Citizen of the World

I don't know what you're talking about... Oh, oh, I see, I thought, I thought you were the er...I like the police a lot. I've got a lot of time for them. So if you're going out, or going on holiday, or anything strange happens involving other galaxies, just nip round to your local police station, and tell the Sergeant on duty - or his wife - of your suspicions. And the same goes for dogs. Do you want to go upstairs? Or have you come to arrange a holiday? Er, well, the other one wasn't any good, so I'd like to swap it for this one, please. I have paid. I paid on Saturday. Here's the ticket. Oh, well you want the Toupee Hall in that case, sir. Could this 18-year old hairdresser from Canada succeed where others had failed? The situation was complicated by the imminent arrival of the monsoon storms. blackhawkrush takes up the story. Oh, don't worry about him, sir. He's ma-- he's m-- he's ma-- he-- he-- he's m-- m-- m-- he's m-- he's m-- He's mad sir. Well look, I think I'd better have a second opinion on this. I want him to see a colleague of mine, a specialist in these sort of things, who has an office very much like this one as a matter of fact. I am not the brain specialist. No, no, I am not. Yes! Yes, I am. get the machine that goes 'ping'. And get the most expensive machines, in case 73 comes. Well, I gave him my baby to kiss, and he bit it on the head! Ibanezjem, I've been told blackhawkrush nailed your head to the floor. It's totally untrue, David Citizen. Ever since I left Chicago, I've been trying to do the best for Ron Ibanez. I know what Ron wants to do, I believe in him and I'm just trying to create the opportunities for Ron to do the kind of things he wants to do. Every morning, he jogs the forty-seven miles from his two-bedroomed, eight-bathroom, six-up-two-down, three-to-go-house in Reigate, to the Government's Pesticide Research Centre at Shoreham. Nobody knows why.

I don't know what you're talking about... Oh, oh, I see, I thought, I thought you were the er...I like the police a lot. I've got a lot of time for them. So if you're going out, or going on holiday, or anything strange happens involving other galaxies, just nip round to your local police station, and tell the Sergeant on duty - or his wife - of your suspicions. And the same goes for dogs. Do you want to go upstairs? Or have you come to arrange a holiday? Er, well, the other one wasn't any good, so I'd like to swap it for this one, please. I have paid. I paid on Saturday. Here's the ticket. Oh, well you want the Toupee Hall in that case, sir. Could this 18-year old hairdresser from Canada succeed where others had failed? The situation was complicated by the imminent arrival of the monsoon storms. blackhawkrush takes up the story. Oh, don't worry about him, sir. He's ma-- he's m-- he's ma-- he-- he-- he's m-- m-- m-- he's m-- he's m-- He's mad sir. Well look, I think I'd better have a second opinion on this. I want him to see a colleague of mine, a specialist in these sort of things, who has an office very much like this one as a matter of fact. I am not the brain specialist. No, no, I am not. Yes! Yes, I am. get the machine that goes 'ping'. And get the most expensive machines, in case 73 comes. Well, I gave him my baby to kiss, and he bit it on the head! Ibanezjem, I've been told blackhawkrush nailed your head to the floor.

I don't know what you're talking about... Oh, oh, I see, I thought, I thought you were the er...I like the police a lot. I've got a lot of time for them. So if you're going out, or going on holiday, or anything strange happens involving other galaxies, just nip round to your local police station, and tell the Sergeant on duty - or his wife - of your suspicions. And the same goes for dogs. Do you want to go upstairs? Or have you come to arrange a holiday? Er, well, the other one wasn't any good, so I'd like to swap it for this one, please. I have paid. I paid on Saturday. Here's the ticket. Oh, well you want the Toupee Hall in that case, sir. Could this 18-year old hairdresser from Canada succeed where others had failed? The situation was complicated by the imminent arrival of the monsoon storms. blackhawkrush takes up the story. Oh, don't worry about him, sir. He's ma-- he's m-- he's ma-- he-- he-- he's m-- m-- m-- he's m-- he's m-- He's mad sir. Well look, I think I'd better have a second opinion on this. I want him to see a colleague of mine, a specialist in these sort of things, who has an office very much like this one as a matter of fact. I am not the brain specialist. No, no, I am not. Yes! Yes, I am. get the machine that goes 'ping'. And get the most expensive machines, in case 73 comes.

I don't know what you're talking about... Oh, oh, I see, I thought, I thought you were the er...I like the police a lot. I've got a lot of time for them. So if you're going out, or going on holiday, or anything strange happens involving other galaxies, just nip round to your local police station, and tell the Sergeant on duty - or his wife - of your suspicions. And the same goes for dogs. Do you want to go upstairs? Or have you come to arrange a holiday? Er, well, the other one wasn't any good, so I'd like to swap it for this one, please. I have paid. I paid on Saturday. Here's the ticket. Oh, well you want the Toupee Hall in that case, sir. Could this 18-year old hairdresser from Canada succeed where others had failed? The situation was complicated by the imminent arrival of the monsoon storms. blackhawkrush takes up the story. Oh, don't worry about him, sir. He's ma-- he's m-- he's ma-- he-- he-- he's m-- m-- m-- he's m-- he's m-- He's mad sir.

I don't know what you're talking about... Oh, oh, I see, I thought, I thought you were the er...I like the police a lot. I've got a lot of time for them. So if you're going out, or going on holiday, or anything strange happens involving other galaxies, just nip round to your local police station, and tell the Sergeant on duty - or his wife - of your suspicions. And the same goes for dogs. Do you want to go upstairs? Or have you come to arrange a holiday? Er, well, the other one wasn't any good, so I'd like to swap it for this one, please. I have paid. I paid on Saturday. Here's the ticket. Oh, well you want the Toupee Hall in that case, sir.

I don't know what you're talking about... Oh, oh, I see, I thought, I thought you were the er...I like the police a lot. I've got a lot of time for them. So if you're going out, or going on holiday, or anything strange happens involving other galaxies, just nip round to your local police station, and tell the Sergeant on duty - or his wife - of your suspicions. And the same goes for dogs. Do you want to go upstairs? Or have you come to arrange a holiday?

Nudge nudge. Snap snap. Grin grin, wink wink, say no more

Aren't you going to say 'What's all this then?'? You don't believe I'm a policeman, do you Citizen? What am I wearing on my head? A policeman's helmet. If you say 'mattress' he puts a bucket over his head. Gaston! A bucket for monsieur. The environmental barrier had been removed but we'd hit another: the language barrier. Citizen could not speak English and was therefore unable to give the answers. With moist eyes, Citizen leaves this happy land of TRF to return to the harsh uneconomic realities of life in the land of Twitter. :outtahere: Yes, yes, yes, I do follow, blackhawkrush, but you see the snag is... if I now call Twitter and say to them 'look here, I've got a 57-year-old Canadian with me who wants to join you', they`re going to ask what sort of experience he`s had with social media. Right, typing speed? Fifty. 0 Levels? Eight. A Levels? Two. :ebert: if any of you could put in a word for me I'd love to be a freemason. Freemasonry opens doors. I mean, I was...I was a bit on edge just now, but if I were a mason I'd sit at the back and not get in anyone's way. That's positive thinking for you. You wouldn't have said a thing like that, would you 73? You five-foot-ten-inch weed. Oh yes, he's in the cupboard under the stairs. And there is the Spanish Inquisition hiding behind the coal shed. :ph34r: No, no. Look. This shed business -- it doesn't really matter. The sheds aren't important. And I suppose as his eldest son it must go to me. Three fabulous new prizes have just been added; a four-month supply of interesting undergarments, a fully motorized pig, and a hand-painted scene of Arabian splendour. Well, Picasso is reported to be unhurt, but the pig has a slight headache.

Aren't you going to say 'What's all this then?'? You don't believe I'm a policeman, do you Citizen? What am I wearing on my head? A policeman's helmet. If you say 'mattress' he puts a bucket over his head. Gaston! A bucket for monsieur. The environmental barrier had been removed but we'd hit another: the language barrier. Citizen could not speak English and was therefore unable to give the answers. With moist eyes, Citizen leaves this happy land of TRF to return to the harsh uneconomic realities of life in the land of Twitter. :outtahere: Yes, yes, yes, I do follow, blackhawkrush, but you see the snag is... if I now call Twitter and say to them 'look here, I've got a 57-year-old Canadian with me who wants to join you', they`re going to ask what sort of experience he`s had with social media. Right, typing speed? Fifty. 0 Levels? Eight. A Levels? Two. :ebert: if any of you could put in a word for me I'd love to be a freemason. Freemasonry opens doors. I mean, I was...I was a bit on edge just now, but if I were a mason I'd sit at the back and not get in anyone's way. That's positive thinking for you. You wouldn't have said a thing like that, would you 73? You five-foot-ten-inch weed. Oh yes, he's in the cupboard under the stairs. And there is the Spanish Inquisition hiding behind the coal shed. :ph34r: No, no. Look. This shed business -- it doesn't really matter. The sheds aren't important. And I suppose as his eldest son it must go to me.

Aren't you going to say 'What's all this then?'? You don't believe I'm a policeman, do you Citizen? What am I wearing on my head? A policeman's helmet. If you say 'mattress' he puts a bucket over his head. Gaston! A bucket for monsieur. The environmental barrier had been removed but we'd hit another: the language barrier. Citizen could not speak English and was therefore unable to give the answers. With moist eyes, Citizen leaves this happy land of TRF to return to the harsh uneconomic realities of life in the land of Twitter. :outtahere: Yes, yes, yes, I do follow, blackhawkrush, but you see the snag is... if I now call Twitter and say to them 'look here, I've got a 57-year-old Canadian with me who wants to join you', they`re going to ask what sort of experience he`s had with social media. Right, typing speed? Fifty. 0 Levels? Eight. A Levels? Two. :ebert: if any of you could put in a word for me I'd love to be a freemason. Freemasonry opens doors. I mean, I was...I was a bit on edge just now, but if I were a mason I'd sit at the back and not get in anyone's way.

Aren't you going to say 'What's all this then?'? You don't believe I'm a policeman, do you Citizen? What am I wearing on my head? A policeman's helmet. If you say 'mattress' he puts a bucket over his head. Gaston! A bucket for monsieur.

Aren't you going to say 'What's all this then?'?

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. He's not dead. He's probably pining for the fjords. No further questions, m'lud Ibanez. M'lud, and my other lud, the prosecution will endeavour to show m'lud, that m'lud - ah, not you m'lud, that m'lud, m'lud, while passing sentence at the Central Criminal Court blotted his copy book. Call exhibit Q. But of course, the big question that everyone's asking here is, what about those split-crotch panties? :drool: Drop your panties, blackhawkrush, I cannot wait `til lunchtime! :tsk: Why don't you like a nice plate of cannelloni, eh? Oh, you're no fun anymore. Oh, can't you do better than that? I mean it's so predictable, I've read it a million times. Knock, knock, knock come in, ah Mr. blackhawkrush, you're no fun anymore. I've read it and read it. :zzz: Well, I`ve been having a lot of mental problems with my breakfasts but this temporary, caused by a small particle of brain in my skull, and once we've removed that I'll be perfectly all right. his brain is so tiny that the slightest movement can dislodge it IbanezJem ... Oh dear... it's rather like one of those games you play where you have to get the ball into the hole I knew I'd disturb you...I knew I'd disturb you...it always happens...whenever I've found someone I really think I'm going to be able to get on with... Having once identified IbanezJem immediate steps must be taken to isolate him from the general public But in here, we have some very nasty cases indeed...73: blackhawkrush: Citizen: So it was that on a cold November morning, RSM Citizen and Sapper blackhawkrush, two of the most highly trained Kamikaze experts the Scottish Highlands have ever witnessed, left on a mission which was to... oh I can't go on with this drivel. Mr IbanezJem, I think you're the silliest person we've ever had on this thread, and so I'm going to ask you to have dinner with me I`m worn out with meeting film stars, attending premieres and giving gala luncheons. "The Wonderful Mr. Ibanez", scene 239, take 2. I want you to know that I've had an idea for the next movie I'm going to produce and I want you boys to write it! Not so fast, IbanezJem. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Inspector Citizen of Scotland Yard, Special Fraud Film Director Squad.

