Seanachai

He wears his pants on his head? :eek: </font>

When the Queen says this, it's time for anyone with half a brain to run for the hills and hide.

Stand still, Boocephalus! I must climb up on your shoulders and chastise my detractors. I shall then be 11' 3"

Found your true home, eh, Snarker? You could do me the courtesy of addressing me directly, lad, rather than talking behind your hand to your mates. Or do I overawe you? Bit afraid to give me ****e to my face? Well. You're but a little lad, and I can't fault you for wanting to shuffle your feet and play the big lad with your friends. Stand up straight, Snarker, when I'm talking to you! That's better. Now, is there anything you want to share with everyone? Some comment on me? Take your hand out of your pants, you pillock, and stop picking your nose!

Good, for I have things to post. Soddball, that most loathsome of Goodalers (yes, I know, I know, picking out which Goodaler is most loathsome is like trying to choose your favourite Menendez brother), has angered our Queen. Also, he gives me the red arse. So I have gone even into that most tacky of low places, that Cesspool 'wannabe' of threads, and challenged the bastard to a game of CMAK. This has been done in the grand, old style of the Peng Challenge. Not like this poncing about we get now, I might add. I reproduce here my challenge to the vile Soddball, so that this Challenge is in good standing with the MBT, the Thread of threads, the Cesspool. Flee, Soddball! You have angered our Queen! I would not be you for all...well, for much of anything, actually, whether Queen Emma was angry with you or not. Disgusting thought, being Soddball. Makes me feel nauseous. In any case, Soddball, your soft, dangly bits, which we can only qualify as your 'manhood' because of tradition, shall soon be in my keeping, kept in a soft, supple leather wallet with the monogram SDB (for Soddball's Dangly Bits). I shall extract this 'item' from you by means of a game of CMAK, as well as my various posts to you. My posts, of course, will be filled with panache, wit, and audacity. Your counter posts, equally of course, will reek of boiled cabbage prepared in small, filthy flats by slope browed descendants of criminals too useless and incompetent to have been Transported. One post at a time, combined with your ultimate defeat in CMAK, I will strip away any claims you may have to 'maleness', let alone manhood. When you are finally, by means of my wit and game play, left cowering alone in a corner, whimpering and running a hand over the smooth, downy patch of fawn coloured fluff that once marked your gender, I will write a poem in your 'honour', describing your reduction to the status of the Goodaler's Eunuch Vizier. I will post the poem in the Peng Challenge Thread, of course, and not in this tacky little 'lost boys' clubhouse, where it will serve as both a mark of my triumph, as well as a monument to your new status as 'Head Boy' of the Cheery Waffle thread. I will, of course, be posting a copy of this post in the Peng Challenge, so that all the punctilio are observed. If I don't, the Justicar starts going off on us, again, and this just makes things easier.

I can't post anything of truth worth on this page, horribly soiled as it has been by first that Kiwi pillock, and then the awfulness that is Soddball. Bismallah! We are on the next page! [ November 22, 2003, 08:58 AM: Message edited by: Seanachai ]

I'm sure the dodgy little bugger will at least give the throne a few quick licks. Make sure the seat doesn't feel wet before you sit down in it. Use and SSN to wipe it if necessary.

Flee, Soddball! You have angered our Queen! I would not be you for all...well, for much of anything, actually, whether Queen Emma was angry with you or not. Disgusting thought, being Soddball. Makes me feel nauseous. In any case, Soddball, your soft, dangly bits, which we can only qualify as your 'manhood' because of tradition, shall soon be in my keeping, kept in a soft, supple leather wallet with the monogram SDB (for Soddball's Dangly Bits). I shall extract this 'item' from you by means of a game of CMAK, as well as my various posts to you. My posts, of course, will be filled with panache, wit, and audacity. Your counter posts, equally of course, will reek of boiled cabbage prepared in small, filthy flats by slope browed descendants of criminals too useless and incompetent to have been Transported. One post at a time, combined with your ultimate defeat in CMAK, I will strip away any claims you may have to 'maleness', let alone manhood. When you are finally, by means of my wit and game play, left cowering alone in a corner, whimpering and running a hand over the smooth, downy patch of fawn coloured fluff that once marked your gender, I will write a poem in your 'honour', describing your reduction to the status of the Goodaler's Eunuch Vizier. I will post the poem in the Peng Challenge Thread, of course, and not in this tacky little 'lost boys' clubhouse, where it will serve as both a mark of my triumph, as well as a monument to your new status as 'Head Boy' of the Cheery Waffle thread. I will, of course, be posting a copy of this post in the Peng Challenge, so that all the punctilio are observed. If I don't, the Justicar starts going off on us, again, and this just makes things easier.

