As the Council deliberates....
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I agree. 👍☺
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vishbume⠀ wrote:
Are you suffering from turfalitis vish??I agree. 👍☺
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🏃💨fartex💩 wrote:
Something worse than the weeping canker protruding out of Brian McGrath's mahogany gas-pipe.vishbume⠀ wrote:
Are you suffering from turfalitis vish??I agree. 👍☺
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In relation to Brian's gas pipe, it was not my intention for our friend to suffer from a rupture of the alimentary canal. His vigorous routine of hindquater slamming atop the fair pony had rendered him unapproachable. A small dash of ointment sould alleviate the discomfort while gentle warm water swabs are kneaded into the protruding area to aid in healing process, he'll be fine.
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vishbume⠀ wrote:
One should steel their hearts and cover their ears and pinch their noses to avoid the noisy sucking and squelching and peeling of farts as the unguent is fingered in.Alas,Brian's contralto would be sadly unheard due to these precautionary measures.In relation to Brian's gas pipe, it was not my intention for our friend to suffer from a rupture of the alimentary canal. His vigorous routine of hindquater slamming atop the fair pony had rendered him unapproachable. A small dash of ointment sould alleviate the discomfort while gentle warm water swabs are kneaded into the protruding area to aid in healing process, he'll be fine.
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Jimmy Krankie Vish.
You know you would.
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Charlie Seiga wrote:
I think she works on the phones now trying to sell fluffy kittens and rays of sunshine but her raspy Scottish accent have gotten her a big fat zero and productivity is an all time low. Maybe she should try a career in excorism or maybe an angry hobbit....but I still wouldJimmy Krankie Vish.
You know you would.
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💩💩ᎡᏌᎠᏀᏓᏣᏌᎦ💩💩 wrote:
😂 Ha! That or a Chucky the devil doll stunt double.But yeah,I still would.......Just wouldn't like to hear her say "I could crush a graaaaape" whilst blowing on the bagpipe.Charlie Seiga wrote:
I think she works on the phones now trying to sell fluffy kittens and rays of sunshine but her raspy Scottish accent have gotten her a big fat zero and productivity is an all time low. Maybe she should try a career in excorism or maybe an angry hobbit....but I still wouldJimmy Krankie Vish.
You know you would.
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The traveller attempted to plant doubt into his would-be thief,"You expect me to hand over my wallet over to you without as much a fight?! I know karate I must warn you".
"Resist all you like.In fact,I encourage you to do so.I will flay the skin from your scrawny head and make a fine pair of brogues with it".
"Not likely, possible but most unlikely",he took a defensive stance and started to flex his arms beckoning his aggressor to try his luck,"You will rue this day I promise you".The attacker seemed pleased by this,"I will take this stick,set it to flame and shove it right up yer backside all the while singing "a spoon full of sugar" that will make your gicker spit and pucker something awful".The traveller heaved a deep sigh,"Just leave me my SuperQuinn loyalty card if you will kind sir". -
The juiciest berries were in old man Kavanagh's wicker-walled garden. You could spy the garden as you relived yourself in the court's toilets.Oft,I looked and appreciated those fruits as I drew transient pictures with my piddle, but today I hatched a plan to nab me some of them berries and an escaping fart only seemed to strengthen my resolve or maybe just to echo my resolve.Kavanagh was a mean skinny hatchet faced cuss but he had his weaknesses as we all knew.He had a gang of hungry urchins in his employ whom he had squatting and pulling out weeds with cheap plastic beach spades.He would carry a gnarly stick which he would slap idly against his high black boots and would lift his loose smock right up to his face to dab at his sweaty pate (which would reveal all to any that happened to look in his direction).
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I made my way to a rent in that wicker-wall and flung a clod of earth with nettles over it and quickly pressed my eye to see the results. The nettles elicited a squawk from Kavanagh as they struck home and a few of the urchins peeled in laughter.They quickly silenced themselves but the damage was done.
Kavanagh uncoiled like a lazy snake and started to chase the gang around the garden raising and lowering his stick at the fleeing buttocks amid a great flapping of cloth.So absorbed was Kavanagh in his enjoyment,I could saunter over to the bushes and fill my basket.Why, I even had time to eat there and then. -
👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇
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I've got your council ...... in my pants!!!👍
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👆👆👆👆👆👆👆👆👆👆👆👆
I found this written on a corner of brown paper lying amongst some notes on my pulpit.Can you guess who was the esteemed author?
