Ye Guts for Garters Pub
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Sluuuurrrrp tis steady in here these days. Think we need to get the entertainment on the go again.
I do a mean rick astley if anyone is up for karaoke -
Is Barry Maniliow a puppet?
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Charlie Seiga wrote:
Most likely a muppet.Is Barry Maniliow a puppet?
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What is all this??
The pub has been closed for 2 weeks or were you all to drunk to get up from your phat asses to order???Barkeep! Get off ya lazy ass and serve these men a fine drink!!
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Barkeep is dead??
😢
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Just sozzled Fartex old chum.Christmas drinks!
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Getting awfully quiet round these parts
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The inflated balloons are unique.Must leave a note to self:French letters don't make for making fun balloon shapes. All are partying like its 1999 here.
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All the best for the new year gents
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Brocklesby💣Bomb wrote:
Always good to see Brock about.Cheers to that!All the best for the new year gents
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Trigger is in the back room with a tub of the finest Vaseline and a small jockey, screams have been heard ...........
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Ultraviolet wrote:
And I'll wager that they're not the screams of Trigger.Trigger is in the back room with a tub of the finest Vaseline and a small jockey, screams have been heard ...........
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Buuuuurrrrrpppppp
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Hyena wrote:
Wrong hole my friend....Buuuuurrrrrpppppp
Its supposed to be....
Parp...
Or
Poot...🏃💨💩
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At last the watering hole is open again. I'll have a pint of your finest please barkeep and a round of jäger for me chums
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Anyone got a barf bucket? This greek stuff aint sittin right...
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Always open though the patrons are quiet to be sure.
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I'm worried about dear Trigger, he is rodgering about three jockeys a week, soon he will run out of them, once he has used them they can't ride of course, we are having complaints from the jockey commissionand if he will not curb his weird appetites they'll send him to the vets!
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Ultraviolet wrote:
Have you tried a fake rubber jockey? I know the good ones aren't cheap by I heard that they feel almost real....I'm worried about dear Trigger, he is rodgering about three jockeys a week, soon he will run out of them, once he has used them they can't ride of course, we are having complaints from the jockey commissionand if he will not curb his weird appetites they'll send him to the vets!
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"A dark caveat in a deep place".I read it again,creased my forehead,and quickly left the toilets.
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Hyena wrote:
Yes he did try a rubber one once but such was his enthusiasm that it burst into flame and singed his balls!!Ultraviolet wrote:
Have you tried a fake rubber jockey? I know the good ones aren't cheap by I heard that they feel almost real....I'm worried about dear Trigger, he is rodgering about three jockeys a week, soon he will run out of them, once he has used them they can't ride of course, we are having complaints from the jockey commissionand if he will not curb his weird appetites they'll send him to the vets!
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Ultraviolet wrote:
Ahhhh, that makes me think of the Dyvinel's song "it's a fine line..."Hyena wrote:
Yes he did try a rubber one once but such was his enthusiasm that it burst into flame and singed his balls!!Ultraviolet wrote:
Have you tried a fake rubber jockey? I know the good ones aren't cheap by I heard that they feel almost real....I'm worried about dear Trigger, he is rodgering about three jockeys a week, soon he will run out of them, once he has used them they can't ride of course, we are having complaints from the jockey commissionand if he will not curb his weird appetites they'll send him to the vets!
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Big floppy donkey dick.
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🍃🍃👀🍃🍃
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Thirsty work.
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🚲🍊Far Side🍊🚲 wrote:
Omg, hahahaaa!Goodwill to your arse, may it have joy.
My doctor offered two large leaves to cure constipation. I expressed doubt. "With fronds like these, you don't need enemas", he said. -
With much excitement I took weight to my own foot as I dismounted my trusty steed, as I straighten myself out after the long journey I glance up at the sign. It seems time has been cruel to the old girl, the sign has been bastardised. It now reads, 'Yogurt farters pube'. Letters replaced or blanked out with a slapdash of crimson paint. Judging by the weathered look of the paint, it's been some time since the vandalism took place. Immediately I am filled with memories of the glorious times spent in the garter, and of course the Valhalla before.
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Stepping up to the door, I can't help but notice the dilapidated look of the place, I snigger to myself, not much change there then! As I reach for the handle my attention is brought to the old rocking chair on the porch deck, where Charlie used to splice the Friday night imp strippers. Remembering how he'd handle them as though he were stuffing a Christmas Turkey, with such ease yet with strong intent, a voice boomed out.
"Dare ye pass foot beyond that there threshold be prepared to add your scrotum to my collection", removing his hand from under his oversized hooded cloak, he pulled away the covering around his neck to reveal a string necktie, attached to it with staples were several dried up, almost mummified looking man sacs, the fate of their owners I'm yet to ascertain.
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Suddenly out of the blue comes a glass shattering scream, the old mans head seemed to vanish as millions of tiny pieces of skull and brain are sent flying in every direction. The nearest cover to take would mean entering the pub, so I sprint to the door and throw the entirety of my weight into opening it. Without much resistance from the old hinges I find myself in the old bar, seems as if nothing has changed inside, still as dirty as ever. The same stains on the same seats. Bits of crusty old cloth pushed into corners. The same grubby old bottles and even the bobble headed elvis statue in the far corner, it used to be the hanging place for wee Mary, we'd hang her from his quiff by her pantaloons when she would consume too much fluid, which was almost nightly, little minx. She'd hang there for hours singing old sea shanties, usually until one of us grew tired of her high pitched squealing and stuffed her mouth with our crotch cloth.
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Being weary from my travels and thirsty enough that my mouth was beginning to feel as dry as I recall those man sacs looking. I pulled an untouched bottle from under the bar, blew the dust from a glass and took to my old booth seat. I figured whoever it was that took a disliking to the old man would at least allow me the courtesy of a last drink, as I was in no mood for fighting... I pour a glass, raise it to the past and down it in one. Pouring the second I settle in and wait.... Who shall be next to arrive, I wonder....
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