stevetherat

(the shame!) Following the above formula: 33 1095 33.18 I'm 31. Tut, tut.

Mac +1

Greetings to you all from the muddy slipway of South West Londonshire. So why am I so jovial? Well, I really don't know. Is it because I have been working 12 hour days recently and have lost my sense of being and cohesion completely? Is it because that marvel of potraiture, Kitty, has constructed such a work of art that a place is being reserved for it as we speak in The National Portrait Gallery? Is it because in both 'Battle of the Squires' contests I am performing in (against Wildman - remember him?, and Agua Perido), I seem to have the upper hand? True, AP and I are trading shells at the moment but, little known to him, I am setting up a stall in the village from which I shall sell the trinkets I will construct from his hollow bones. And, WM has just brought on half a dozen Tigers and a company of SS Trupsters in the most contrived, skanky, lop-sided battle of the Century created, naturally, by Marlow. Yet, I still smile. Is it because, when born full of promise, I landed myself at the feet of the most vile and gamey of CM advocates, PeterNZer? Or maybe that I have just booked an Easter week away on the Scottish Loch Lomond, reserving a most comfortable Self-Catering Lodge by the shore? To be honest, I don't know what it is. Suffice it to say, I am in good spirits and can't think of a bad thing to say to any of you. No, not even Croda (incidently, who's Hetzer caused such a flash last night, I thought dawn was breaking already). My love to you all and each of your families. May prosperity envelop you in fortune and friendship. StR

Matt If you need help with graphics, don't hesitate. I work in advertising and use all mod cons (on a Mac); Photoshop, Illustrator, Dreamweaver. Just knock. StR

You, Miss Kitty, are a class act. Though, I do believe you may be missing a most crucial figure in your collection. I do await your next instalment with almost bladder busting anticipation. Now, to matters of less significance, one or two updates I must clear up. Alpine Peroxide will be on the receiving end of such a stealthy shafting, he will be virtually hollow by the time we are finished, and Slow Jaw will probably only be able to use him as an umbrella stand. PansyNZer, are you still waiting for a setup from your everso 'umble cockerny boot shiner cum broom employing serf cum body slave? StR

Oi! ThreeboilsBurst You feckless arse rag of a... Am I allowed to say arse? Oh well. Anyway, I have been instructed by my keeper PetalNZer to fully reverse your outers and inners located around the cavity where a spine would normally be located. Under considerable duress from this locale, known ordinarily as 'Work', consider yourself completely chipper that I have managed to salvage a few moments to raise my quite fetching body from my desk and square up my rather enlarged chest and officially twang you with a hypothetical studded glove around the vicinity you have the gall to call a face. I shall, when I return to the PleasureDome™ of my humble residence, send you a file that you will return with a regularity that only a perfect diet and excerise regime can produce. Failure to do so will put into effect a chain reaction that cannot be undone, whereupon I shall fly out to your particular 'Project' slum in which you domicile to entwine you in a completely authentic ewe dressage perfumed in virginal (and VERY rare) sheep 'heat'. On reaching Meeks finely tuned olfactory organ you will be subjected to such an anal assault as to render you utterly useless as a productive (in every sense) member of the human race. ANY attempt at 'gamey' methods of effectation of this inaugral entrance into the halls of this pillar of CM society (by 'gamey' I imply any situation where you might actually defeat me), you will be the subject of my own particular vengeance; a procedure that will ensure you are not at all considered part of humanity. In fact, not 'considered' at all. In summation, here follows the procedure, and ultimate acceptance, of your empty (except for the seed of the faggot vigilante that roam the darkest alleys you frequent with perverse regularity) shell into this Hallowed Place. 1. I will send you a file. 2. You will, from that moment on, process those files in a timely manner. 3. You will die. Thank you for your attention, which I have no doubt, taxed you substantially. StR

I find it strangely ironic that I'm receiving advice from phlegm globules that I am about to wipe from the face of the Earth. That said, I thank you both for your input, and I expect to use it against the two of you. Now, isn't that wierd?

Here's a poser for you. Do you prefer taking the wide route into battle or as a concentrated mass? For example, I have a fictional infantry company in front of me and my target - a small hamlet cum village - is in the centre of the map. Do I: a) present two platoons up and one in reserve and attack headlong into the village? or sit tight with two platoons while the other tries out a flanking push, well wide of the village, and attack en-mass to effect a deadly field of surrounding fire? Regards 'Curious' (name witheld)

I never had soldiers as a nipper. Something I regret even now. I bought my first about a year ago; four Airfix M3 halftracks and a white metal platoon of Brits. I went to a wargame show and just thought "what the hell" and brought them home. They're still there. I've half made the M3s but haven't touched the blokes. They are looking for a good home if anyone is interested. StR

Oh well, I needed a hairwash anyway. Mace, what are you doing up at this hour? Isn't it like 50 O'clock or something down there?

Petra/Dvorak So what perks are included in Squiredom? What are the hours? To be honest, I only signed up because I was curious. Is a pension included? Do I get overtime? Am I salaried or waged? And what exactly do I have to do? Follow Peeler around with a broom and bucket? OK, I can do that. When do I get my contract? A most cunning and devious setup will be winging its way to you tonight. What are your preferences. NO, I don't want to hear that you prefer equines to bovines, or anything similar. I mean what side do you prefer? StR

Oh, OK. Even though I may be a resentful little swine that looks at you through the corner of my evil eye, I accept your (pathetic) offer in the hope I might drip poison into your shrivelled mouth while you sleep. And the drink fest is on. Yet again, my sympathetic girlfriend has allowed me to play out. Yippeee! StR

Steve who? Me?

Oh, did I have a cunningly witty retort to share with you all. A combination of sheer brilliance, cunning wit and a stealthy delivery of humour. So where is it? Gone. Twice. I managed to type it in two feckin times (the second slightly diluted, but still punchy) but my feckin computer decided it should censor my masterpiece and refuse to operate. This time I can't be bothered. But, I will summarise: PetraNZ you don't impress me with your miniskirted conquests. Jeez, even Crony could bag a Kings Cross loose-lipped-luvva. Your Squire? HA! You don't even qualify to be my surf. My arse ('ass'/'butt' for you yankee inbreds) sponge even! We're going to have to fight this one out. Winner takes all. Aqualine Persistant and Irksomebladder are both, in my mind, the same sort of incessant attention seeking annoyance. So what? I got your files mixed up. Sheesh. You're both the equivalent of that perpetually festering boil between my rear cheeks. I squeeze the jelly out of you both when you get too big, but you both return for more. It's very difficult to tell the difference between one infection and another. Coma and I continue to live in each others pockets, without actually coming into contact. I am about to unmask the barsteward and reveal the childlike miniature appendages of the freak. Margo hasn't returned a file for decades. After throwing Mildman and I the abortion he calls a scenario, he's done a runner. Admittedly, he's on the thick end of a beating but blimey, there still might be a chance. We've only just started. That is all. Resume your positions. StR

OK, Christina Agualeerer, here's how to do it. Make up little groups first of all. At least a 1:1 ratio of inf to tanks, more inf if poss. Am I losing you with the abbreviations? Good. Send out 1 ptn ahead about 50m, then the tank and another inf ptn, with the inf swarming around the tanks - not riding. Luckily, CM dudes don't suffer powder burns. Hunt the tanks and Move the chaps. When contact is made with the 'scouting' ptn you'll know (roughly) what's ahead and use the rest of your geezers as the situation demands. If you are caught by surprise, the chaps walking the tanks will pour down fire on any AT crews. Simple really. Now send me back my feckin file you TURD. Thank you.

You've no idea how much I weep with pity when I communicate with you 'people'. I'll send some flowers on to your family afterwards, but here is my communique on this sunny Monday. Friday: Met up with the imported London pond scum residue (me being the only native among us!) for a wee dram. God, did I weep. They all look EXACTLY the same as their communal photo on Lorak's site, except for the Chupster. He seems to have lost SO much weight that when he turns side-on he disappears. That could have been the only way he could have got in the pub, the others resorting to bribery as they are not quite so financially challenged as the student. Saturday: None of your God damn business. Sunday: Sent some files and received some. A summation of which follows: Aguilera Pontefract: I'm winning. Chupster: I'm winning, inspite of the fact that he's cheating. Croma: I'm winning. Margo: I'm winning. Whelpman: I'm winning, even though he has just brought on an entire battalion of King Tigers. I'm missing one but can't for the life of me remember who. Not important I suppose. Mace, you git, when are you drongos gonna take back Rolf? We've had enough of that bearded pervert poking around animals. Enough is enough. You Aussies are all the same. Now go rot, all of you. StR

Thanks for clearing that up 'Stone Cold'. Now you have outlived your usefulness, go and die. StR

I testify to Lorak's point that the Irish are the finest seed-sowers of all the celts, and the celts being the finest seed-sowers of the whole people of the world.

To whom are you refering laddie? I sincerely hope, for the sake of your snowbound plebs chanting "dead men walking", that you are NOT talking about ME mister! Clarify this slander at once! StR [Edited to remove a rather unsightly spit bubble] [This message has been edited by stevetherat (edited 02-16-2001).]

And, Agave Pestulence, unfortunately I have been rather busy at work. You see, I and my fellow natives of this grand civilisation, have to work twice as hard now that we have imported these slack handed Europhiles to help solve our manpower shortages. You would think that we could all afford to takes things a bit easy, but no. These Europeans don't seem to be able to work at all. After all their siestas and mandatory work breaks (according to the latest EU laws), and strikes, and God only knows what else, it is left to us to work for them. God help us. Only he can. Please excuse me while I alone have to do 3 peoples jobs, while the Imports have a nap and game of cards. Your damnable files will be with you shortly, my faithful PBEMers. StR

Think of it this way Slackrock, If, or indeed, when this catastrophy happens, your duty bound country will have to lend a hand. Thus, we will be increasing your taxes, occupying your homes, buying your land, taking your jobs and shagging your women. Personally, I can't wait! StR

Speedbird is British Airways callsign. Otherwise, good joke! StR

John, sorry but you look like a girl. Are you a girl? StR

Here, I'll give you one of my bumps, completely free of charge. str

Mace, you upsidedown floating turd, what sort of antipodean are you? Kiwi or Aussie? If you are an Oz, are you anywhere near Newcastle? If you are Kiwi, did you know that the Kiwi is actually Australian? Aparently it walked over to NZ during the ice age and thrived as the natives shat their pants when ever it approached - they thought it was some sort of God. Meanwhile, back in Oz, Kiwis were hastily bunged onto barbies and trimmed with shrimp and lemon. stevetherat