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Me, myself, and many others, are fed up of all these topics that mean nothing - much like this one, but in order to remove the spam like topics "the playstation 2 will win, but the xbox doesn't know anything about gaming" etc, so post your tripe here - MAYBE, and that's a big maybe, the quality of Spam will improve.
THREAD for spamming - spam here, keep the forum CLEAN.
THREAD for spamming - spam here, keep the forum CLEAN.
Page:
www.tramptrails.com wrote:
> Read this story...
Yes thats about as far as I got to reading this!
Good Spam Tramp!
Want in on the T.S.Q?!
> Read this story...
Yes thats about as far as I got to reading this!
Good Spam Tramp!
Want in on the T.S.Q?!
Dav1d wrote:
> Whooooo.....
You cant do that if your not in the T.S.Q!
He really shouldnt do it like that full stop, i had to scroll for ages to reach the bottom, my finger got cramp from the mouse wheel before i got anywhere near the bottom.
> Whooooo.....
You cant do that if your not in the T.S.Q!
He really shouldnt do it like that full stop, i had to scroll for ages to reach the bottom, my finger got cramp from the mouse wheel before i got anywhere near the bottom.
can you guys quit the spamming now?? It's stupid when it ain't for a free DVD.
Read this story...
My friend Bertie
It always seemed to take Jimbob Needleplum an awfully long time to tie up any loose ends. But when he did, his ripped shoes clung tightly to him, giving him an added sense of security and togetherness. He decided not to tie up his laces this day because this day happened to be his birthday and so he took full advantage of the occasion by trying to think of more extravagant ways of being lazy. The best one he came up with today was not bothering to walk along the pavement to school. Consequently, on his trek to the school he cunningly pretended to fall into a hedge in a clumsy manner with the ulterior motive of actually going straight through the hedge. Unfortunately he became entangled in the small branches of the hedge. But Jimbob wouldn’t let the hedge beat him that easily. On the contrary, he started beating the hedge with a small stick. After a very short time Jimbob came to the conclusion that his battering of the hedge would come to no avail. But Jimbob was determined that his determination would prevail and that he would get through the hedge. Jimbob had always been a bit of a pyromaniac at heart, and so he relieved his bag of his lighter and his deodorant can. He had just begun to torch the hedge with his blowtorch like weapon.
He particularly enjoyed spraying it so that the flame from it looked like a rainbow. The fragrance of burning leaves is an interesting one. At least that’s what he hoped his geography teacher was thinking when she drove past in her little red car.
Not long after she had gone round the next corner Jimbob gave up on the hedge and just climbed over the fence into a large field. In the middle of the field cows gave a look of disbelief as Jimbob skipped merrily over the yellowed grass that the cows chewed intensely. He had just approached the middle of the field when he felt the dew soaked grass soak his birthday socks.
To his horror, when he returned to his favourite stature he realised that the cows had surrounded him and were circling like vultures over a rotting animal corpse. Now, whether it was or was not the methane to blame for Jimbob’s temporary period of disorientation is irrelevant. Whatever caused it was to blame for Jimbob swaying precariously near to a cowpat and then falling head first into it and cursing blindly.
By the time he had escaped from the field by swimming down a river. The fish were all able to swim faster than him, but he didn’t care because they didn’t have two pounds thirty five pence like he did.
Jimbob entered the town centre it was about ten to nine. He thanked the fish for their company and walked towards the school.
He was just outside Woolworths when he saw a busker. He was a rather interesting busker because he was playing an old Oasis song, whilst drinking vodka, which had gifted him with such a slur, that he sounded like an oversized Scottish cat meowing.
The sheer sound of the mans voice and the fact that he had just thanked fish for their company had put Jimbob off the idea of going to school on his birthday completely.
It is saddening that if a man has remnants of a fine cowpat on his head, he is labelled as a smelly person. Jimbob noticed this in Marks and Spencers, because every time someone walked past them they held their breath. Jimbob enjoyed standing still because sometimes people held their breath for so long that they turned blue.
Jimbob picked up a chicken mayonnaise baguette. He was quite fond of it and it made him feel French. Jimbob soon became attached to the baguette and felt he had to give it a name. Bernie, short for Bernard seemed suitable. Jimbob and Bernie headed straight for aisle eighteen. The old woman in front smelled of charity shops and like most geriatric members of the public she seemed to be stocking up on massive amounts of tin food, just in case there’s a war. Jimbob didn’t have much patience by now, and so he looked around desperately trying to avoid the breasts of the tall woman in aisle sixteen. “Aha” he thought as he noticed aisle twenty-three just opening. Jimbob and Bernie ran as fast as they could. They ran in large strides, knocking over any baggage or small children left on the floor.
