Yeknodathon

When in Andreas, do as the Andreas

Andreas was built in a day.

*snort* Smooth, depilated Boo... oiled 'n' athletic like some brawny, hardened Mediterranean wrestler? *snort* ... exercise? *snort* ... Boo? *snort* *heeeeeeeeeeyaaaaaaaaw* *honkety-honkety-HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOK* *eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeyoooooooooooore*

[gently nibbles a twig to the image of Boo vigorously working a chest expander... in lycra and leg warmers] [ February 04, 2005, 10:59 PM: Message edited by: Yeknodathon ]

[slowly chewing the end of thistle with an intermittent interest in the corporeal entity, Boo] *sniff* flapper valves? I suppose one must have to flap a bit?

Seems to explain the line of work you're in, don't it Sparky? </font>

STEP AWAY FROM THE UDDERS!

Using split squads for flanking and assault does sort of negate the assault command? Interesting debate and I can see the arguments for both splitters and non splitters. Interesting to see if BFC will comment on the suggestion that split squads are not taking a firepower or hefty morale penalty?

... but that would be winking and not blinking.

He'd only need one eye for Morse code. Of course, the other eye could send back a reply?

Do I get to choose a bucket? Will it have a handle?

I just wanted to say that a lot would depend on the colour and whether said receptacle was upside down or not and free for immediate inspection. As for the bucket one can never really be too sure.

He'd have waited for the Prussians with that one?

Pushed it towards the British squares?

[reaches the paddock pond, *snorts*, turns around...] Ahem, Mdm Joe Whiplash [... and marches back again]

[Frustratingly goosesteps across the paddock in rubber Wellington boots...]

Keep movin', movin', movin', Though they're disapprovin', Keep them Poolers movin' Rawhide! Don't try to understand 'em, Just rope and throw and grab 'em, Soon we'll be living high and wide. My heart's calculatin' My Olde Ones will be waitin', Be waiting at the end of my ride. Move 'em on, head 'em up, Head 'em up, move 'em out, Move 'em on, head 'em out Rawhide! Set 'em out, ride 'em in Ride 'em in, let 'em out, Cut 'em out, ride 'em in Rawhide!

I think he's holding a whip [rhetorical question] *snort* [rhetorical snort] Justicar thigh-length rubber boots...

I know, I know *sniff* terribly poor form.

THISTLE!

[... meanwhile, back at the paddock it is Bohemian Night where stories are read from the great tome "Lives and Tribulations of the Romantic Poets". And as donkey and rubber gnome lay side by side, the pages and turned to Chapter 3 "The Shelleys at Home".] Percy Bysshe: ... hmmm, Skylark, eh? I've never done a Skylark before... hum-de-hum-de-hum *scribble* *scribble* Hail to thee, blithe Spirit! ... not bad, not bad Bird thou never wert, That from Heaven, or near it, Pourest thy full heart ... damn, I'm hot tonight... In profuse strains of unpremeditated.... ...eh, Muse, Muse, where art thou? In profuse strains of unpremeditated...unpremeditated....? Mary: [from another room] *giggle* *giggle* Percy Bysshe: ...unpremeditated, unpremediatated, unpremeditated....? Damn! Muse? Muse? Mary: Bysshey, Bysshey, BYSSHEY! I'VE GOT A MONSTER! A REAL MONSTER! Percy Bysshe: *mutter* Oh, feck, not again? *mutter* Mary: WHAT SHALL WE CALL IT? Percy Bysshe: [shouting through the walls] FRANKENSTUCK! WE'VE HAD THIS CONVERSATION BEFORE! FRANKENSTUCK! I'M WORKING, DEAR... *mutter* [under the breath], please don't disturb the Artist at work *mutter* That from Heaven, or near it, Pourest thy full heart In profuse strains of unpremeditated....? Mary: Bysshey, BYSSHEY!? HE'S ONLY A LITTLE MONSTER BUT HE'S SO CUTE. CAN WE GIVE HIM A POINTY HAT?? Percy Bysshe: *mutter* oh, Christ on a Crutch *mutter* NO! MONSTERS ARE SUPPOSED TO BE BIG! Mary: ONE BOLT OR TWO? Percy Bysshe: ONE! NO TWO! GIVE 'IM A LIMP. GIVE 'IM TWO LIMPS! *mutter* I'm feckin' limping through this life *mutter* ... AND A HUNCHBACK. Mary: LOBOTOMY? Percy Bysshe: YES, YES, GIVE IT A LOBOTOMY! Hail to thee, blithe Spirit! That from Heaven, or near it, Pourest thy full heart In profuse strains of unpremeditated.... ..unpremeditated fart Bugger, Feck, Bugger... I'm a bleedin' Poet for Christ's sake! Mary: Bysshey, BYSSHEY-CHUNKS ARE YOU GETTING STRESSED AGAIN? *counts to 10* NO DEAR, JUST TRYING TO COMPLETE SOMETHING Hail to thee, blithe Spirit! That from Heaven, or near it, Pourest thy full heart In profuse strains of unpremeditated.... BOO WHAT, WHAT?!.. blasted Wal-mart opium. Mary: BOO? BOO? WHAT'S THAT? Percy Bysshe: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGH! Mary: CAN I USE A BOO FOR THE MONSTER? Percy Bysshe: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGH! [ January 20, 2005, 09:55 PM: Message edited by: Yeknodathon ]

[glumly stares at nothing in particular] I wouldn't want a polyglot in case it fell off.

I should think counting 22 in four and a half years is very desperate. *thwack* take that yer little brute...

[... and in the thin, wintry distance where the starved crow of eternity swoops down onto the shrinking worm of fate something grey and heavy is applying a rather large wooden ruler to some rubber gnome butt. And with each hefty application of untrammelled donkey brawn the little effigy is propelled through croquet hoops towards the paddock pond.] *thwack* Good shot, sir! *thwack* yer little beggar... *thwack* *thwack* *thwack* *honk* *honk* *honkety-hooooooooooooonk* *thwack*

*snort*