands.

We sometimes feel we're to blame in some way for what our Citizen's become. I mean he used to be happy here until he started on the crochet.
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He's worked his fingers to the bone to make this place what it is, and you come in with your petty feeble quibbling and you grind him into the dirt

Yes, you know, we find that nine out of ten New World Women can't tell the difference between Whizzo butter and a dead Citizen.
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