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I did this story before it was cack so im trying again.
Read on at your own risk. See those snipers? Of course you don't. They'd be crap if you did. But you are putting yourself, and any piglets you might be associated with at risk. All details mentioned are perfectly true*.
You might well think that Twiglets are merely breadsticks covered in Marmite, but we have the harrowing truth. In actual fact, we can tell you what really happens, as our reporter, Bill Posters, confronted the chairman of the multi-million pound Twiglet exploitation industry. Mr B. Posters is a daring man, and his sacrifice - he was pasturised with pure unnadulterated blue by the conglomerate when they cought whiff of his plight - will be swiftly forgotten as he only went on this daring escapade to avoid all those who maliciously put up signs saying 'BILL POSTERS WILL BE PROSECUTED'. This is the story an insignificant pawn in the company's game had his balls chopped of with garden shears to bring us.
You may think that the whole Twiglification process is the perfectly kosher application of Marmite to breadsticks, but in actual fact there are no breadsticks involved. It all begins in a small farm in Western Tennesee. In this serene setting where a small family of 3 are the only human inhabitants for several miles, there is a dark secret lurking in the shadows. "I was just checking my mail when I heard a 'baaaaaaaa' that was a few notes higher than the norm that I have assertained to be the mean pitch over my 20 year farming experience," said the owner, who denies all involvement of the following, "and so of course I went over to my pigs to see what had happened." He continues to tell of his horror when he found that all of his piglets were gone. He checked all over the farm; and there was not a trace of them, which was a huge dissapointment as it meant that his father was AWOL.
We traced the piglets to a factory in North Korea, where watched at our disgust as piglets were pushed out of their cages on to a conveyor belt which passed them by a group of paintbrush-weilding employees. We later found that the brushes were dipped in Marmite, and that each of the piglets were at this point coated in a thin layer of Marmite. Next, they were one by one pushed into a huge machine which compressed the piglets individually to the size of a bottle-top. Another group of employees then proceeded to coat each MiniPigletTM with orange juice, which when applied to a MiniPigletTM will keep the freshness in for longer. Another disturbing looking machine, labeled the 'Rabbi De-Nocturnal Swiss Flavour Biscuit' re-expanded the pigletts to normal size. An employee of the company later explained under threat of being coated with orange juice revealed that the system of shrinking then expanding the pigletts came about because the company believed that the change from piglet to Twiglet was far to simple and 'unbureaucratic', so they decided to put several billion pounds into the development of Rabbi De-Nocturnal Swiss Flavour Biscuit and the Shrinkificatory Duct(the machine used to shrink the piglets) told of only in hushed whispers amoungst the key figures in the twiglet exploitation market. Their endevours have payed off, as the process now takes twice the time and results in 76.3% of the original profits on average. The informant was promtly yet humanely executed, as they were bound to be killed in a far more painful way when they were innevitably caught. This method of death is commonly refered to as the 'argh' by those who have been sujected to it, and it mainly consists of large porous Tabasco sauce covered bricks being pushed into every available orifice, whilest having the skin peeled off your feet, a plastic spoon sawing away at a pre-prepared cut on your kneck, your legs waxed, your foreskin cut with blunt and rusty scissors into pretty patterns, a clamp pulling out your tongue, Steps in the background on the same track infinitely and your mouth filled with Brussel sprouts.
We ventured further along the production line, and saw a key stage in the process: 16lbs chickens were hurled at the piglets until they were flat, and then the piglets were rolled up into something that roughly resembles a Twiglet, only longer. Next, the Twiglets to be were put in their cages again. We followed them out of the factory again, this time to Southern Kyrghyzstan. One the arrived, they held a market in a small forest at 1am. hordes of Marmite lovers came out of hiding from around the world, judging by the array of languages spoken, and set about securing one end of each ex-piglet to a branch, then weighing down the other end with non-satirical malevolent cucumbers. This snapped the poor de-pigletified porkers into two. This procedure was repeated until the strips were Twiglet length. The process was nearly complete, and the whole gathering flocked around each demi-Twiglet, one at a time, and started to sing the Lumberjack Song in unison. It was an awesome sight. As they neared the end, the heat of their combined breath cooked the quasi-Twiglets into manly, FULL Twiglets. A terrible tale of suffering such as this could only have been topped by an event so horrendous, so purely evil, that not even the Twiglet exploiters could be bothered to stretch the process out further. So they didn't try.
Thank you thank you please.
Read on at your own risk. See those snipers? Of course you don't. They'd be crap if you did. But you are putting yourself, and any piglets you might be associated with at risk. All details mentioned are perfectly true*.
You might well think that Twiglets are merely breadsticks covered in Marmite, but we have the harrowing truth. In actual fact, we can tell you what really happens, as our reporter, Bill Posters, confronted the chairman of the multi-million pound Twiglet exploitation industry. Mr B. Posters is a daring man, and his sacrifice - he was pasturised with pure unnadulterated blue by the conglomerate when they cought whiff of his plight - will be swiftly forgotten as he only went on this daring escapade to avoid all those who maliciously put up signs saying 'BILL POSTERS WILL BE PROSECUTED'. This is the story an insignificant pawn in the company's game had his balls chopped of with garden shears to bring us.
You may think that the whole Twiglification process is the perfectly kosher application of Marmite to breadsticks, but in actual fact there are no breadsticks involved. It all begins in a small farm in Western Tennesee. In this serene setting where a small family of 3 are the only human inhabitants for several miles, there is a dark secret lurking in the shadows. "I was just checking my mail when I heard a 'baaaaaaaa' that was a few notes higher than the norm that I have assertained to be the mean pitch over my 20 year farming experience," said the owner, who denies all involvement of the following, "and so of course I went over to my pigs to see what had happened." He continues to tell of his horror when he found that all of his piglets were gone. He checked all over the farm; and there was not a trace of them, which was a huge dissapointment as it meant that his father was AWOL.
We traced the piglets to a factory in North Korea, where watched at our disgust as piglets were pushed out of their cages on to a conveyor belt which passed them by a group of paintbrush-weilding employees. We later found that the brushes were dipped in Marmite, and that each of the piglets were at this point coated in a thin layer of Marmite. Next, they were one by one pushed into a huge machine which compressed the piglets individually to the size of a bottle-top. Another group of employees then proceeded to coat each MiniPigletTM with orange juice, which when applied to a MiniPigletTM will keep the freshness in for longer. Another disturbing looking machine, labeled the 'Rabbi De-Nocturnal Swiss Flavour Biscuit' re-expanded the pigletts to normal size. An employee of the company later explained under threat of being coated with orange juice revealed that the system of shrinking then expanding the pigletts came about because the company believed that the change from piglet to Twiglet was far to simple and 'unbureaucratic', so they decided to put several billion pounds into the development of Rabbi De-Nocturnal Swiss Flavour Biscuit and the Shrinkificatory Duct(the machine used to shrink the piglets) told of only in hushed whispers amoungst the key figures in the twiglet exploitation market. Their endevours have payed off, as the process now takes twice the time and results in 76.3% of the original profits on average. The informant was promtly yet humanely executed, as they were bound to be killed in a far more painful way when they were innevitably caught. This method of death is commonly refered to as the 'argh' by those who have been sujected to it, and it mainly consists of large porous Tabasco sauce covered bricks being pushed into every available orifice, whilest having the skin peeled off your feet, a plastic spoon sawing away at a pre-prepared cut on your kneck, your legs waxed, your foreskin cut with blunt and rusty scissors into pretty patterns, a clamp pulling out your tongue, Steps in the background on the same track infinitely and your mouth filled with Brussel sprouts.
We ventured further along the production line, and saw a key stage in the process: 16lbs chickens were hurled at the piglets until they were flat, and then the piglets were rolled up into something that roughly resembles a Twiglet, only longer. Next, the Twiglets to be were put in their cages again. We followed them out of the factory again, this time to Southern Kyrghyzstan. One the arrived, they held a market in a small forest at 1am. hordes of Marmite lovers came out of hiding from around the world, judging by the array of languages spoken, and set about securing one end of each ex-piglet to a branch, then weighing down the other end with non-satirical malevolent cucumbers. This snapped the poor de-pigletified porkers into two. This procedure was repeated until the strips were Twiglet length. The process was nearly complete, and the whole gathering flocked around each demi-Twiglet, one at a time, and started to sing the Lumberjack Song in unison. It was an awesome sight. As they neared the end, the heat of their combined breath cooked the quasi-Twiglets into manly, FULL Twiglets. A terrible tale of suffering such as this could only have been topped by an event so horrendous, so purely evil, that not even the Twiglet exploiters could be bothered to stretch the process out further. So they didn't try.
Thank you thank you please.
Page:
Wooooooow my story was'nt cack im proud.
More comments please good or ba good or better. :D
Hatemail anyone?
More comments please good or ba good or better. :D
Hatemail anyone?
*sigh*
I could do with a good twiglet now.
Nice improvement mate, thumbs up.
I could do with a good twiglet now.
Nice improvement mate, thumbs up.
I did this story before it was cack so im trying again.
Read on at your own risk. See those snipers? Of course you don't. They'd be crap if you did. But you are putting yourself, and any piglets you might be associated with at risk. All details mentioned are perfectly true*.
You might well think that Twiglets are merely breadsticks covered in Marmite, but we have the harrowing truth. In actual fact, we can tell you what really happens, as our reporter, Bill Posters, confronted the chairman of the multi-million pound Twiglet exploitation industry. Mr B. Posters is a daring man, and his sacrifice - he was pasturised with pure unnadulterated blue by the conglomerate when they cought whiff of his plight - will be swiftly forgotten as he only went on this daring escapade to avoid all those who maliciously put up signs saying 'BILL POSTERS WILL BE PROSECUTED'. This is the story an insignificant pawn in the company's game had his balls chopped of with garden shears to bring us.
You may think that the whole Twiglification process is the perfectly kosher application of Marmite to breadsticks, but in actual fact there are no breadsticks involved. It all begins in a small farm in Western Tennesee. In this serene setting where a small family of 3 are the only human inhabitants for several miles, there is a dark secret lurking in the shadows. "I was just checking my mail when I heard a 'baaaaaaaa' that was a few notes higher than the norm that I have assertained to be the mean pitch over my 20 year farming experience," said the owner, who denies all involvement of the following, "and so of course I went over to my pigs to see what had happened." He continues to tell of his horror when he found that all of his piglets were gone. He checked all over the farm; and there was not a trace of them, which was a huge dissapointment as it meant that his father was AWOL.
We traced the piglets to a factory in North Korea, where watched at our disgust as piglets were pushed out of their cages on to a conveyor belt which passed them by a group of paintbrush-weilding employees. We later found that the brushes were dipped in Marmite, and that each of the piglets were at this point coated in a thin layer of Marmite. Next, they were one by one pushed into a huge machine which compressed the piglets individually to the size of a bottle-top. Another group of employees then proceeded to coat each MiniPigletTM with orange juice, which when applied to a MiniPigletTM will keep the freshness in for longer. Another disturbing looking machine, labeled the 'Rabbi De-Nocturnal Swiss Flavour Biscuit' re-expanded the pigletts to normal size. An employee of the company later explained under threat of being coated with orange juice revealed that the system of shrinking then expanding the pigletts came about because the company believed that the change from piglet to Twiglet was far to simple and 'unbureaucratic', so they decided to put several billion pounds into the development of Rabbi De-Nocturnal Swiss Flavour Biscuit and the Shrinkificatory Duct(the machine used to shrink the piglets) told of only in hushed whispers amoungst the key figures in the twiglet exploitation market. Their endevours have payed off, as the process now takes twice the time and results in 76.3% of the original profits on average. The informant was promtly yet humanely executed, as they were bound to be killed in a far more painful way when they were innevitably caught. This method of death is commonly refered to as the 'argh' by those who have been sujected to it, and it mainly consists of large porous Tabasco sauce covered bricks being pushed into every available orifice, whilest having the skin peeled off your feet, a plastic spoon sawing away at a pre-prepared cut on your kneck, your legs waxed, your foreskin cut with blunt and rusty scissors into pretty patterns, a clamp pulling out your tongue, Steps in the background on the same track infinitely and your mouth filled with Brussel sprouts.
We ventured further along the production line, and saw a key stage in the process: 16lbs chickens were hurled at the piglets until they were flat, and then the piglets were rolled up into something that roughly resembles a Twiglet, only longer. Next, the Twiglets to be were put in their cages again. We followed them out of the factory again, this time to Southern Kyrghyzstan. One the arrived, they held a market in a small forest at 1am. hordes of Marmite lovers came out of hiding from around the world, judging by the array of languages spoken, and set about securing one end of each ex-piglet to a branch, then weighing down the other end with non-satirical malevolent cucumbers. This snapped the poor de-pigletified porkers into two. This procedure was repeated until the strips were Twiglet length. The process was nearly complete, and the whole gathering flocked around each demi-Twiglet, one at a time, and started to sing the Lumberjack Song in unison. It was an awesome sight. As they neared the end, the heat of their combined breath cooked the quasi-Twiglets into manly, FULL Twiglets. A terrible tale of suffering such as this could only have been topped by an event so horrendous, so purely evil, that not even the Twiglet exploiters could be bothered to stretch the process out further. So they didn't try.
Thank you thank you please.
Read on at your own risk. See those snipers? Of course you don't. They'd be crap if you did. But you are putting yourself, and any piglets you might be associated with at risk. All details mentioned are perfectly true*.
You might well think that Twiglets are merely breadsticks covered in Marmite, but we have the harrowing truth. In actual fact, we can tell you what really happens, as our reporter, Bill Posters, confronted the chairman of the multi-million pound Twiglet exploitation industry. Mr B. Posters is a daring man, and his sacrifice - he was pasturised with pure unnadulterated blue by the conglomerate when they cought whiff of his plight - will be swiftly forgotten as he only went on this daring escapade to avoid all those who maliciously put up signs saying 'BILL POSTERS WILL BE PROSECUTED'. This is the story an insignificant pawn in the company's game had his balls chopped of with garden shears to bring us.
You may think that the whole Twiglification process is the perfectly kosher application of Marmite to breadsticks, but in actual fact there are no breadsticks involved. It all begins in a small farm in Western Tennesee. In this serene setting where a small family of 3 are the only human inhabitants for several miles, there is a dark secret lurking in the shadows. "I was just checking my mail when I heard a 'baaaaaaaa' that was a few notes higher than the norm that I have assertained to be the mean pitch over my 20 year farming experience," said the owner, who denies all involvement of the following, "and so of course I went over to my pigs to see what had happened." He continues to tell of his horror when he found that all of his piglets were gone. He checked all over the farm; and there was not a trace of them, which was a huge dissapointment as it meant that his father was AWOL.
We traced the piglets to a factory in North Korea, where watched at our disgust as piglets were pushed out of their cages on to a conveyor belt which passed them by a group of paintbrush-weilding employees. We later found that the brushes were dipped in Marmite, and that each of the piglets were at this point coated in a thin layer of Marmite. Next, they were one by one pushed into a huge machine which compressed the piglets individually to the size of a bottle-top. Another group of employees then proceeded to coat each MiniPigletTM with orange juice, which when applied to a MiniPigletTM will keep the freshness in for longer. Another disturbing looking machine, labeled the 'Rabbi De-Nocturnal Swiss Flavour Biscuit' re-expanded the pigletts to normal size. An employee of the company later explained under threat of being coated with orange juice revealed that the system of shrinking then expanding the pigletts came about because the company believed that the change from piglet to Twiglet was far to simple and 'unbureaucratic', so they decided to put several billion pounds into the development of Rabbi De-Nocturnal Swiss Flavour Biscuit and the Shrinkificatory Duct(the machine used to shrink the piglets) told of only in hushed whispers amoungst the key figures in the twiglet exploitation market. Their endevours have payed off, as the process now takes twice the time and results in 76.3% of the original profits on average. The informant was promtly yet humanely executed, as they were bound to be killed in a far more painful way when they were innevitably caught. This method of death is commonly refered to as the 'argh' by those who have been sujected to it, and it mainly consists of large porous Tabasco sauce covered bricks being pushed into every available orifice, whilest having the skin peeled off your feet, a plastic spoon sawing away at a pre-prepared cut on your kneck, your legs waxed, your foreskin cut with blunt and rusty scissors into pretty patterns, a clamp pulling out your tongue, Steps in the background on the same track infinitely and your mouth filled with Brussel sprouts.
We ventured further along the production line, and saw a key stage in the process: 16lbs chickens were hurled at the piglets until they were flat, and then the piglets were rolled up into something that roughly resembles a Twiglet, only longer. Next, the Twiglets to be were put in their cages again. We followed them out of the factory again, this time to Southern Kyrghyzstan. One the arrived, they held a market in a small forest at 1am. hordes of Marmite lovers came out of hiding from around the world, judging by the array of languages spoken, and set about securing one end of each ex-piglet to a branch, then weighing down the other end with non-satirical malevolent cucumbers. This snapped the poor de-pigletified porkers into two. This procedure was repeated until the strips were Twiglet length. The process was nearly complete, and the whole gathering flocked around each demi-Twiglet, one at a time, and started to sing the Lumberjack Song in unison. It was an awesome sight. As they neared the end, the heat of their combined breath cooked the quasi-Twiglets into manly, FULL Twiglets. A terrible tale of suffering such as this could only have been topped by an event so horrendous, so purely evil, that not even the Twiglet exploiters could be bothered to stretch the process out further. So they didn't try.
Thank you thank you please.
Page: