Yeknodathon

Ah, er *scrach* *thumble* *thumble*.. okay, yes... well sending turns twice on account of yer alleged Pengs-slip split personality disorder may matter and a general, overriding poetic licence given to lovelorn donkeys on quests who suffer, me repeats, suffer, confusing emails with: </font> no attachments </font>me own, unopened turn </font>Idjit Yeknod

Get back in your Gates-slut persona! None of your alleged "champions" has shown any sign of freeing you to Peng again. If you slip up again I'll destroy another one of Berli's tanks.</font>

OGSF Liege, *pant* *pant* news of me quest *pant* *gasp* Liege, I'd like to tell stories of me hardships, the wonders I have visited, the monsters I've battled and the countless virgins who gather at me hooves. All for yer honour. Er, right, yes... bit different. Ahem, well.. the difficult bit was getting through the door in me waterproofs. My, how one sweats under heavy-duty plastic with no ventilation. Anyway, the unfortunate accident with the sink plunger startled Mr Goggle Suck Shen-Chen into a stampede towards the outer precincts. Don't Vietnamese pot-bellied pigs shift with a partial vacuum near something tender? Well, off it shot and wham! Smacked its bonce on an Olde One refuse heap and keeled over. Well, couldn't resist the chance of rummaging around the debris of such distinguished personages... empty liqueur bottles, stenographer-signed photos, Mormon genealogies, the odd badly composed court injunction, glossy "artful" magazines of the human body (female), scribbled half-polished poetry (with major corrections), a practice insult colour book, and a rather battered copy of "Darkside One-liners: A Layman's Guide to Scary Sarcasm"... usual rubbish... oh, and something else, something screwed tightly into a ball and meticulously wrapped in sticky tape. Well, this stuck out as something different... all 122 pages... So I carefully removed the wrapping and laid the creased pages to dry in the sun while the booming voice of something Mini-iota echoed through me head, "do not touch anything". Oh, right... Liege, the studying begins... Idjit Yeknod [ February 15, 2002, 04:32 PM: Message edited by: Yeknodathon ]

... now far be it for me to give a lecture on edjiting I must point out that doors are, like most of the corporeal world, just a tad bit insignificant to the practicing idjit. No, for the true idjit doors and any sort of solid reality are just an irrelevance. Yer see there's a little trap-door in one's skull right back in the dark, misty sub-conscious and every now and then we "pop" through it and hurtle into the depths of blissful idiocy to bathe in lapping dementia... swimmyswimmyswimmyswimmy Idjit Yeknod

I think we can take some pride in having been among the first to not only discover his "DOU" (Degree of Uselessness), but to have actually done something about it, i.e. sent his whiny little butt to Coventry. I find it amusing that, having failed miserably to "make it" as a CessPooler, he has now decided that he's a Grog and is attempting to "make it" as one of those. Rather like a dog trying to mark his territory when he's out of "ammunition". Joe</font>

brrrr, cold, yes, cold .... *sniff* *sniff* smell the odour of a cheery, self-satisfied and repugnant Nobbit... which means there are others *sniff* hiding somewhere... *sniff*... roast 'em, I say, roast 'em on their own barbies for our warmth and baste 'em in their own insipid, tastless lager.... sod off Idjit Yeknod [ February 13, 2002, 06:01 PM: Message edited by: Yeknodathon ]

Dark Lady, pah, the Duck ain't no Hercules... come an clean me stables, Augean loser Idjit Yeknod

OGSF Battle reports: Liege, I bring a new meaning to failure: PondDuck negotiations underway to resume hostilities. I've made arrangements for incontinence. Berli after much advanced sneaking and lurking the Gopher has finally arrived... I've yet to score a hit, Liege, and the endeavour is pitiful. Rest assured, Liege, the wimpering has begun with abandon. BodgedInBehind... strange, the enlightened (sic) carpenter has beguiled me into a state of reflection and sarvodaya. Activity involving loin cloths, latrines and spinning cotton has begun in full earnest. Everything is peaceful. Can't we all be friends? Nobbit has become fixated with a Stuart. He wants me to move it. I refuse. Nothing happens. He takes a holiday. Liege, a pattern is beginning to form. We must not underestimate the power of depression. Marine-buoy has become strangely quiet. Who knows what my half-traks have been doing... decimating another company, perhaps? Gates-slut after a bright and joyful start the game has been reduced to a form of inertia and despair. True, he's winning the game but there's much mirth in the paddock that all meaning has been drained from the encounter. Liege, a grinding tedium has taken hold. I expect mental collapse to occur at any time. Idjit Yeknod [ February 12, 2002, 05:03 PM: Message edited by: Yeknodathon ]

Yes, I see. Errrm, not looking for Shaw to circumnavigate the paddock at a blistering pace, just enough impetus for it to engage in a clueless amble. Yes, yes, nothing new here, but it needs careful direction towards the oncoming projectile. Tricky... how exactly is a Shaw controlled under laboratory conditions? Idjit Yeknod

Dear chrisl Noted with interest occupation as physicist. Is this "physicist" as in "sub-atomic"? I hope so because I've a notion to build a particle accelerator around the paddock. Just wondering what might occur if Shaw is whizzed in one direction and something of equal useless mass in the other. When allowed to to collide, what is likely to be flung off (toupees and surgical socks excluded)? Idjit Yeknod

... air sickness, bummer Yeknod [ February 11, 2002, 06:16 PM: Message edited by: Yeknodathon ]

Think again, BodgedInBehind, just because its over doesn't mean I'm free to woo one of his squires. It's a move down the social ladder, don't you know? Idjit Yeknod [ February 11, 2002, 01:56 AM: Message edited by: Yeknodathon ]

No, I'm somewhere near Scunthorpe, pillock. It's "mad Scott"; sort them out, hyphen-pillock. Idjit Yeknod

PondDuck Alpha:Bother?... oh, I feel very desperate Part ducks: ...I suppose it could have been worse, water fowl have a tendency to shed feathers. Tres:Oh, the sloping forehead and antiquated, redundant language? Hmmmmm, it is a bit a strain. Though despite his burdens, me Liege is beyond reproach, shut yer cretinous bill, water-sod Answer-the-fouth:NOTE TO SUB-ED... the duck wants to trump. Methane bubbles, pathetic. Offer me the chance of REVENGE. Like LAST TIME. Oh, deep joy. Just wait...uuuuggggggggh.... I'll give it another go.... uuuuuuugggggggg.... just once more.... uuuuuhhhhhhhhhhgggggg. I'm trying to get excited but it hurts. You are insolent baggage; a babbling sack of half-congealed, bobbing guano. Your quacks and quocks and fluttered natter disturbs me ruminations... Yer pitiful haranguing is a boil in me ear. Quiet. Liege, the cement-mixer. Master PondDuck is to be given the concrete foie gras experience. Idjit Yeknod

I had high hopes for you. I felt that, wound through the stream of gibberish and idiocy you rambled on with, there was yet a thread of wry humour, a brighter note of whimsy and ability.</font>

Well...furry gophers certainly are nice and cuddly aren't they? Wait a minute! Idjit Yeknod, don't you even think of it...Berli's already taken! Persephone</font>

Squires.....watery-eyed twits an' noo mustake. Di Ah haftae trrranslatae every bleedin' worrrd o' tha Mother Beautiful Tongue fer ye? At's nae sae harrrd mon....ye've bin gifted tha road tae tha grail. Nooo, ye kin keep us regailed aboot ye prograiss an' ultimately returrn triumphant wi' a evoka-bloody-tive ballad type o' thang aboot ye quest adventures....an' tha glory o' encoonterin' tha grail atsailf. As far as Ah kin taill laddie, ye've selaicted ye travellin' companions wi' a keen eye fer tha task ahaid o' ye. Ah am mildly, almost off-handedly, curious aboot ye "secret infalatable bag" noo. An' haes a wee clue fer ye...."leek" as MBT fer "like". Festin' pillock....sent tae tree us, these Squires....</font>

...anyway, what's all this Peng stuff about? Only dropped to do some posting on the Scunthorpe CM:BO Idjit Players' website. Well, I thought, this looks the place for me. Well friendly, by Scunthorpe standards, and knowledgeable enough to give me tips and strategies and advise on the armour penetration of 0.50 calibre half-track mounted MGs against SEA-WEED FESTOONED AMPHIBIOUS BASTICHE HETZERS THAT ROAM BEFORE ME EYES AS IF THEY OWNED THE PLACE... So, why is Seany-babe so awful and dark and Berli is so nice and cuddly? What's a knigget? Why don't people speak proper, like? ...oh, talking of the Gopher, must post a warning: Dear Everyone On account of the following incidents involving a volley of rocket-exploding twinkie bars thrown at me from over a ridge and an in-depth study of shells lobbed from me Hellcat and their trajectory towards exposed and retreating armour, I must point out that me true and perfect aim was "deflected" by an "unseen" and most definitely "unnatural" force. Now, even with the effects of gravity, I expect me shells to arc gracefully down towards me target. I don't expect them to deviate skywards at the last moment and gain enough energy to enter orbit. Unnatual, I say, bleedin unnatural. This Berli is tricky little beast, and its employing all the tricky little, unnatural, scurvy and downright sneaky tweaking of Newtonian physics for his own ends. ... not that I care having just entered a new spiritual plane... no, no, me chakras are balanaced, me karma good, me breathing controlled.. AAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH, DO THAT AGAIN, GOPHER-NOSE AND I'LL SET MANFRED ON YER... Idjit Yeknod

Quest Diary of Irritations and Assorted Things of Slight Interest Day One Is it worth the bother? I really daren't consider this one... Met Moribundity trying to flog some cheap tat at the paddock. Claims to know the answers, don't they all? Ha, didn't fool me. Quest-chasing hustlers, pathetic. Advice from Seany-babe... gawd, he's getting a bit clingy, but I don't want the attentions of a jilted gnome... best keep 'im hoping. Me Leige: making no sense again. Something about a "granite bog" and "leek"... keep nodding I say, and smile a lot... he likes that. All packed up: water-wings, plunger, divining rod, water-proofs, Manfred Weasel and Mr G. Suck Shen-Chen and... and me secret inflatable bag. Yeknod

*sqeak* *gnaw* *rip* *squeak* *squeak* Manfred, behave yerself, this is serious, I'll not endure rodent levity *squeak* [ February 07, 2002, 05:51 PM: Message edited by: Yeknodathon ]

Now, what a thorougly rude fella? Seany-babe, we can have our civilised chat. Where were we? ooooooooooh, a portal into the very fabric of space and time... cripes... will I need vaseline to squeeze me way through? Ooh, too bad then... I guess it's back to the virgins... ....Seany-babe, yer just a cheeky little tinker... Eh? aaaaaaaah, we're talking alchemy.... ahhhhhhh, the Alchemist Donkey, like it, like it... the whiff of sulphur: sublimating and precipitating... Oh, right, okaaaaaay, sounds a bit, ahem, serious.... ennoble? Me a donkey? Take to the purple? And what's with the rolls? Egg 'n bacon? I'm partial to a thistle roll meself, or the odd mud role. I'm not sure a donkey roll is too good. Though I know how to make a Swiss Roll. Push 'im down a mountain... Seany-babe, Liege OGSF, I prospose to be accompanied in me difficult quest. Apart from me chukker, Manfred Weasel, I wish to bring along me Vietnamese pot-bellied pig Mr G. Such Shen-Chen. On account of his one-eyed wandering stare known to us all as Google Suck Shen-Chen. Bleedin quick, he is, fastest pot-bellied pig I've known, aint he, Manfred? *squeak* Ooookay, cokey, "don't touch anything". Not a problem. Hear that Manfred, yer not to nibble anything. *squeak* *gnaw* Yer, little seducer, you. Yer, going to have to do better than that to get me all inflamed.... luuuuuuurver.... Right, well, that's all clear then. Between a sales rep know-it-all oaf and tinker-tips Seany all bleedin mystery and sense of adventure has gone right down the plug hole. Can't wait to get started. Well, Manfred, I'm looking for Cesspool water nymphs and I don't care where they originate from... and I'm going to touch 'em... Manfred, Google, the quest Idjit Yeknod

Oh, very nice, Moriarity! Nothing like a 'Noble Quest' where some pillock waltzes in and points at the third plain silver goblet from the left and says: that one there, lad, that's the goddamn Holy Grail! Well, I hope you're right there and ready with your helping hand the next time he's incontinent, so you can wipe his arse with a handful of thistle leaves! Bloody hell. A Knight of the 'Pool sets his Squire a Holy Quest, with a 'Lo, Forsooth! Go, thou, and seek out the Wellspring of the Peng Challenge!' (through the Broad Scots gibberish, mind), and up shows Moriarity with his paw waving frantically over his head going 'ooh, me sir, me sir! I know how to get there!' like some sort of poxy little pre-teen selling 'maps to the Quest for the Peng Challenge Thread' from a cheap lawn-chair by the side of the road. You're a nasty little know-it -all trollop, Moriarity.</font>

*bang* *crash* where's me water-wings? *smash *bang*...

(as dusk gathers around the paddock to welcome a particularly gloomy night, something can be seen at the far end throwing a bit of a strop) ... waterproofs, where's me feckin waterproofs... I AM NOT GOING TO GET WET... *bang* *crash* that, PondDuck, is NOT FUNNY *smash* *bang* oh, bleedin hell *bang* *smash* *crash* where's me divining rod *bang* *crash* Yeknod