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. He's not dead. He's probably pining for the fjords. No further questions, m'lud Ibanez. M'lud, and my other lud, the prosecution will endeavour to show m'lud, that m'lud - ah, not you m'lud, that m'lud, m'lud, while passing sentence at the Central Criminal Court blotted his copy book. Call exhibit Q. But of course, the big question that everyone's asking here is, what about those split-crotch panties? :drool: Drop your panties, blackhawkrush, I cannot wait `til lunchtime! :tsk: Why don't you like a nice plate of cannelloni, eh? Oh, you're no fun anymore. Oh, can't you do better than that? I mean it's so predictable, I've read it a million times. Knock, knock, knock come in, ah Mr. blackhawkrush, you're no fun anymore. I've read it and read it. :zzz: Well, I`ve been having a lot of mental problems with my breakfasts but this temporary, caused by a small particle of brain in my skull, and once we've removed that I'll be perfectly all right. his brain is so tiny that the slightest movement can dislodge it IbanezJem ... Oh dear... it's rather like one of those games you play where you have to get the ball into the hole I knew I'd disturb you...I knew I'd disturb you...it always happens...whenever I've found someone I really think I'm going to be able to get on with... Having once identified IbanezJem immediate steps must be taken to isolate him from the general public But in here, we have some very nasty cases indeed...73: blackhawkrush: Citizen: So it was that on a cold November morning, RSM Citizen and Sapper blackhawkrush, two of the most highly trained Kamikaze experts the Scottish Highlands have ever witnessed, left on a mission which was to... oh I can't go on with this drivel. Mr IbanezJem, I think you're the silliest person we've ever had on this thread, and so I'm going to ask you to have dinner with me

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. He's not dead. He's probably pining for the fjords. No further questions, m'lud Ibanez. M'lud, and my other lud, the prosecution will endeavour to show m'lud, that m'lud - ah, not you m'lud, that m'lud, m'lud, while passing sentence at the Central Criminal Court blotted his copy book. Call exhibit Q. But of course, the big question that everyone's asking here is, what about those split-crotch panties? :drool: Drop your panties, blackhawkrush, I cannot wait `til lunchtime! :tsk: Why don't you like a nice plate of cannelloni, eh? Oh, you're no fun anymore. Oh, can't you do better than that? I mean it's so predictable, I've read it a million times. Knock, knock, knock come in, ah Mr. blackhawkrush, you're no fun anymore. I've read it and read it. :zzz: Well, I`ve been having a lot of mental problems with my breakfasts but this temporary, caused by a small particle of brain in my skull, and once we've removed that I'll be perfectly all right. his brain is so tiny that the slightest movement can dislodge it IbanezJem ... Oh dear... it's rather like one of those games you play where you have to get the ball into the hole I knew I'd disturb you...I knew I'd disturb you...it always happens...whenever I've found someone I really think I'm going to be able to get on with... Having once identified IbanezJem immediate steps must be taken to isolate him from the general public

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. He's not dead. He's probably pining for the fjords. No further questions, m'lud Ibanez. M'lud, and my other lud, the prosecution will endeavour to show m'lud, that m'lud - ah, not you m'lud, that m'lud, m'lud, while passing sentence at the Central Criminal Court blotted his copy book. Call exhibit Q. But of course, the big question that everyone's asking here is, what about those split-crotch panties? :drool: Drop your panties, blackhawkrush, I cannot wait `til lunchtime! :tsk: Why don't you like a nice plate of cannelloni, eh? Oh, you're no fun anymore. Oh, can't you do better than that? I mean it's so predictable, I've read it a million times. Knock, knock, knock come in, ah Mr. blackhawkrush, you're no fun anymore. I've read it and read it. :zzz: Well, I`ve been having a lot of mental problems with my breakfasts but this temporary, caused by a small particle of brain in my skull, and once we've removed that I'll be perfectly all right. his brain is so tiny that the slightest movement can dislodge it IbanezJem ... Oh dear... it's rather like one of those games you play where you have to get the ball into the hole

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. He's not dead. He's probably pining for the fjords.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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