In Search Of Christmas Spirits!


Andrew Macdonald

19 December 2003 16:30

Beware

Beware, low flying chimbleys.................

Vile Jelly

19 December 2003 16:57

Why?
 
I have positioned the Reporting Team under the chimbley every night and they swear blind that nothing has been supposited there!

Vile Jelly

20 December 2003 14:11

Chimbley Sweeps!

I just don't understand. I nipped out earlier in the day for a fresh vat of pharmaceuticals and when I got back I found a delivery on my doorstep. It's an empty box and the Reporting Team have disappeared.
 
Do you think I should notify NASA of a possible alien abduction?
 
N. E. Way, cheers for the beers, m'dears. I haven't checked the 'best before' date yet but hopefully they will still be quaffable when I finally get shot of all these germans, can get my insides to stay on the inside and regain some sense of taste and smell!
 
PS. Did you enjoy your appearance in the Mystery Play?

Andrew Macdonald

21 December 2003 12:43

I thought my performance was sans pareil. We'll be whacking in the bill for the picture rights faster than you can say Global.
 
I'm not entirely sure what was in the box, but if I was you, I'd get a couple of bottles of Good King Henry down you and nothing much will matter then.
 
PS, Didn't spot Lucy's part in the Mystery Play, but we haven't told her yet.
 
PPS.  I think Mr Chimbley is launching a special edition of GKH on an unsuspecting world next year.  It's currently bubbling away in a dark corner of the brewery, and will hit the back of the throat at about 11.5% abv. 

Vile Jelly

21 December 2003 12:56

Still no sign of the RT so it must have been good stuff.
 
Aha, I have spotted a fox paws in the story (or palimpsest as Mad Maeve would have it). There is a bit that has not been uploaded properly. I shall try to rectum-fry the error immediately.
 
Of course, it would be the whole bloody denouement of the plot wouldn't it! This is what happens when you try to work with a brain like mush, guts like the niagara falls and eyes that do not want to be open.
 
If ever proof was needed that I am cursed beyond all hope of redemption .....
 
PS. Still don't know your address so I can't even send you a late Crimbo card (you can forget gifts of ale, in my impoverished condition I couldn't afford the postage let alone the pressie at the mo!). You will have to come down here when I am once more in gainful employment and I will ply you with Cornish ales. Helling (or Lucy) won't mind doing the driving will they?

Andrew Macdonald

22 December 2003 18:13

Helling said, Gosh, yes, she'd be only too happy to drive us round the pubs of Cornshire in return for a lemonade and a packet of pork scratchings. 
 
And Lucy's feeling much better, thank you. now she's seen the grand finale - I'm just wandering what the electronic equivalent of a palimpsest is?
 
And that beer's not just for drinking, oh, no!  Knowing what a conosewer you are, we await a trenchant witty and informed critique of Mr Chimbley's finest.  But we aren't holding our breath.
 
And talking of the excellent Mr C, I'm off to collect my polypin in the morning - the joy of living in Norfolk/Suffolk

Vile Jelly

23 December 2003 09:25

Good sport, I knew she had to be useful for something .....
 
..... Sorry, had to duck unexpectedly there. A frying-pan just came flying past my nose from an East Angularian direction. Is it raining ironmongery there? Anyway, give us advance warning of your next raid and I'll work out an itinerary. What do you reckon her range is?
 
Yes, you'd best not hold your whatsits waiting for the Chimbley Report. First I've got to prise what's left of it from the iron grip of the Reporting Team. Second I've got to go to hospital to have my tongue shaved so that I can actually start tasting things again!
 
PS. Why isn't there a Middlefolk where the two races can mingle freely rather than staring at each other across the barbed wire of the DMZ?

Andrew Macdonald

24 December 2003 14:24

Depends on whether she goes for a surgically precise laser guided strike or Rolling Thunder.
 
Anyway, must go and peel a sprout.  Enjoy the beer and have a good Christmas.
 
PS  There is no barbed wire, only the river of death known as the Waveney.  And I think there is Middle thing, only they went for sex rather than folk, but I suppose that's what you get with all that mingling freely.  That, or they couldn't bear the thought of listening to that bloke with his finger stuck in his ear singing All Around my Hat any longer. 

Vile Jelly

25 December 2003 09:25

Rolling Blunder job, I reckon. Still, there's bound to be the odd petrol station hither and thither so it will really just be a question of how long she can drive continuously. Mind you, she'll be able to have a snooze in the car park while we're in the pubs so she should be good for a few thousand miles!
 
PS. You could always merge and redistribute the two counties. The over 25's could live in Norsouth and the skateboarders, etc. could live in the appropriately named Folkfolk.

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