Seanachai

Hush, for just a moment. I love you all. You're a good lot of lads and lassies. Whatever comes, you'll always be that. The logs burn, the sparks fly up, and the fire crackles. Each hissed comment is answered with a snap. Each night on Earth recedes into infinity, and for every joy, a sorrow answers. And for every sorrow, a joy remains. Absolute fecking idjits have children. What a lively show of joy, delight, and amusement. Have you ever watched children teaching their parents? A Joy Remains. Sorry, been gone. A bit tired. Need to go to the Doctore, perhaps. RLeete, do the right thing, lad, and kiss me arse.

Considers Good. It 's time we became more multi-cultural. Perhaps, of course, we could attempt a more...jolly sing-song form of multi-culturalism? Who's for a round of 'Kumbaya Lord, Only Bugger That Annoying Bastard Over There?'

Do you know, I haven't slept in over 30 hours? You're marveling at my lucidity, aren't you? Now let's go kick the snot out of the Crimson Brigade!

Back to your own playpen, Snooker! And take Simple Simon with you. </font>

Bloody English! You'd think they'd invented the language, the way they carry on! Stand there next to the German! Here comes Mr. Doc Marten!

Bless you, my child.

Avaunt thee, you Goodaler muppet!

Dear God, just exactly what is it that you're sharing with us? Are we supposed to be – well, I hesitate to say 'touched' – by your honesty, or horrified at your unseemly openness about how you... I can't go on. I demand that you stop thinking about me right now! Although I'm flattered. I guess. I'm so conflicted! Maybe I should speak to Rose?

Whatever happens, they will not make me...cry. I promised myself I would not cry!

And swim the English Channel? I'm not sure at which exact point I began having concerns about having bought a car whose acronym is KIA.

Starting to envy old Grandad now, aren't you, you French bugger? Well, you'll be the spitting image of him soon. Especially if he really has been dead for 10 years...

You realize, of course, that he will forever ignore all your attempts at praise, and desperately seek only the approval of Patboy, while Patboy will become frantic with the desire to make you understand that Aristoteles' mods are vile, forming a deep connection between the two of you. Man, I must have seen this happen like a thousand times with Modders! It's simply hell.

Stop projecting your sordid (and strangely dated) fantasies onto my stocky gnomish form, you nasty bugger, or I'll have the Law on you, see if I don't!

We don't? Well, you might have said something, Joe. I can't read minds, you know. Especially the flash cards most of you are using in place of synapses firing. Well, I mean, I can read them, but 'eat', 'sleep', etc. gets a bit tedious after a while, and the ones that aren't tedious are usually vulgar. And unimaginative!

Alouette whack! gentile Alouette whack! Alouette, whack! je te plumerai garbled whisky mutterings... 'make their bloody booze out of fruit, so they do...says it all, don't it?'

Roight! Bloody Germans! Stand here and stand bow-legged, you (obscene gerund deleted) Jerry!

S'aright, lad. At least you're not an Aussie... Did you know that those buggers have well over 400 expressions for the act of vomiting? It's like the bloody Eskimos and snow...

Oh deary, deary me! And before witnesses? I'll have you know, lad, that, as an American, I most certainly could, and would beat your dead Grandfather, never mind the weather. I'd lash him with a good cudgel until the tears of horror poured from the eyes of the mourners at the wake, and their shrieks of outrage rang throughout the halls of the Mortuary. We Americans are made of sterner stuff than you suppose, and even as the pall-bearers rushed forward to wrest my knobkerrie from my hands, I would be singing a jaunty ditty Now isn't it the truth I told ya Lots o' fun at Finnegan's wake! With a whack for the derrie oh! And even as the floral wreaths were knocked from their stands as family members rushed forward, outraged, screaming curses in French, I would not relent, but beat out a tattoo on the figurative drumhead of your deceased... Er, but perhaps that isn't precisely what you meant?

The first person who starts talking about 'running' is so going to get kicked in the fork...

I feel like I've stumbled into a Sartre play. Although everyone was very nice.

No, no, no, Old Foul Joe! (gadzooks, can I turn a rhyme, or what? Actually, I think I'm going to go drop a frozen chicken brick on my damn foot for using the word 'gadzooks', even in jest) I was simply saying they should have the option of coming in and, speaking as though they were speaking to a single individual, throw out a more 'general' Challenge. I mean, it takes the average half-wit weeks to even sort out that you're the Justicar, even though you repeat it every other post, and even longer to arrive at some sort of grasp as to what that means. I'm simply saying, let's create a more level playing field. Let them come in, and make a good Taunt in search of an opponent. If their Taunt sucks, we'll simply laugh them to scorn, as we always do. But if they taunt well, someone might say, 'this one interests me, I think I shall give them a game', or 'Ta-ha, Boo, my large, thuggish henchman, send this idjit a setup', or 'You! The stupid looking one who won't go the hell away and who posted that horrible taunt that made even the Wafflers snicker at your shame! Yes, you! Get your arse over here and play this spotty toad! We simply can't imagine anything more appropriate than watching you two pillocks flounder around like carp mating in a bucket.' It's simply that, Joe. I'm only asking that we be more...democratic in our dismissal of everyone. I mean, if we can bring democracy to Iraq, why not the Peng Challenge Thread? I say, let them all come in and prance about like sheep in wolves' clothing. And by their taunting we shall separate the sheep from the goats. And then we'll have kebabs.

Hate him. Fortunately his lyrics makes up for a crap voice. btw I'm drunk. Nothing as great as finishing up the working week with your peers drinking and bagging seniour management Mace PS I think seanachai's a decent chap. I will gladly shout the nong a beer PPS Emry's not bad either. PPPS Kitty, however, rocks. \m/ Mace </font>

Ask Seanachai to do this copy/paste for you. </font>

What?! After I stayed in town, special, forsook my family, in the simple hope that I'd be invited up to your simple digs to stand drinking a hearty ale in the backyard amidst piles of dog-****e, staring at the stars, and muttering 'Will I ever look upon an evening sky so beautiful, amidst such righteous company, and in a Spring so filled with wonder...and what the feck is this on my shoe, you useless little pillock?! I could have pulled a better backyard out of my arse, garlanded with stars and happy pixies, you useless half-wit Italian descended bastard! Oh, very nice! I wish I had all the time in the fecking world to let my dog **** all over everything while I...is that the Laphroaig? You're a good lad, Dalem. I've always said that. Well, amidst cursing you as a right-wing, unrepentant curse upon the world that no amount of sloppy thinking could make less than vulgar...Ah! The rapiers! I bet we could make Papa Khann run round the yard like a stoat on coke, if we pricked him up with these! Let's give it a try!

Ah. I can respect that. You absolute fecking toad. Not like you've invited me to your house on Saturday night, along with Papa Khann, so that we can both tell you that you aren't simply useless, but hateful in the eyes of the gods... No matter. How 'bout a little Dalem sing along? Dominique, nique, nique, over the land he plods And sings a little song Never asking for reward He just talks about the Lord He just talks about the Lord At a time when Johnny Lackland Over England was the King Dominique was in the backland Fighting sin like anything Now a heretic, one day Among the thorns forced him to crawl Dominique with just one prayer Made him hear the good Lord's call Without horse or fancy wagon He crossed Europe up and down Poverty was his companion As he walked from town to town To bring back the straying liars And the lost sheep to the fold He brought forth the Preaching Friars Heaven's soldier's, brave and bold One day, in the budding Order There was nothing left to eat Suddenly two angels walked in With a loaf of bread and meat Dominique once, in his slumber Saw the Virgin's coat unfurled Over Frairs without number Preaching all around the world Grant us now, oh Dominique The grace of love and simple mirth That we all may help to quicken Godly life and truth on earth And now once again, in French Dominique, nique, nique s'en allait tout simplement Routier pauvre et chantant En tous chemins, en tous lieux, il ne parle que du bon Dieu Il ne parle que du bon Dieu A l'e poque ou Jean-sans-Terre de' Angleterre etait Roi Dominique, notre Pere, combattit les Albigeois Repeat first 4 lines: Chorus Ni chameau, ni diligence il parcout l'Europe a pied Scandinavie ou Provence dans la sainte pauvrete Refrain Enflamma de toute ecole filles et garcons pleins d'ardeur Et pour semer la Parole inventa les Freres-Precheurs Refrain Chez Dominique et ses freres le pain s'en vint a manquer Et deux anges se presenterent portant de grands pains dores Refrain Dominique vit en reve les precheurs du monde entier Sous le manteau de la Vierge en grand nombre rassembles Refrain Dominique, mon bon Pere, garde-nous simples et gais Pour annoncer a nos freres la Vie et la Verite Refrain