Turn me over to Tittles? Oooh, I'm just trembling now, aren't I? See? holds out hand Absolutely quivering with fear, now, aren't I? Like a leaf in the storm. Bring on your meth freak gibberish linking 'my grand theory' lunatic. You're slipping, Emrys. The knowledge that I'm stalking you is starting to wear you down,isn't it?

I'm going to spike some Goodale arse to the ground, and dance around it, Soddball! You'll rue this day!

Edit your post, you oick. A couple of carriage returns in there would achieve the same effect without making everyone scroll back and forth endlessly.

Amazing. I've just returned from the General Forum, where I witnessed Gaylord's attempt to shoot himself in the foot miscarry, ending with him shooting himself in the groin. I think we should name an award after him. You know, a sort of 'And this year's Gaylord goes out to so-and-so, for his masterful overachievement in the field of aggressive stupidity.' If I hadn't actually read it, I wouldn't believe that he'd done it. The little lunatics been given at least two reprieves by the Powers That Are to continue posting here, and he's bollocksed up every single second chance he's been given. It's inspiring, really. A tribute to the overwhelming wrong-headedness of human nature.

The wolf muzzling? I would have thought that should go to the GF.

A sometimes humourous read, with several good points to make (ignore the fact that it's specifically aimed at sports fans) Taunting Dos and Don'ts

Wouldn't have missed the first time with a scope...

Make sure to immobilize the wolf's jaws with a muzzle before proceeding...

I...I...by God, Soddball, you shan't mesmerize me, you monster! Although after MrSpkr's unkind remark...I suppose there could be greener pastures out there... And Pestilence? Don't make me comer over there, laddie.

Well, if the Goodalers are doing it, certainly the Peng Challenge Thread would try to get some of our lads to participate, as we are not letting those swine steal a march on us.

You send Persephone a piccy of yourself within 48 hours or I'll kick you in the fork. And then I'll come back in and do it metaphorically. You won't like that, lad. Trust me. Send the picture.

Hmmm. Piss off, Boggs. This is between we Olde Ones, now. All minds shall be led into the light. Where, undoubtedly, they will stand frozen and trembling like fecking deer and go up over the hood of reality and do an unbelievable amount of body damage before tumbling into the slipstream of history before coming to rest on the shoulder of stupidity. Roadkill is the perfect analogy for most internet posting.

Christ, Peng, I asked you to give the lad a fair shake. Not hug him. If you go on being cuddly I shall go right off my lunch, so I will.

Maybe not to you Mr Eight Thousand Six Hundred and Ninety Four, but to Mr One Hundred Fifty Nine it is. SO if it is NOT interesting to a high numbered scum such as yourself, a johnny come lately, a n00b, a freshie, then why don't you just take your fetid little mad face and pound it and around eight thousand bags of sand up your butt and see if THAT sparks your interest in anything... Or you could just SOD OFF. Jerk. </font>

My Queen? Uh, Fair Emma? Would you do me the honour of allowing me to arise? My knees are starting to lock up.

You're going to Hollywood?

You fool, urinal pucks are handed out as medals or decorations, we don't declare heroes of the 'Pool to be urinal pucks. Hopeless, the lot of you. And Leeo clearly shows the direction that we should take. He says he wants no reward, no title, but rather would prefer to see the less worthy punished. This does him credit, and is in the very best traditions of the 'Pool. Therefore, I say he should have as his reward the right to punish a member of the 'Pool, of his choice, who he felt was lax in the search for the Queen. It wraps it all up nicely: reward, punishment, honouring the zealous by allowing their zeal full, pscychotic rein, and abusing the slack by setting the zealous upon them. It's almost poetic.