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It's a normal day at the SR offices, the afternoon's chair racing has just finished with Mr Snuggly emerging as the triumphant victor once more. He sits back, satisfied in the knowledge that he has held off Darkus yet again.
Mr Snuggly: Heh, you lot just aren't good enough.
Darkus: *Glowers*
Mr Snuggly: Oh well, back to work.
*Picks up a pin from the desk*
Let's see now
*Looks away and stabs pin into piece of paper in front of him*
Aha, Meka Dragon wins another one.
Loki: Huh!! But Meka hasn't posted anything today.
Mr Snuggly: Ah, Damn!
*Stabs pin again*
What about El Blokey?
Loki: Nope.
Mr Snuggly: *Stabs pin again*
Mojojojo?
Loki: Er...yeah, he posted some sort of spoof.
Mr Snuggly: Is it any good?
Loki: Not reeeeeealy.
Mr Snuggly: Ah never mind, nobody actually reads the things anyway.
*Awards GAD to Mojojojo*
*Darkus approaches holding a letter*
Darkus: For you.
Mr Snuggly: What is it?
*Opens letter*
Letter reads: Dear Mr Snuggly, certain recent events give us reason to believe that you have been dishonest with regards to company policy. You have broken rule 126554a that quite clearly states: 'Thou shalt not replace other staff's wheely chairs with the common four-legged variety for the daily chair races'.
It is therefore with great rejoicing we can finally sack you. Go on, get out of here, go!!
Regards
Management
Mr Snuggly: Wha.....
Darkus: *Sniggers*
Bye
Mr Snuggly: Wait, I'm allowed to call my lawyer.
Darkus: Go ahead.
Mr Snuggly: MR GREENBAUM!!
Darkus: There, now scram.
Mr Snuggly: Hold it, I've got to see my agent.
Darkus: *Produces photo*
Better? Now get lost loser!!
*Throws Snuggly out the door*
Mr Snuggly: I hated this job anyway, I was wasted here.
----------------------------------
Next day and Mr Snuggly is in the local jobcentre trying to find a new job.
Mystique: Hmm, what common skills do you have sir?
Mr Snuggly: Oh tons. I, er, wellllll, I, award GADS, errrrrrrrrr, and.............er, and stuff.
Mystique: Riggght, er, is there anything else?
Mr Snuggly: Eerrrrrrmmmmmmmm.........................oh yes, I'm the office chair racing champion.
Mystique: *coughs*
Mr Snuggly: I used to be in the school football team as well.
Mystique: Well I think I may have a job to suit you sir, how about this: Football sub for the Torquay 3rd team.
Mr Snuggly: Wow yes, sounds right up my alley. I'm a bit nifty with the old one, twos.
*Takes apple off desk and kicks toward nowhere in particular*
*Glass cabinet smashes*
Mystique: *Worried look*
Don't worry about it sir, now I'll just read you the terms and conditions of employment.
Mr Snuggly: I'm, er, dreadfully sorry. I am actually quite good normally.
Mystique: 1. You must be over the age of five.
Mr Snuggly: I used to do this kind of flip up thing.....
*Ineffectually tries to flip the apple and falls on his back, knocking his chair over*
Mystique: 2. You must not have killed anybody in the last week.
Mr Snuggly: ....and there was this knock-on thingummy.....
*Misses apple and trips himself up*
Mystique: 3. You must be able to cook meat pies and prawn toasties.
Mr Snuggly: .....the one where it goes through their legs.....
*Toe-punts apple into vase, which breaks*
Mystique: 4. You must know the history of Pythagoras' Theorem and how that translates into kicking power.
Mr Snuggly: ...and don't forget the twirly thingy....
*Spins round and breaks leg off desk, which promptly collapses*
Mystique: 5. You must have basic football skills.
Mr Snuggly: .....and then the flying crossover watsit...
*Swipes hard at apple which ricochets off two walls, knocks a painting down, smashes the lightshade and finally comes down to rest in Mystique's top*
I'll get that out.......I mean, er, sorry.
Mystique: ............
Mr Snuggly: Right, thanks for the help, I'll nip along there now and inform the lucky team of what a fortunate find they've come across.
*Leaves the shambles of an office*
Mystique: .............
--------------------------
At the clubhouse of Torquay United 3rd team.
Solskjaer: So you want to join our merry band of footballers do you?
Mr Snuggly: Well, yes. I thought I'd start at this level before working my way into a Premiership side
Solskjaer: *Impressed*
Wow, you must be helluva good with such high aspirations.
Mr Snuggly: *Preens*
Well, it's kind of an innate ability really, sixth sense you know.
Solskjaer: Well if you'll just provide us with a few details.
*Pulls out sheet*
First can we have your name?
Mr Snuggly: M-R S-N-U-G-G-L-Y OCRC
Solskjaer: What do the letters after your name stand for?
Mr Snuggly: Office Chair Racing Champ.
Solsjaer: Ah.
*Glances at sheet*
Anway, can I now have your Bank and account number?
Mr Snuggly: Barclloyds TSP, and 1234567890.
Solskjaer: Lovely.
*Writes on paper*
Now then
*Reads from sheet*
Can I now have a specimen of the victi.......er, recruit's signature.
Mr Snuggly: *Scrawls laboriously on paper*
Solskjaer: Heck!! Er, which way up does it go?
Mr Snuggly: Don't worry, I often get confused myself. The bit with the dangly loops goes at the bottom.
Solskjaer: OK, nearly there now.
*Looks at sheet again*
Ah yes, finally we need the PIN number for your bank account, it helps us pick which number goes on your shirt you see.
Mr Snuggly: Ah yes, very innovative. My PIN number is 666.
Solskjaer: Good, thanks very much.
Mr Snuggly: Don't you want me to sign a contract?
Solskjaer: No, we always finalise our deals by a toast.
*Pours wine into two glasses and hands one to Snuggly*
Mr Snuggly: Cheers.
*Drains glass*
Solskjaer: It's also traditional to smash our glasses on the fireplace.
Mr Snuggly: Oh, OK.
*Sound of smashing glass*
Solskjaer: Now then, if you'd care to glance at this formation sheet.
Mr Snuggly: Errrr, I can't see it, I just smashed my glasses on the fireplace don't forget.
Solskjaer: ..............
*Recovers*
Never mind, the next match is tomorrow at 2:30 pm, be there.
Mr Snuggly: Will do.
-------------------------------
That night Mr Snuggly gets home, starts up his PC and logs onto ukchatforums.
Mr Snuggly: Hmmm, now which of my non-staff aliases shall I log on as, Meka, PB, or Stryke? I'll actually have to do some decent entries to win GADs now that I can no longer award them to myself.
*Thinks*
Or I could make things easier for myself and start up a new user under the name of Georgeous Blonde Babe; that'll win me loads of GADs.
*Starts typing*
---------------------------
Next day at the football match.
Flanders: Hello and welcome to Radio Footytastic, your number one choice for local football coverage, sponsored by Wibble, the tyres of the future.
Our match today is between home team Torquay 3rds, and away team Isle of Wight 4ths. This promises to be a great sporting occasion which will keep you tense and excited to the very finish, so nail your knees to the radio as the match will begin in about five minutes.
Now there is a new player for the Torquay 3rds who.....
"Squeeeezo, squeeeeezo, squeeeeezo, squeeeeezooooooooo, the lemon juice for every occasion. Obtain your Squeezo Lemon Juice from any participating shops".
Flanders: Right, welcome back to Radio Footytastic. As I was saying before the commercial break Torquay 3rds have a new player in the starting line-up who has replaced SR Dude in a midfield position. His name is errr, *reads note* Mr Snuffly, and the Torquay manager seems very excited to have him playing today.
The match is just getting underway now as the Isle of Wight take the kick-off. I er, seem to have lost my name sheet so you'll have to bear with me.
The ball now gets knocked back to the IOW central midfield, and here comes the new player Snuffly. And...YES....and Snuffly takes the ball and er...........and he er, picks it up and sprints towards the opposing goal. Unbelievable!! Mr Snuffly has just scored a try for Torquay. Unfortunately the referee won't allow it and awards a free kick to IOW. The kick is quickly taken and.....
"Are you looking for a gift for a dearly loved family member or friend, can't find anything suitable? Well here's just what you've been looking for. Petsovernight.com offers a fast delivery on any kind of pet you want, from a panda bear to a piglet. Whatever you petting needs we can meet them. Petsovernight.com, delivering little bundles of love to your door".
Flanders: Hi and welcome back to Radio Footytastic. The ball is now threaded through to the IOW attackers who play around with it a bit, and they're on the break now and they.......shoooooooooooot.......and its a gooooooooooaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaallllllllllllllllllllllll.
Um, apparently not actually, but it certainly looked like it from here. Never mind, here comes Mendax for Torquay, famous for his inance drivelling. Passes to Dringo. Passes to Mendax. Passes to Dringo. This is really exciting stuff. Passes to Mendax now. Passes to Dringo. Passes to Mendax. Passes to Dringo. Passes to Mendax. Passes to.............zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
Mmmmflaywha....? Oh, ah, right. Welcome back to Radio Footytastic. Mr Snuffly is on the ball again, takes it past one defender, and another, only the goalie to beat........sssssscooooooooooorrrrrrrrreesssss!!!!!
Huh, ah. It appears Mr Snuffly has scored an own goal; the IOW strikers are jeering at him madly down there.
IOW Striker: Hahahaha, Snuggly is a cockface, cockface, cockface. Snuggly licks balls.
Flanders: Poor Mr Snuffly is receiving some stick from his team-mates too.
Mendax Bartender: You indolent, myopic, obstreperous recidivist you. Galoory et cum las fortuiton est.
Flanders: Yes, well. The game will now continue anyway.
*Opens crisps*
Hobbo passes *munch* to Mendax, who *munch* *munch* and lovely bit of skill there, oh, and yes, ammaaaazing, *munch* *munch* and he, my yes that was good, controlled well *munch* and the referee was a bit harsh there, but oh yes, wow that was surprising *munch* and that fooled them for sure *munch* and my goodness what a match this is turning out to.......
"R-R-R-R-R-R-R-Radio Footytastic, your number one choice for local sports coverage. Paints such a vivid picture you'll never need the TV again".
Flanders: Yes and welcome back to Radio Footytastic. Mr Snuffly has the ball once more in a great shooting position, will he take the opportunity,,,,,,,,,,,? Erm...no, instead he decides to leap in the air like a demented eggwhisk, misses the ball entirely and decapitates his nearby team-mate; Totoro.
There's blood everywhere and I can't quite see what's going on. Hang on, oh my goodness that's horrific, I can now see that Totoro has........
"Got a lengthy snitch? Need it shortening? Come to Botcho Operations, we can perform any kind of facial surgery you like with a reasonably high survival rate. Here is one of our many satisfied customers: "Botcho sure did a great job on my nose, OK my ears fell off soon after and I am in great pain, but my nose is just great". Now that's the kind of satisfaction we give to our customers. Come in today".
Much later.............
Flanders: We're into the final minute of stoppage time now, IOW are still leading one goal to nil, but here come Torquay on the break, Dringo passes to Hobbo, Hobbo goes round the defender and passes to Mr Snuffly, it rebounds off Snuffly's backside into the path of Mendax, Mendax to Hercules, Hercules has the space, one-on-one with the keeper, goes round the keeper, gentle tap and its iiiiiiiiiii..............and Mr Snuffly has tripped over his shoelaces once again and deflects Hercules' shot away from goal.
But the blind referee thought Snuffly was fouled and has awarded a penalty. This is the last chance for Torquay now, the whistle will blow as soon as this is taken. Oh no, Mr Snuffly has stepped up to take the penalty. Let us pray. If this goes in we will go into extra time, if it misses IOW will win the match.
*Total silence in the grounds except for Solskjaer who is screaming obscenities at Mr Snuggly*
Flanders: And here comes Snuffly, he shoo.....er, steps on the ball and falls flat on his face. The goalkeeper scoops it up and clears downfield as the whistle blows. IOW have won the match.
--------------------
In the dressing rooms.
Mr Snuggly: Sorry about that, I wasn't quite on top form.
Solskjaer: CENSORED - For the more faint-hearted readers.
Mr Snuggly: *Taken aback*
Well if that's the way you feel then I'll take my skills to another team who show more appreciation than you do.
Solskjaer: CENSORED - For the more faint-hearted readers.
-----------------------
Next day and Mr Snuggly is in the local jobcentre again looking for another job.
Mr Snuggly: Hello
Mystique: *Runs sobbing from the room*
Mr Snuggly: Poor girl, she must be having family problems.
*Sees job ad on desk*
Ad: Special Reserve seek an experienced GAD picker who can start work immediately. The situation is urgent so all applications will be considered.
Mr Snuggly: I wonder...............
And that is the story of Mr Snuggly's sacking. I'm sure he'd rather have kept quiet about it, but we're all glad to see him back. Things are almost back to usual now, Meka and PB have started recieving their usual frequent GADs, and Darkus still bears a grudge about Mr Snuggly's chair racing madskillz. ;-)
Hope you enjoyed reading it.
Little Hobbo
Mr Snuggly: Heh, you lot just aren't good enough.
Darkus: *Glowers*
Mr Snuggly: Oh well, back to work.
*Picks up a pin from the desk*
Let's see now
*Looks away and stabs pin into piece of paper in front of him*
Aha, Meka Dragon wins another one.
Loki: Huh!! But Meka hasn't posted anything today.
Mr Snuggly: Ah, Damn!
*Stabs pin again*
What about El Blokey?
Loki: Nope.
Mr Snuggly: *Stabs pin again*
Mojojojo?
Loki: Er...yeah, he posted some sort of spoof.
Mr Snuggly: Is it any good?
Loki: Not reeeeeealy.
Mr Snuggly: Ah never mind, nobody actually reads the things anyway.
*Awards GAD to Mojojojo*
*Darkus approaches holding a letter*
Darkus: For you.
Mr Snuggly: What is it?
*Opens letter*
Letter reads: Dear Mr Snuggly, certain recent events give us reason to believe that you have been dishonest with regards to company policy. You have broken rule 126554a that quite clearly states: 'Thou shalt not replace other staff's wheely chairs with the common four-legged variety for the daily chair races'.
It is therefore with great rejoicing we can finally sack you. Go on, get out of here, go!!
Regards
Management
Mr Snuggly: Wha.....
Darkus: *Sniggers*
Bye
Mr Snuggly: Wait, I'm allowed to call my lawyer.
Darkus: Go ahead.
Mr Snuggly: MR GREENBAUM!!
Darkus: There, now scram.
Mr Snuggly: Hold it, I've got to see my agent.
Darkus: *Produces photo*
Better? Now get lost loser!!
*Throws Snuggly out the door*
Mr Snuggly: I hated this job anyway, I was wasted here.
----------------------------------
Next day and Mr Snuggly is in the local jobcentre trying to find a new job.
Mystique: Hmm, what common skills do you have sir?
Mr Snuggly: Oh tons. I, er, wellllll, I, award GADS, errrrrrrrrr, and.............er, and stuff.
Mystique: Riggght, er, is there anything else?
Mr Snuggly: Eerrrrrrmmmmmmmm.........................oh yes, I'm the office chair racing champion.
Mystique: *coughs*
Mr Snuggly: I used to be in the school football team as well.
Mystique: Well I think I may have a job to suit you sir, how about this: Football sub for the Torquay 3rd team.
Mr Snuggly: Wow yes, sounds right up my alley. I'm a bit nifty with the old one, twos.
*Takes apple off desk and kicks toward nowhere in particular*
*Glass cabinet smashes*
Mystique: *Worried look*
Don't worry about it sir, now I'll just read you the terms and conditions of employment.
Mr Snuggly: I'm, er, dreadfully sorry. I am actually quite good normally.
Mystique: 1. You must be over the age of five.
Mr Snuggly: I used to do this kind of flip up thing.....
*Ineffectually tries to flip the apple and falls on his back, knocking his chair over*
Mystique: 2. You must not have killed anybody in the last week.
Mr Snuggly: ....and there was this knock-on thingummy.....
*Misses apple and trips himself up*
Mystique: 3. You must be able to cook meat pies and prawn toasties.
Mr Snuggly: .....the one where it goes through their legs.....
*Toe-punts apple into vase, which breaks*
Mystique: 4. You must know the history of Pythagoras' Theorem and how that translates into kicking power.
Mr Snuggly: ...and don't forget the twirly thingy....
*Spins round and breaks leg off desk, which promptly collapses*
Mystique: 5. You must have basic football skills.
Mr Snuggly: .....and then the flying crossover watsit...
*Swipes hard at apple which ricochets off two walls, knocks a painting down, smashes the lightshade and finally comes down to rest in Mystique's top*
I'll get that out.......I mean, er, sorry.
Mystique: ............
Mr Snuggly: Right, thanks for the help, I'll nip along there now and inform the lucky team of what a fortunate find they've come across.
*Leaves the shambles of an office*
Mystique: .............
--------------------------
At the clubhouse of Torquay United 3rd team.
Solskjaer: So you want to join our merry band of footballers do you?
Mr Snuggly: Well, yes. I thought I'd start at this level before working my way into a Premiership side
Solskjaer: *Impressed*
Wow, you must be helluva good with such high aspirations.
Mr Snuggly: *Preens*
Well, it's kind of an innate ability really, sixth sense you know.
Solskjaer: Well if you'll just provide us with a few details.
*Pulls out sheet*
First can we have your name?
Mr Snuggly: M-R S-N-U-G-G-L-Y OCRC
Solskjaer: What do the letters after your name stand for?
Mr Snuggly: Office Chair Racing Champ.
Solsjaer: Ah.
*Glances at sheet*
Anway, can I now have your Bank and account number?
Mr Snuggly: Barclloyds TSP, and 1234567890.
Solskjaer: Lovely.
*Writes on paper*
Now then
*Reads from sheet*
Can I now have a specimen of the victi.......er, recruit's signature.
Mr Snuggly: *Scrawls laboriously on paper*
Solskjaer: Heck!! Er, which way up does it go?
Mr Snuggly: Don't worry, I often get confused myself. The bit with the dangly loops goes at the bottom.
Solskjaer: OK, nearly there now.
*Looks at sheet again*
Ah yes, finally we need the PIN number for your bank account, it helps us pick which number goes on your shirt you see.
Mr Snuggly: Ah yes, very innovative. My PIN number is 666.
Solskjaer: Good, thanks very much.
Mr Snuggly: Don't you want me to sign a contract?
Solskjaer: No, we always finalise our deals by a toast.
*Pours wine into two glasses and hands one to Snuggly*
Mr Snuggly: Cheers.
*Drains glass*
Solskjaer: It's also traditional to smash our glasses on the fireplace.
Mr Snuggly: Oh, OK.
*Sound of smashing glass*
Solskjaer: Now then, if you'd care to glance at this formation sheet.
Mr Snuggly: Errrr, I can't see it, I just smashed my glasses on the fireplace don't forget.
Solskjaer: ..............
*Recovers*
Never mind, the next match is tomorrow at 2:30 pm, be there.
Mr Snuggly: Will do.
-------------------------------
That night Mr Snuggly gets home, starts up his PC and logs onto ukchatforums.
Mr Snuggly: Hmmm, now which of my non-staff aliases shall I log on as, Meka, PB, or Stryke? I'll actually have to do some decent entries to win GADs now that I can no longer award them to myself.
*Thinks*
Or I could make things easier for myself and start up a new user under the name of Georgeous Blonde Babe; that'll win me loads of GADs.
*Starts typing*
---------------------------
Next day at the football match.
Flanders: Hello and welcome to Radio Footytastic, your number one choice for local football coverage, sponsored by Wibble, the tyres of the future.
Our match today is between home team Torquay 3rds, and away team Isle of Wight 4ths. This promises to be a great sporting occasion which will keep you tense and excited to the very finish, so nail your knees to the radio as the match will begin in about five minutes.
Now there is a new player for the Torquay 3rds who.....
"Squeeeezo, squeeeeezo, squeeeeezo, squeeeeezooooooooo, the lemon juice for every occasion. Obtain your Squeezo Lemon Juice from any participating shops".
Flanders: Right, welcome back to Radio Footytastic. As I was saying before the commercial break Torquay 3rds have a new player in the starting line-up who has replaced SR Dude in a midfield position. His name is errr, *reads note* Mr Snuffly, and the Torquay manager seems very excited to have him playing today.
The match is just getting underway now as the Isle of Wight take the kick-off. I er, seem to have lost my name sheet so you'll have to bear with me.
The ball now gets knocked back to the IOW central midfield, and here comes the new player Snuffly. And...YES....and Snuffly takes the ball and er...........and he er, picks it up and sprints towards the opposing goal. Unbelievable!! Mr Snuffly has just scored a try for Torquay. Unfortunately the referee won't allow it and awards a free kick to IOW. The kick is quickly taken and.....
"Are you looking for a gift for a dearly loved family member or friend, can't find anything suitable? Well here's just what you've been looking for. Petsovernight.com offers a fast delivery on any kind of pet you want, from a panda bear to a piglet. Whatever you petting needs we can meet them. Petsovernight.com, delivering little bundles of love to your door".
Flanders: Hi and welcome back to Radio Footytastic. The ball is now threaded through to the IOW attackers who play around with it a bit, and they're on the break now and they.......shoooooooooooot.......and its a gooooooooooaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaallllllllllllllllllllllll.
Um, apparently not actually, but it certainly looked like it from here. Never mind, here comes Mendax for Torquay, famous for his inance drivelling. Passes to Dringo. Passes to Mendax. Passes to Dringo. This is really exciting stuff. Passes to Mendax now. Passes to Dringo. Passes to Mendax. Passes to Dringo. Passes to Mendax. Passes to.............zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
Mmmmflaywha....? Oh, ah, right. Welcome back to Radio Footytastic. Mr Snuffly is on the ball again, takes it past one defender, and another, only the goalie to beat........sssssscooooooooooorrrrrrrrreesssss!!!!!
Huh, ah. It appears Mr Snuffly has scored an own goal; the IOW strikers are jeering at him madly down there.
IOW Striker: Hahahaha, Snuggly is a cockface, cockface, cockface. Snuggly licks balls.
Flanders: Poor Mr Snuffly is receiving some stick from his team-mates too.
Mendax Bartender: You indolent, myopic, obstreperous recidivist you. Galoory et cum las fortuiton est.
Flanders: Yes, well. The game will now continue anyway.
*Opens crisps*
Hobbo passes *munch* to Mendax, who *munch* *munch* and lovely bit of skill there, oh, and yes, ammaaaazing, *munch* *munch* and he, my yes that was good, controlled well *munch* and the referee was a bit harsh there, but oh yes, wow that was surprising *munch* and that fooled them for sure *munch* and my goodness what a match this is turning out to.......
"R-R-R-R-R-R-R-Radio Footytastic, your number one choice for local sports coverage. Paints such a vivid picture you'll never need the TV again".
Flanders: Yes and welcome back to Radio Footytastic. Mr Snuffly has the ball once more in a great shooting position, will he take the opportunity,,,,,,,,,,,? Erm...no, instead he decides to leap in the air like a demented eggwhisk, misses the ball entirely and decapitates his nearby team-mate; Totoro.
There's blood everywhere and I can't quite see what's going on. Hang on, oh my goodness that's horrific, I can now see that Totoro has........
"Got a lengthy snitch? Need it shortening? Come to Botcho Operations, we can perform any kind of facial surgery you like with a reasonably high survival rate. Here is one of our many satisfied customers: "Botcho sure did a great job on my nose, OK my ears fell off soon after and I am in great pain, but my nose is just great". Now that's the kind of satisfaction we give to our customers. Come in today".
Much later.............
Flanders: We're into the final minute of stoppage time now, IOW are still leading one goal to nil, but here come Torquay on the break, Dringo passes to Hobbo, Hobbo goes round the defender and passes to Mr Snuffly, it rebounds off Snuffly's backside into the path of Mendax, Mendax to Hercules, Hercules has the space, one-on-one with the keeper, goes round the keeper, gentle tap and its iiiiiiiiiii..............and Mr Snuffly has tripped over his shoelaces once again and deflects Hercules' shot away from goal.
But the blind referee thought Snuffly was fouled and has awarded a penalty. This is the last chance for Torquay now, the whistle will blow as soon as this is taken. Oh no, Mr Snuffly has stepped up to take the penalty. Let us pray. If this goes in we will go into extra time, if it misses IOW will win the match.
*Total silence in the grounds except for Solskjaer who is screaming obscenities at Mr Snuggly*
Flanders: And here comes Snuffly, he shoo.....er, steps on the ball and falls flat on his face. The goalkeeper scoops it up and clears downfield as the whistle blows. IOW have won the match.
--------------------
In the dressing rooms.
Mr Snuggly: Sorry about that, I wasn't quite on top form.
Solskjaer: CENSORED - For the more faint-hearted readers.
Mr Snuggly: *Taken aback*
Well if that's the way you feel then I'll take my skills to another team who show more appreciation than you do.
Solskjaer: CENSORED - For the more faint-hearted readers.
-----------------------
Next day and Mr Snuggly is in the local jobcentre again looking for another job.
Mr Snuggly: Hello
Mystique: *Runs sobbing from the room*
Mr Snuggly: Poor girl, she must be having family problems.
*Sees job ad on desk*
Ad: Special Reserve seek an experienced GAD picker who can start work immediately. The situation is urgent so all applications will be considered.
Mr Snuggly: I wonder...............
And that is the story of Mr Snuggly's sacking. I'm sure he'd rather have kept quiet about it, but we're all glad to see him back. Things are almost back to usual now, Meka and PB have started recieving their usual frequent GADs, and Darkus still bears a grudge about Mr Snuggly's chair racing madskillz. ;-)
Hope you enjoyed reading it.
Little Hobbo
Page:
Cheers for the comments guys. :-)
The best my Latin teacher came out with was Caudex which apparantley means blockhead.
Little Hobbo wrote:
> Don't suppose you can supply a more authentic Latin blasphemy can you?
> :-)
How about:
Caesar adsum jam forte
> Don't suppose you can supply a more authentic Latin blasphemy can you?
> :-)
How about:
Caesar adsum jam forte
got about 3/4 of the way thru when i got sick of it but great up unitl there none-the-less
Veeeeery long, made my eyes bleed. Good read though!
Surely Ascendo Tuum means "I go up yours"
Little Hobbo wrote:
> Don't suppose you can supply a more authentic Latin blasphemy can you?
> :-)
personally I would have thought that "tu es vermis" would have sufficed.
Alternatively:
Ascendo tuum - Up yours
Aspice, officio fungeris sine spe honoris amplioris - Face it, you're stuck in a dead end job
Tu es Non Gradus Anus Rodentum - you're not worth a rat's a$s
> Don't suppose you can supply a more authentic Latin blasphemy can you?
> :-)
personally I would have thought that "tu es vermis" would have sufficed.
Alternatively:
Ascendo tuum - Up yours
Aspice, officio fungeris sine spe honoris amplioris - Face it, you're stuck in a dead end job
Tu es Non Gradus Anus Rodentum - you're not worth a rat's a$s
Brilliant post, I Reply again when I get home from school.
Don't suppose you can supply a more authentic Latin blasphemy can you? :-)
Mendax Bartender: You indolent, myopic, obstreperous recidivist you. Galoory et cum las fortuiton est
class.
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