Jimbob’s face dropped when he found the old woman who smelt of charity shops standing at the front of the queue for aisle twenty-three. His feeling of shock was almost instantly replaced with anger and hatred. But had he stopped running? Far from it! He charged at full pace with eyes of fury.
He grasped Bernie with both hands and held him behind his head. Suddenly everything slowed down completely, sound became muffled until all he Jimbob could hear was the sound of his own ferocious roar.
The old woman scrunched her face up until her face looked like it was a prune. At that Jimbob swung Bernie at the elderly nemesis with great power. Bernie hit her with such brutal force that as soon as it made contact with the frail lamb-like woman, Bernie baguette snapped in half. As a result of the blow, the old woman was catapulted straight into the arms of the tall woman with the eye-catching cleavage.
The tall woman already battle clad with a pizza base and a saucepan for a helmet scorned at Jimbob, and charged toward him at a fantastic speed. Fortunately Jimbob thought quickly, and picked up the bottom end of Bertie, kissed him, whispered a sweet nothing and then proceeded in launching the fatally injured baguette at the rampaging bull like woman. His trajectory was perfect. He managed to hit her right between the…eyes! The thunderous impact of Bertie not only caused him to shatter, but also cover her from head to toe in chicken mayonnaise. But victory always has a price and it had been a relentless battle.
For a second, Jimbob paused to admire the amount of destruction and pain he had induced on the evil shoppers. A mayonnaise massacre had taken place. That was when it hit him.
“OH MY GOD. BERNIE! BERNIE, SAY SOMETHING.” Jimbob screamed. But Bertie just lay there motionless. Jimbob picked up the remaining half of his severed body. Jimbob looked him in the eye and wore a soft smile.
A piece of lettuce drifted silently and then hit the ground. Jimbob fell to his knees and wept. At that moment, Jimbob made a vow. He vowed that one day he would be a hero too, and he would tell all of how Bernie Baguette had saved him.
Only close friends and family attended the funeral. The vicar said that it would be fitting for Jimbob to make a speech. He stood up.
“ Bertie Baguette was of simple sandwich folk. He had an enjoyable shelf life, and many friends who loved and cared for him. You see his mother, Sally Tuna Baguette died a long time ago when there was a salmonella outbreak. He was taken in by Brian B.L.T and Margaret Cheese and coleslaw sandwich, who provided him with a loving home. I’m sure if he were alive today he would have something happy and interesting to say. Alas, he was a good baguette. He gave his life to save mine, and I will always be grateful for that. I’ve never met a more cheerful and heroic sandwich in my entire life, and I don’t think I ever will. He really died for what he believed in.The medal of honour he’s wearing says it all. Thank you Bertie. Thank you.
To finish with, I’d like to take a quote from the holy book.”
“I have not disappeared, I have merely entered the next refrigerator.”
Jimbob frequently told his grandchildren the tale of how Bertie had saved the world, and fought tyranny in the name of justice, and how he gave his own life to save another.
IN LOVING MEMORY OF BERNARD “BERTIE” BAGUETTE
“BORN A SANDWICH, DIED A HERO”
1999-2001
My friend Bertie
It always seemed to take Jimbob Needleplum an awfully long time to tie up any loose ends. But when he did, his ripped shoes clung tightly to him, giving him an added sense of security and togetherness. He decided not to tie up his laces this day because this day happened to be his birthday and so he took full advantage of the occasion by trying to think of more extravagant ways of being lazy. The best one he came up with today was not bothering to walk along the pavement to school. Consequently, on his trek to the school he cunningly pretended to fall into a hedge in a clumsy manner with the ulterior motive of actually going straight through the hedge. Unfortunately he became entangled in the small branches of the hedge. But Jimbob wouldn’t let the hedge beat him that easily. On the contrary, he started beating the hedge with a small stick. After a very short time Jimbob came to the conclusion that his battering of the hedge would come to no avail. But Jimbob was determined that his determination would prevail and that he would get through the hedge. Jimbob had always been a bit of a pyromaniac at heart, and so he relieved his bag of his lighter and his deodorant can. He had just begun to torch the hedge with his blowtorch like weapon.
He particularly enjoyed spraying it so that the flame from it looked like a rainbow. The fragrance of burning leaves is an interesting one. At least that’s what he hoped his geography teacher was thinking when she drove past in her little red car.
Not long after she had gone round the next corner Jimbob gave up on the hedge and just climbed over the fence into a large field. In the middle of the field cows gave a look of disbelief as Jimbob skipped merrily over the yellowed grass that the cows chewed intensely. He had just approached the middle of the field when he felt the dew soaked grass soak his birthday socks.
To his horror, when he returned to his favourite stature he realised that the cows had surrounded him and were circling like vultures over a rotting animal corpse. Now, whether it was or was not the methane to blame for Jimbob’s temporary period of disorientation is irrelevant. Whatever caused it was to blame for Jimbob swaying precariously near to a cowpat and then falling head first into it and cursing blindly.
By the time he had escaped from the field by swimming down a river. The fish were all able to swim faster than him, but he didn’t care because they didn’t have two pounds thirty five pence like he did.
Jimbob entered the town centre it was about ten to nine. He thanked the fish for their company and walked towards the school.
He was just outside Woolworths when he saw a busker. He was a rather interesting busker because he was playing an old Oasis song, whilst drinking vodka, which had gifted him with such a slur, that he sounded like an oversized Scottish cat meowing.
The sheer sound of the mans voice and the fact that he had just thanked fish for their company had put Jimbob off the idea of going to school on his birthday completely.
It is saddening that if a man has remnants of a fine cowpat on his head, he is labelled as a smelly person. Jimbob noticed this in Marks and Spencers, because every time someone walked past them they held their breath. Jimbob enjoyed standing still because sometimes people held their breath for so long that they turned blue.
Jimbob picked up a chicken mayonnaise baguette. He was quite fond of it and it made him feel French. Jimbob soon became attached to the baguette and felt he had to give it a name. Bernie, short for Bernard seemed suitable. Jimbob and Bernie headed straight for aisle eighteen. The old woman in front smelled of charity shops and like most geriatric members of the public she seemed to be stocking up on massive amounts of tin food, just in case there’s a war. Jimbob didn’t have much patience by now, and so he looked around desperately trying to avoid the breasts of the tall woman in aisle sixteen. “Aha” he thought as he noticed aisle twenty-three just opening. Jimbob and Bernie ran as fast as they could. They ran in large strides, knocking over any baggage or small children left on the floor.
Jimbob’s face dropped when he found the old woman who smelt of charity shops standing at the front of the queue for aisle twenty-three. His feeling of shock was almost instantly replaced with anger and hatred. But had he stopped running? Far from it! He charged at full pace with eyes of fury.
He grasped Bernie with both hands and held him behind his head. Suddenly everything slowed down completely, sound became muffled until all he Jimbob could hear was the sound of his own ferocious roar.
The old woman scrunched her face up until her face looked like it was a prune. At that Jimbob swung Bernie at the elderly nemesis with great power. Bernie hit her with such brutal force that as soon as it made contact with the frail lamb-like woman, Bernie baguette snapped in half. As a result of the blow, the old woman was catapulted straight into the arms of the tall woman with the eye-catching cleavage.
The tall woman already battle clad with a pizza base and a saucepan for a helmet scorned at Jimbob, and charged toward him at a fantastic speed. Fortunately Jimbob thought quickly, and picked up the bottom end of Bertie, kissed him, whispered a sweet nothing and then proceeded in launching the fatally injured baguette at the rampaging bull like woman. His trajectory was perfect. He managed to hit her right between the…eyes! The thunderous impact of Bertie not only caused him to shatter, but also cover her from head to toe in chicken mayonnaise. But victory always has a price and it had been a relentless battle.
For a second, Jimbob paused to admire the amount of destruction and pain he had induced on the evil shoppers. A mayonnaise massacre had taken place. That was when it hit him.
“OH MY GOD. BERNIE! BERNIE, SAY SOMETHING.” Jimbob screamed. But Bertie just lay there motionless. Jimbob picked up the remaining half of his severed body. Jimbob looked him in the eye and wore a soft smile.
A piece of lettuce drifted silently and then hit the ground. Jimbob fell to his knees and wept. At that moment, Jimbob made a vow. He vowed that one day he would be a hero too, and he would tell all of how Bernie Baguette had saved him.
Only close friends and family attended the funeral. The vicar said that it would be fitting for Jimbob to make a speech. He stood up.
“ Bertie Baguette was of simple sandwich folk. He had an enjoyable shelf life, and many friends who loved and cared for him. You see his mother, Sally Tuna Baguette died a long time ago when there was a salmonella outbreak. He was taken in by Brian B.L.T and Margaret Cheese and coleslaw sandwich, who provided him with a loving home. I’m sure if he were alive today he would have something happy and interesting to say. Alas, he was a good baguette. He gave his life to save mine, and I will always be grateful for that. I’ve never met a more cheerful and heroic sandwich in my entire life, and I don’t think I ever will. He really died for what he believed in.The medal of honour he’s wearing says it all. Thank you Bertie. Thank you.
To finish with, I’d like to take a quote from the holy book.”
“I have not disappeared, I have merely entered the next refrigerator.”
Jimbob frequently told his grandchildren the tale of how Bertie had saved the world, and fought tyranny in the name of justice, and how he gave his own life to save another.
IN LOVING MEMORY OF BERNARD “BERTIE” BAGUETTE
“BORN A SANDWICH, DIED A HERO”
1999-2001
Whooooo.....
You cant do that if your not in the T.S.Q!
You cant do that if your not in the T.S.Q!
Page: