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‘Twas a warm day in The Shire and Bongbo was sitting in his house getting utterly mashed on Hobnob weed.
A knock on his door dragged Bongbo from his stupor and he opened it, to find the big wizard Grandelf standing before him.
“Hello Bongbo” said the musty magician; “I task you with a mission”.
“Shove it Beardy” said Bongbo and closed the door, intending to smoke out and fall asleep listening to Elvensong CDs that his midget, hairy-toed relatives had given him for his 111th birthday.
Grandelf had magicked his way into Bongbo’s home and was sitting by the fire.
“Take this ring, midget and don’t give me any grief or I’ll bore you with pixie speak for 2hrs” said the dusty mage.
Bongbo sighed and took the ring, “It’s pikey, what am I supposed to do with this?”
Grandelf shrugged, “Damned if I care. Take it to Bordedor and chuck it in a fire or something.”
Bongbo raised his stout leg and squeezed one out, chuckling as a smoke-ring floated up.
Grandelf waved a hand in front of his big beard “Jesus short-stuff, that reeks”
Bongbo laughed and fell asleep.
The next morning, more midgets turned up and they all sang rubbish songs about pixies until Bongbo bullied them into coming with him on his epic journey.
As they set out, Grandelf warned them of great perils, “There will be great perils”
The midget adventurers all drank ale and sang like little gay cabaret artists as they left The Shire.
After some really dull chapters stuffed with crap about Elves, they were chased by faceless men on horses, but they got away.
“That was lucky,” said Bongbo.
“Not really” smiled Giblet, Son of Flapspuncher the Dwarf.
“Why?” asked Nobby The Nobber, 3rd cousin of Peter the Pixie
“Damned if I know” sighed Bongbo, “Let’s all sing some more”
And they did.
Eventually they reached some town where nothing much happened, they all drank some more and sang.
Like midget Michael Barrymore impersonators.
Especially Bongbo’s fat ginger mate Sam Sandwich, who had issues.
Meanwhile, in some big dark temple, an old wizard made bad-pixies from mud and bits of car engines.
“I shall call you Bogrolls, and you will chase the singing midgets. I want Bongbo’s ring”.
The chief Bogroll, Smeefwap, said, “Isn’t this all a bit symbolic? All this talk of wanting his ring and stuff, I mean come on…”
The old wizard who is known as Smearedon, Mother of Wipeseasy The Magic Goblin looked confused, “I just wish to own Bongbo’s ring. It’s magic and stuff”
The Bogrolls laughed and pointed at the old man in a dress.
“It’s not a bloody dress, it’s a robe” shouted Smearedon.
“Whatever” shrugged Smeefwap and the Bogrolls went out to chase the midgets.
To grab Bongbo’s ring.
The midgets were in the forest of Kwanqaaar, home of the Elves.
The chief Elf, Alan, looked really camp with his long blonde hair and dainty elf mates, who all liked to sing about their forefathers and dance like girls.
“Hello Alan” said Bongbo.
“Ah, a midget” sung Alan, “Let me tell you of our ancestors in a poncy song whilst you drink ale and stroke Bongbo’s ring”
“No” said Bongbo, “This is homo-erotic subtext at it’s worst. C’mon, we’re leaving this dainty Elf village and sleeping in the woods”
And they did.
And then the Bogrolls descended and chased the midgets into The Mines of Moira Stewart.
Where it was dark and warm – but nothing is to be read into a load of men hiding in dark warm tunnels in their attempted destruction of a ring. No siree.
There was some fighting.
And more singing.
And then a Cave-Troll appeared, but that was rubbish and some eagles flew down and saved them all.
Eventually, they were all on a mountain and Bongbo was polishing his ring.
“Gissa touch of yer ring” said Carton, 1st brother of Bottle The Dwarf.
“No” said Bongbo, “This ring is temptation itself. You may not touch my ring.”
Carton went mental and tried to take Bongbo’s ring by force, but Bongbo got away in a little boat and sailed away.
-------
And at this point, the story ends because I’m bored and want a smoke.
BORED OF MY RINGS
A knock on his door dragged Bongbo from his stupor and he opened it, to find the big wizard Grandelf standing before him.
“Hello Bongbo” said the musty magician; “I task you with a mission”.
“Shove it Beardy” said Bongbo and closed the door, intending to smoke out and fall asleep listening to Elvensong CDs that his midget, hairy-toed relatives had given him for his 111th birthday.
Grandelf had magicked his way into Bongbo’s home and was sitting by the fire.
“Take this ring, midget and don’t give me any grief or I’ll bore you with pixie speak for 2hrs” said the dusty mage.
Bongbo sighed and took the ring, “It’s pikey, what am I supposed to do with this?”
Grandelf shrugged, “Damned if I care. Take it to Bordedor and chuck it in a fire or something.”
Bongbo raised his stout leg and squeezed one out, chuckling as a smoke-ring floated up.
Grandelf waved a hand in front of his big beard “Jesus short-stuff, that reeks”
Bongbo laughed and fell asleep.
The next morning, more midgets turned up and they all sang rubbish songs about pixies until Bongbo bullied them into coming with him on his epic journey.
As they set out, Grandelf warned them of great perils, “There will be great perils”
The midget adventurers all drank ale and sang like little gay cabaret artists as they left The Shire.
After some really dull chapters stuffed with crap about Elves, they were chased by faceless men on horses, but they got away.
“That was lucky,” said Bongbo.
“Not really” smiled Giblet, Son of Flapspuncher the Dwarf.
“Why?” asked Nobby The Nobber, 3rd cousin of Peter the Pixie
“Damned if I know” sighed Bongbo, “Let’s all sing some more”
And they did.
Eventually they reached some town where nothing much happened, they all drank some more and sang.
Like midget Michael Barrymore impersonators.
Especially Bongbo’s fat ginger mate Sam Sandwich, who had issues.
Meanwhile, in some big dark temple, an old wizard made bad-pixies from mud and bits of car engines.
“I shall call you Bogrolls, and you will chase the singing midgets. I want Bongbo’s ring”.
The chief Bogroll, Smeefwap, said, “Isn’t this all a bit symbolic? All this talk of wanting his ring and stuff, I mean come on…”
The old wizard who is known as Smearedon, Mother of Wipeseasy The Magic Goblin looked confused, “I just wish to own Bongbo’s ring. It’s magic and stuff”
The Bogrolls laughed and pointed at the old man in a dress.
“It’s not a bloody dress, it’s a robe” shouted Smearedon.
“Whatever” shrugged Smeefwap and the Bogrolls went out to chase the midgets.
To grab Bongbo’s ring.
The midgets were in the forest of Kwanqaaar, home of the Elves.
The chief Elf, Alan, looked really camp with his long blonde hair and dainty elf mates, who all liked to sing about their forefathers and dance like girls.
“Hello Alan” said Bongbo.
“Ah, a midget” sung Alan, “Let me tell you of our ancestors in a poncy song whilst you drink ale and stroke Bongbo’s ring”
“No” said Bongbo, “This is homo-erotic subtext at it’s worst. C’mon, we’re leaving this dainty Elf village and sleeping in the woods”
And they did.
And then the Bogrolls descended and chased the midgets into The Mines of Moira Stewart.
Where it was dark and warm – but nothing is to be read into a load of men hiding in dark warm tunnels in their attempted destruction of a ring. No siree.
There was some fighting.
And more singing.
And then a Cave-Troll appeared, but that was rubbish and some eagles flew down and saved them all.
Eventually, they were all on a mountain and Bongbo was polishing his ring.
“Gissa touch of yer ring” said Carton, 1st brother of Bottle The Dwarf.
“No” said Bongbo, “This ring is temptation itself. You may not touch my ring.”
Carton went mental and tried to take Bongbo’s ring by force, but Bongbo got away in a little boat and sailed away.
-------
And at this point, the story ends because I’m bored and want a smoke.
BORED OF MY RINGS
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‘Twas a warm day in The Shire and Bongbo was sitting in his house getting utterly mashed on Hobnob weed.
A knock on his door dragged Bongbo from his stupor and he opened it, to find the big wizard Grandelf standing before him.
“Hello Bongbo” said the musty magician; “I task you with a mission”.
“Shove it Beardy” said Bongbo and closed the door, intending to smoke out and fall asleep listening to Elvensong CDs that his midget, hairy-toed relatives had given him for his 111th birthday.
Grandelf had magicked his way into Bongbo’s home and was sitting by the fire.
“Take this ring, midget and don’t give me any grief or I’ll bore you with pixie speak for 2hrs” said the dusty mage.
Bongbo sighed and took the ring, “It’s pikey, what am I supposed to do with this?”
Grandelf shrugged, “Damned if I care. Take it to Bordedor and chuck it in a fire or something.”
Bongbo raised his stout leg and squeezed one out, chuckling as a smoke-ring floated up.
Grandelf waved a hand in front of his big beard “Jesus short-stuff, that reeks”
Bongbo laughed and fell asleep.
The next morning, more midgets turned up and they all sang rubbish songs about pixies until Bongbo bullied them into coming with him on his epic journey.
As they set out, Grandelf warned them of great perils, “There will be great perils”
The midget adventurers all drank ale and sang like little gay cabaret artists as they left The Shire.
After some really dull chapters stuffed with crap about Elves, they were chased by faceless men on horses, but they got away.
“That was lucky,” said Bongbo.
“Not really” smiled Giblet, Son of Flapspuncher the Dwarf.
“Why?” asked Nobby The Nobber, 3rd cousin of Peter the Pixie
“Damned if I know” sighed Bongbo, “Let’s all sing some more”
And they did.
Eventually they reached some town where nothing much happened, they all drank some more and sang.
Like midget Michael Barrymore impersonators.
Especially Bongbo’s fat ginger mate Sam Sandwich, who had issues.
Meanwhile, in some big dark temple, an old wizard made bad-pixies from mud and bits of car engines.
“I shall call you Bogrolls, and you will chase the singing midgets. I want Bongbo’s ring”.
The chief Bogroll, Smeefwap, said, “Isn’t this all a bit symbolic? All this talk of wanting his ring and stuff, I mean come on…”
The old wizard who is known as Smearedon, Mother of Wipeseasy The Magic Goblin looked confused, “I just wish to own Bongbo’s ring. It’s magic and stuff”
The Bogrolls laughed and pointed at the old man in a dress.
“It’s not a bloody dress, it’s a robe” shouted Smearedon.
“Whatever” shrugged Smeefwap and the Bogrolls went out to chase the midgets.
To grab Bongbo’s ring.
The midgets were in the forest of Kwanqaaar, home of the Elves.
The chief Elf, Alan, looked really camp with his long blonde hair and dainty elf mates, who all liked to sing about their forefathers and dance like girls.
“Hello Alan” said Bongbo.
“Ah, a midget” sung Alan, “Let me tell you of our ancestors in a poncy song whilst you drink ale and stroke Bongbo’s ring”
“No” said Bongbo, “This is homo-erotic subtext at it’s worst. C’mon, we’re leaving this dainty Elf village and sleeping in the woods”
And they did.
And then the Bogrolls descended and chased the midgets into The Mines of Moira Stewart.
Where it was dark and warm – but nothing is to be read into a load of men hiding in dark warm tunnels in their attempted destruction of a ring. No siree.
There was some fighting.
And more singing.
And then a Cave-Troll appeared, but that was rubbish and some eagles flew down and saved them all.
Eventually, they were all on a mountain and Bongbo was polishing his ring.
“Gissa touch of yer ring” said Carton, 1st brother of Bottle The Dwarf.
“No” said Bongbo, “This ring is temptation itself. You may not touch my ring.”
Carton went mental and tried to take Bongbo’s ring by force, but Bongbo got away in a little boat and sailed away.
-------
And at this point, the story ends because I’m bored and want a smoke.
BORED OF MY RINGS
A knock on his door dragged Bongbo from his stupor and he opened it, to find the big wizard Grandelf standing before him.
“Hello Bongbo” said the musty magician; “I task you with a mission”.
“Shove it Beardy” said Bongbo and closed the door, intending to smoke out and fall asleep listening to Elvensong CDs that his midget, hairy-toed relatives had given him for his 111th birthday.
Grandelf had magicked his way into Bongbo’s home and was sitting by the fire.
“Take this ring, midget and don’t give me any grief or I’ll bore you with pixie speak for 2hrs” said the dusty mage.
Bongbo sighed and took the ring, “It’s pikey, what am I supposed to do with this?”
Grandelf shrugged, “Damned if I care. Take it to Bordedor and chuck it in a fire or something.”
Bongbo raised his stout leg and squeezed one out, chuckling as a smoke-ring floated up.
Grandelf waved a hand in front of his big beard “Jesus short-stuff, that reeks”
Bongbo laughed and fell asleep.
The next morning, more midgets turned up and they all sang rubbish songs about pixies until Bongbo bullied them into coming with him on his epic journey.
As they set out, Grandelf warned them of great perils, “There will be great perils”
The midget adventurers all drank ale and sang like little gay cabaret artists as they left The Shire.
After some really dull chapters stuffed with crap about Elves, they were chased by faceless men on horses, but they got away.
“That was lucky,” said Bongbo.
“Not really” smiled Giblet, Son of Flapspuncher the Dwarf.
“Why?” asked Nobby The Nobber, 3rd cousin of Peter the Pixie
“Damned if I know” sighed Bongbo, “Let’s all sing some more”
And they did.
Eventually they reached some town where nothing much happened, they all drank some more and sang.
Like midget Michael Barrymore impersonators.
Especially Bongbo’s fat ginger mate Sam Sandwich, who had issues.
Meanwhile, in some big dark temple, an old wizard made bad-pixies from mud and bits of car engines.
“I shall call you Bogrolls, and you will chase the singing midgets. I want Bongbo’s ring”.
The chief Bogroll, Smeefwap, said, “Isn’t this all a bit symbolic? All this talk of wanting his ring and stuff, I mean come on…”
The old wizard who is known as Smearedon, Mother of Wipeseasy The Magic Goblin looked confused, “I just wish to own Bongbo’s ring. It’s magic and stuff”
The Bogrolls laughed and pointed at the old man in a dress.
“It’s not a bloody dress, it’s a robe” shouted Smearedon.
“Whatever” shrugged Smeefwap and the Bogrolls went out to chase the midgets.
To grab Bongbo’s ring.
The midgets were in the forest of Kwanqaaar, home of the Elves.
The chief Elf, Alan, looked really camp with his long blonde hair and dainty elf mates, who all liked to sing about their forefathers and dance like girls.
“Hello Alan” said Bongbo.
“Ah, a midget” sung Alan, “Let me tell you of our ancestors in a poncy song whilst you drink ale and stroke Bongbo’s ring”
“No” said Bongbo, “This is homo-erotic subtext at it’s worst. C’mon, we’re leaving this dainty Elf village and sleeping in the woods”
And they did.
And then the Bogrolls descended and chased the midgets into The Mines of Moira Stewart.
Where it was dark and warm – but nothing is to be read into a load of men hiding in dark warm tunnels in their attempted destruction of a ring. No siree.
There was some fighting.
And more singing.
And then a Cave-Troll appeared, but that was rubbish and some eagles flew down and saved them all.
Eventually, they were all on a mountain and Bongbo was polishing his ring.
“Gissa touch of yer ring” said Carton, 1st brother of Bottle The Dwarf.
“No” said Bongbo, “This ring is temptation itself. You may not touch my ring.”
Carton went mental and tried to take Bongbo’s ring by force, but Bongbo got away in a little boat and sailed away.
-------
And at this point, the story ends because I’m bored and want a smoke.
BORED OF MY RINGS
Page: