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In free.uk.talk.sheffield, Peter Hucker says...
On Sat, 21 Feb 2004 19:08:01 +0000, Screamingwitch.²°°³© witcheee@evil****er.**** wrote: On Sat, 21 Feb 2004 19:00:39 +0000 (UTC), Peter Hucker cacked this treat out!! More blithering ****e. and you hang on to evry word dontcha? ****licker Did you know you can lose your ISP account for large sigs? Go on and report her, phuker. -- Sharky Lawrence Lusk , shook his stumpy fist at the moon and whined... "Every thing you guys post on this newsgroup is going right to the ISP's and my friends in the police. As you most likely missed, they are not the run of the mill cops. Found them through chance at my old Armed Forces Police Company web site" ---------------- Strange phenomenon - why are all fat ladies so pale? As if corpulence weren't enough, they shun the outdoors until they're as pallid and repulsive as an albino slug. Of course, the mental image of a 350-pound woman sunning herself is repulsive enough (photos to come). Besides, the "full figured" type tend to make their own gravy when left in the sun too long, and there's the constant nuisance of hippies trying to push them into the surf - but you think they might spend some time out of doors, if only to waddle to the corner grocery. Perhaps there's something in blubber that forms a protective barrier, shielding the melanin-rich cells of the dermis from ultraviolet radiation, guarding against suntan and skin cancer. If technology could synthesize a viscous substance with the chemical properties of flab, they'd certainly have a marketable product. ---------------------- 'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the flat The techno was blaring, 'twas too loud to chat The rizlas were perched on the table with care And smoke full of chemicals soon filled the air We'd just been out clubbing, I truly was trashed My faithful companions were equally mashed We'd popped a few pills and we'd had a quick sniff And just settled down to a nice tasty spliff When out on the balcony rose such a clatter We looked slowly up to see what was the matter I got to my feet and I swayed to the door And only occasionally fell on the floor I peered through the glass as I took a long puff The moon glistened through the pollution and stuff When what to my wandering eyes should appear But a fat man in red and a team of reindeer He yelled and he ranted, gave each one a kick I knew in a second it must be Saint Nick He shrieked at each Reindeer and cursed them alike "**** you!" yelled Rudolph "we're going on strike!" The reindeer did turn and soar into the sky And Santa growled something that wasn't goodbye I watched as they went in a puff of pink smoke And vowed from now on to stay off of the coke As debris did settle St Nick turned around He swore as he angrily kicked at the ground He gave me a gesture that clearly implied He'd be very pleased if I let him inside I threw the doors open and ushered him in Invited him through with a welcoming grin "So where are our presents?" my wasted mates cried With a look of astonishment, Santa replied; "You seriously think you might be on my list? You've got to be kidding, you're taking the ****! Have you lot considered your actions this year? Stop being stupid and get me a beer." He opened a Stella, but still looked depressed We asked him to tell us what made him so stressed "My reindeer have left me" he said with a sigh "Unless I have reindeer I've no way to fly!" "Now look here" I told him "we may not know much We don't help old ladies, kiss babies and such, But Santa, there's no need for you to despair We know how to get you back up in the air!" I chopped up a line with precision and skill And rolled him up neatly a twenty pound bill His face lit up quickly with real Christmas cheer "Perhaps you kids WILL get some presents this year!" He spoke not a word but got straight to his mission He snorted that line with wholehearted ambition Then Santa skinned up and he smiled as he puffed We knew that our stockings this year would be stuffed He sprang to the balcony, leapt from the railing Soared to the sky with his present-sack trailing I heard him exclaim as he flew out of sight, "Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!" |
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