Now I must point out that it couldn't have been Kavanagh from the sunny cherry garden for not only is he totally unable to read or write,but he only wears smocks of coarse potato-sack cloth and never pants.Also,he would seem to have suffered a mortification after the previous evenings indulgences if the mass of flies around his prostrate form are anything to go by.No.Kavanagh it couldn't have been. Besides,only one player would be capable of fitting an entire council and more in his pants.Oh To Bring him back. -
Seemingly uninhabited and derelict,the house appeared to hunch under the weight of its partially collapsed roof.To the side a windpump creaked lazily to the zephyr.I listened....a sighing of the breeze hinting at bereft souls,a pitiable creak of tree branches and the sound of some forsaken animal from afar. Otherwise silence.I pulled my scarf tighter around my neck and moved the short distance to the structure.Staring into it revealed but decaying furniture,strewn paper and an old computer with yet a blinking light.I approached it,cleaned the dust off of it and amazingly the screen fluttered to life! I saw that there was a long list of unopened messages........
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........all addressed to Feedback.I froze as I heard a car pull up outside.I crouched and from a place of concealment spied Scuts Finlay himself and a few of his henchmen.Laughing and drinking they were coming into the building.I took the computer and dodged around the back racing for my car. I would return it to Nick and the poor mods. Scuts would have to wait.Just another reason to hate Finlays.
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"Do we exist?"..... Pour us two fine wines and I shall quaff them both.They are now both gone and you are peeved.Does that help answer your question?Leave the bottle if still in doubt.
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Get your piddle out again Vish!
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Think thee of this episode before you buy a certain Pascal Burke a drink: you nursing a sore head,prostrate and pants less,your eyes going in and out of focus as the sly rogue Pascal,akin to a mantis with its mandibles like high powered pistons,urgently consumes the bounty set before its eyes.The odd gagging sound would punctuate the orchestra of slurping and slopping.The sounds and images would long haunt you,and you would most likely never drink in that establishment again.Let me mind your money for you.
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☁ᎦkyᎢнєᏝiмiт☁ wrote:
Dearest Sara,I shall reserve such a feat for the next person who decides to examine the yield from his nose in front of my sensitive eyes.Get your piddle out again Vish!
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"Noble Shep,cease your rutting and warm your spent hams by the fire.....Upwind sirrah!",spoke Baden.
"I'll cleave you a new asshole!Put that in thy pipe and doth smoketh it!", retorted Shep.
Well,my friends,Baden had his tailors set to work and they fashioned a gruesome headdress from Shep's brain pan that was employed as a crude headdress...a garb to be worn by and belittle visiting ambassadors.Shep's dead eyes even seemed to share the joke.The moral of the tale? Why,never to force unnatural meanings upon one's remarks. -
"Mischief in a girl is like salt on on your chips, but perhaps that lass is a little too salty", explained young Peter Boland's mammy in a roundabout way.
"I like salt Ma", murmured Peter.
"She warms multiple beds", continued the Ma patiently.
"A blessing to have a job in this day and age mother", reflected Peter.
"She's easy" to which Peter responded that he hated complicated girls.....
"SHE'S A FILTHY SLUT son and besides she broke your poor Da's heart",replied the Ma changing tack.Mournfully,Peter walked the girl out of the house. -
..........back around to his bedroom window? 😂
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☁ᎦkyᎢнєᏝiмiт☁ wrote:
😂😂😂Bravo Sara! A willful scallywag is Peter.It will,most likely,end up in tears and an itch...........back around to his bedroom window? 😂
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The lights dim and the curtains are drawn aside and the tale begins.
The setting of this short story was a walled garden where spider-monkeys were dressed as children and given their wont.But one would look out at the outside world and think it to be a happier place.It climbed the vines and met up a group of children playing.The creature ran and played with the children but they soon took to waving sticks at him.The monkey ran through the streets and met with barking dogs,avaricious street peddlers and rain followed by the closing darkness of night. -
The monkey soon felt it preferred its garden,constraining though it be.He hesitated but for a fraction of a moment,fearing the consequences of his escapade.He scaled the wall and was greeted by the others with something like fear mixed with envy and awe.They knew what was ordained.
The child-human of the garden dragged the errant monkey to his father who cut off its intentions to justify its absence.A dirty rag was stuffed into its mouth and humiliation was inflicted upon the spider monkey.A cold iron collar was placed around its neck attached to a chain of not more than 5 links attached to a bar by the window alongside the skeletal remains if its brethren. There the monkey was allowed to gaze upon the garden to ponder its fate as well as be seen by the others to serve as an example and as a warning. -
Conclusive scientific tests have shown that the blow-fly is an off-branch of the wart hog family.All arguments fly in the face of the hard evidence offered by eminent scientists:
"If you place a collar around a dog's tail,the dog will resist the inclination to walk backwards and will continue to walk with its muzzle leading the way".
Quod erat demonstrandum.
These excellent people are now considering if a man's brain can be housed in a cabbage successfully and be able to continue doing everyday things.Parsnips and turnips failed in that the brain showed an advanced case of rot in one and psychotic tendencies in the former.
Sometimes,faith cannot be reconciled with fact.
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