That Olde Peng Challenge Has Me In It's Spell

[AUSSIEJEFF]

Originally posted by Boo_Radley:

Papa

You don't have to forgive Joe. He's a <STRIKE>b</STRIKE>wanker and numbers confuse him.

[AUSSIEJEFF]

Originally posted by Papa Khann:

</font><blockquote>quote:</font><hr />

Originally posted by AussieJeff:

Oh, I don't know about that. It could be worse, ya know.

You COULD have an "Arse Licker" for a Prime Minister.......

AJ

Correction.

Yes, it could be worse. I could have a Prime Minister.

Papa</font>

[OGSF]

Ah'm ainly postin' thas sae Joe Ah cudnae play ye noo cos Ah'm a big girl's blouss Shaw has tae SCROLL.

Behold, Stalag Worplesdon!!

SirMacOberGruppenBloodyStompinSicFeuhrerBastardABCDJimmy

[Boo Radley]

Originally posted by AussieJeff:

On the OTHER hand, you might book in to the Asylum for the Criminally Insane before it's too late.......

AJ

When you ge there, ask for Augie-Dogie Jeff, he's got a suite of rooms all to his lonesome.

[Joe Shaw]

Originally posted by OGSF:

Ah'm ainly postin' thas sae Joe Ah cudnae play ye noo cos Ah'm a big girl's blouss Shaw has tae SCROLL.

Behold, Stalag Worplesdon!!

SirMacOberGruppenBloodyStompinSicFeuhrerBastardABCDJimmy

Right then, that's it, I don't know what Warppedlassdown or whatever the hell it is ... uh ... is, but I know a right bastiche when I see one and I'm seeing one NOW ... JIMMY!

That's right OGSF, no Code Duello, no seconds, just you and me, man to boy who dresses in women's skirts and calls it manly. I've had it with you and your aspersions on my honor ("Honor is a gift a mon gi's 'imself" not that YOU would recognize the reference you Scot wannabe living in Denver!) when I was attempting to do battle HONORABLY. Of course you, being the Faux Scot that you are, wouldn't recognize an HONORABLE fight if it beat you up alongside the head and shoulders with a claymore ... damn ... that DOES sound like a good idea!

So here's the deal OGSF, either apologize RIGHT BLOODY NOW for your character assassination or ... it will be a QB ME at short range ... everything random and the computer picks the forces, something small, say 1000 points each, rural, moderate trees, medium hills. You can even pick the sides.

The camber's in YOUR court now OGSF.

Joe

[Lars]

Originally posted by OGSF:

Behold, Stalag Worplesdon!!

Who are the little pillocks in the yellow hats?

[Joe Shaw]

Originally posted by Lars:

</font><blockquote>quote:</font><hr />Originally posted by OGSF:

Behold, Stalag Worplesdon!!

Who are the little pillocks in the yellow hats?</font>

[Lars]

Originally posted by Joe Shaw:

</font><blockquote>quote:</font><hr />Originally posted by Lars:

</font><blockquote>quote:</font><hr />Originally posted by OGSF:

Behold, Stalag Worplesdon!!

Who are the little pillocks in the yellow hats?</font>

[OGSF]

Originally posted by Joe Shaw:

So here's the deal OGSF, either apologize RIGHT BLOODY NOW for your character assassination or ... it will be a QB ME at short range ... everything random and the computer picks the forces, something small, say 1000 points each, rural, moderate trees, medium hills. You can even pick the sides.

The camber's in YOUR court now OGSF.

Joe

Ah think ye sayin tha' convex surrface o' a road as ain mah court noo. Ah didnae ken ye sayin' tha, boot af'n at's a wee scrap ye're after, saind at along, ye weepin' sack o' slopppy plops an' clammy swamp gas! Here's tha deal, ye secretive combiner o' navel lint an' ear wax, saind mae a set-oop along tha lines o' ye rash conditions, an' Ah'll gi' mah wee span'l tae play every other turrrn. Mah span'l wid lak tae play as tha Americans. Ah widnae, boot she's a canny wee lass ain Ah think she's got ye number already. Sae Yanks at as.

There'll bae tears, Joe Shaw, sae drink plainty o' water!!

SirMacOberGruppenBloodyStompinSicFeuhrerBastardABCDJimmy

[OGSF]

Originally posted by Lars:

</font><blockquote>quote:</font><hr />posted by Joe Shaw:

</font><blockquote>quote:</font><hr />posted by Lars:

</font><blockquote>quote:</font><hr />posted by OGSF:

Behold, Stalag Worplesdon!!

Who are the little pillocks in the yellow hats?</font>

[Stuka]

Originally posted by Joe Shaw:

Mace, Stuka, Aussie Jeff, Noba, Goanna, Stuka ... I know I said Stuka twice but he's twice as tiresome as the rest put together.

Your'e really asking for another pounding by mine own hand aren't you Joe?

(No Bauhaus, thats not what I meant, I know thats how it sounded but no, thank you for your input)

Just remember if you do summon up the moxie (a new word plagerised unmercifully from the diatribe of Shaw), that when your 'splodey things go 'splode"!, that you do not run your crews forward as 'point'.

For that is gamey.

Gamey as a venison pie.

Gamey as a monopoly set.

Gamey as Aussiejeff.

(at least I now have an excuse when AJ snaggs a lucky win in our current shambles)

(have I mentioned that its a historical scenario?)

(I think I have)

(They suck)

(even more than AJ)

[Stuka]

Originally posted by PondScum:

breed little Stukas to their heart's content.

Stuklets to the uninitiated.

You boxhead.

[OGSF]

Originally posted by Stuka:

</font><blockquote>quote:</font><hr />Originally posted by PondScum:

breed little Stukas to their heart's content.

Stuklets to the uninitiated.

You boxhead.</font>

[Guest PondScum]

Originally posted by Stuka:

Stuklets to the uninitiated.

Indeed - I stay as far away from your "initiation" "ceremonies" as I can. It's not so much the reconstructive surgery that would be required afterwards, it's the electric-shock aversion therapy.

[Papa Khann]

Originally posted by AussieJeff:

May I point you to this definitive definition of the word "have" as defined in the Miriam-Webster Online Thesaurus:

Entry Word: have

Function: verb

Text: to keep, control, or experience as one's own

Synonyms: enjoy, hold, own, possess, retain

Idioms: to be possessed of, have in hand

Contrasted Words: lack, need, want

2

Synonyms: INCLUDE, comprehend, contain, embody, embrace, encompass, involve, subsume, take in

The bolded definitions are appropos to your clear and present need for the hand of such an authority to guide YOU, as it were, through Cess puberty. On the OTHER hand, you might book in to the Asylum for the Criminally Insane before it's too late.......

AJ

Is this Aussie daft, or is he daft? Ye gods. He is so ripe I can hardly decide where to start picking fruit first.

For one thing, you periwinkle wearing knucklehead, half the bolded definitions you note are not definitions. They are Contrasted Words. Now I'm sure to your lilliputian intellect a word is a word, and you are just too happy to be able to mix one or two of them in with those disgusting popping and clicking noises you normally use to communicate. However, it might be just a wee tad easier for those of us unfortunate enough to be trapped within earshot of you to understand a single thing you say if you'd first try to buy a clue as to your own meaning.

Furthermore, when I feel the need for a Prime Minister of the Pool to oversee my Cess puberty, I'll just drop another nickel in Joe. One bombastic overblown blowhard is quite enough, thankyou. No need to be dropping any more bones in the soup.

Papa

[Joe Shaw]

Originally posted by OGSF:

... saind mae a set-oop along tha lines o' ye rash conditions, an' Ah'll gi' mah wee span'l tae play every other turrrn.

Wee Spaniel is it ... hmmmm, well I've never gotten around to actually naming mine, though I understand Johnson is quite popular. I DO understand (in an intellectual sense, kind of like "understanding" about being short without ever having to worry about it myself) the "wee" part though, pity but brave of you to face up to it ... so to speak. Setup forthcoming.

Joe

[ June 27, 2002, 02:40 AM: Message edited by: Joe Shaw ]

[Stuka]

Originally posted by Papa Khann:

Neither, he's just old.

He was already old when Jesus played fullback for Jerusalem.

Dead sea scrolls testify that AJ was the syphilitic love toy of an entire Roman Legion.

So cut him some slack, OK?

[Geier]

Originally posted by Goanna:

Meanwhile, the effete, public school, bad-toothed crowd cowered at home and collected the taxes. Personally, I'd rather live with the crims, thank you very much.

Personally, I'd rather collect the taxes. But that's just me.

Johan

[Moriarty]

Somefink ol' Joe said:

The camber's in YOUR court now OGSF.

How'd ya get the camber over there? No more scotch for you, you're leaning again.

[athkatla]

Boo_Radley

You will meet me on the field of battle.

I will be the ever popular Jack-Booted Thugs.

You will be the Cheese-sniffing Surrender Monkeys, known as the French.

You will provide a QB.

The parameters are unimportant.

You will prepare to Die-Alot™

Ok Bo Diddley I accept your snivelling challenge, and will play as the "yellow-streaks-down-their-backs" wine guzzling frogs. This is a brave challenge on your part, taking on a newbie with no PBEM's to his name and demanding he plays as the French floozies, methinks you hate to lose!! Well be prepared, as the scouts say, feed your humorless pigs their last bockwurst, for they will never eat again, except the lead that awaits them on the battlefield! :cool: The battle will be waiting for you when you eventually decide to rise from your stinking pit you call a bed

[Lurkur]

AAR Report-

Warning: If you are clever (snort!) and have been paying attention you might know what scenario Harv and I have been playing, and this little tale might behave like a spoiler for you. On the other hand, we are both so insignificant that you have likely passed over our posts. This post is unbearably long, in the hopes of causing hand cramps for such as that. There, you have been warned.

Death and Dutch girls

AAR

Colonel Harvey "Harv" Harvey of the British 1st Airborne division strode through the battered streets of Oosterbeek. Looking natty in his red beret and sounding way too much like Sean Connery for anyone's good, he inspected the new positions of his troops. He had ordered a withdrawal after the previous days horrific battle. The veteran troops were low on ammo, but his policy of nailing their feet to the floors of the buildings they were defending had brought satisfactory results.

He was about to order the same for today when a sergeant offered a suggestion. "No disrespect sir, but if you only nailed one foot to the floor we could at least pivot if we get flanked." Another sergeant added, "Likewise, maybe if you only nailed the shoe in place, the men wouldn't be distracted by the pain of a rusty bit of metal poking through them, though I myself don't mind it." And to prove his point, he hammered a nail into his own temple. Harv considered this new proposal, and ordered it so. Only the shoes would be nailed to the floor.

As he walked down the street a little further he was surprised to see a civilian woman standing outside of a shop, looking at some gloves through the shops window. Since the battle had begun most of the local Dutch had holed up in their cellars, coming out only to search for food or some other urgent item. Here this woman was, as unconcerned as if it were a quiet Sunday afternoon stroll. She was dressed in a blue sweater with a plain white scarf over her jet black hair.

Harv strode up to her with purpose, and demanded to know what she was doing out on the street. She looked at him for a moment through dark sunglasses, and then removed them before speaking. She had incredible ice-blue eyes and impossibly full red lips. He was startled at how any woman trapped in this hell could be so beautiful.

"Why Colonel, I was simply looking for some gloves to complete my outfit. I intend to throw quite a party for you brave men to thank you for... 'liberating' us helpless Dutch girls." She said the word liberate with a slight affect, and Harv nearly shuddered when she said it.

"Perhaps you could stop by later tonight? I have heard that the Allies are already in Nijmegen, surely they will be here tomorrow, and you will be sent back to England, and I will have lost the opportunity to thank you 'personally'."

All Harv could do was feebly nod. If he could hold out until tonight, it would all be worth it. He no longer cared how many men he lost, they would hold the town at all costs! She handed him an address written on some paper, put the sunglasses back on, smiled and turned away. He watched her walk off, until she rounded the corner. He breathed deeply and went about his inspections with renewed vigor.

........

Oberst Von Lurker had just finished detailing the assault plan to the German officers. They stared agape, mouths open in despair and appalled disbelief. Von Lurker had done his best, and it was apparent to everyone in the room that his best was still pretty damned awful. One of the younger lieutenants began to convulse, trying to contain his weeping.

Von Lurkur cleared his throat to break the awkward silence, and then said, "We have been given a task gentlemen, let's get to it!" No one, not even Von Lurkur moved. Things were getting a little uncomfortable when he noticed a figure standing at the door. Nadia!

A woman, dressed in a blue sweater and white scarf minced like a cat up to the front of the room. Every eye was fixed upon her, but none more so than Von Lurker, who bowed, greedily took her graceful hand and kissed it. His haunted, grey-blue eyes never left her face. She paused, took off her sunglasses and looked at the battle map. Some concern flashed across her face, and she made some quick adjustments to the arrows and flags on the map. Nadia stepped away from the map, and like the testosterone level in the room, hope arose in the hearts of those officers as they understood her changes to the plan. After giving them a moment to take it in, she turned on her heel and said to the commanders, "Now boys, don't destroy the Milliners shop on Wettersweg, I want some items from there when it's opened again, and I desperately need a hat that I saw in Dooyeweerd's, so would you go and capture it for me? I'd be very grateful."

The room cleared in seconds.

Nadia pulled a cigarette from her purse and inserted it into a long black cigarette holder. Von Lurkur promptly lit it. She took a drag and exhaled slowly. Looking with mild concern at Von Lurker, she asked, "Did you know that Colonel Harvey is commanding that force?"

"I suspected it. He kicked my butt last time we met."

"Hmmm, and the time before that. Not to worry liebchen. Do your best and let Nadia deal with Herr Harvey."

Before proceeding to the assembly area, Von Lurker had a sergeant from his staff pull out some AAR forms. They read:

To the friends and family of Company __, __ Battalion, ____ Regiment

It is my sad duty to inform you that the entire Company, from its commanding officer down to the pet mascot:

__ Was killed in honorable combat

__ Was killed in less-than-honorable combat

__ Was gunned down like dogs as they ran.

__ Was killed by enemy artillery

__ Was killed by friendly artillery (sorry)

__ Surrendered after fighting against overwhelming odds

__ Surrendered after a sharp engagement with enemy forces

__ Surrendered to the first enemy private when my back was turned

__ Was lost in combat, but I'm sure we'll find them soon

__ Was killed in a logistical mishap

__ Was accidentally run down by my command car

__ Have thrown down their arms, taken up burlesque dancing and are billing

themselves as the Prancertruppen at the Hotel Bellevue in Wiesbaden

They have served their country-

_ Well

_ Tolerably

_ Miserably

And their sacrifice was not -

_ in vain.

_ without some value

_ necessary

Sincerely, Oberst Von Lurkur

The weary commander reviewed the form. That Prancertruppen one would really hurt if he didn't have a 50% share of the profits... The war can't last forever.

........

The assault, of course, went horribly. The Germans had about a half an hour to dig British paratroopers out of about 4 dozen possible houses, stores, or apartment buildings. One flank was crushed by massed British gunfire. The gunners, chained to their weapons, gave no ground, and had to be shot down one at a time. Von Lurker's assault engineers would enter a building and be ambushed with point-blank fire from half a platoon or more. Eventually that enemy platoon was wiped out and the survivors gathered themselves up and proceeded to the next building. The Assault guns were also less than useful. The town bristled with AT guns and PIATs. To move was to die. To stay put was to die. Occasionally the desperate paratroopers counterattacked, and the Germans were a little more than curious why none of them wore a shoe on their right foot, and even more curious as to why rows of right shoes were nailed to the floors. Homes and shops were burned or were blown to bits. Fires raged everywhere,(except the haberdasher and milliner shops). In the end, the Germans took two, and contested 3 of their six objectives. The cost was so heavy that even though the British position was compromised, the battle could only be considered a minor victory for the British. Von Lurkur leaned against the pockmarked wall of a recently recaptured house and stared over at the steeple of the church. Harv would be over there somewhere-the gamey bastische! Well, nothing more to do but gather the survivors and set up holding positions until the next batch of lemmings arrived. Von Lurkur began to move down the street and was about to be gunned down by his own staff, when Nadia appeared to retrieve the gloves from the shattered store front. She looked at the men and then Von Lurkur's back. A dangerous, mischievous gleam burned in her eyes. She simply waved a finger at them and shook her head. The men, chagrinned, smiled embarrassed smiles and followed after Von Lurkur. Nadia watched them walk off, and wondered how many more battles Von Lurkur could lose and still live. Not many.

........

Harv was delighted. Sure, he'd lost over half of his men. Yes, they were out of ammo. Yes, the situation would be hopeless in the morning if he wasn't relieved before then. But Harv had a different kind of relief in mind right now. It had been years since he had "liberated" anybody. He quickly inspected the positions of his men, ordered another strategic consolidation and proceeded to the address on the little bit of paper in his sweaty hand. He practically sprinted up the exterior stairs to the second floor apartment. He eagerly rapped on the door and heard a delightfully feminine voice inviting him in. The chamber glowed faintly from the light of a few candles. He saw the woman, seated on a sofa. She wore a low cut red gown, black opera gloves, and cooly smoked a cigarette in its long blank holder. He wanted to take all of this in, but his eyes were irresistibly drawn to the line drawn by the meeting of her breasts. She smiled, but he didn't see it. She leaned forward to get something from her purse, and as she did so he became transfixed by the gentle swell of her breasts. She sat upright, and out of the corner of his eye he saw a luger. "That can't be good." he thought to himself, but his eyes refused to look away from the cleavage just a few feet before him. Three quick shots rang out. Harv's world went red, yellow, and faded into blissful, white oblivion.

Nadia picked up her wrap from the end of the sofa. She slowly walked around Harv's lifeless form and opened the door. Outside, the whole town seemed to be split apart and burning. Hundreds of men lay dead and dying all around. Occasionally shots and tracers disturbed the dark, sighing wasteland that filled her view. She put the cigarette holder to her mouth and thought, "Men always complicate everything." She glanced back at Harv, and smiled, "All this situation needed was a woman's touch." She blew a small cloud of smoke through pursed lips and shut the door.

Perhaps some grog like Dorosh, hehehe well, maybe not Dorosh as this does involve the fairer sex, can detail the Abwehrs development of the use of cleavage as a way of neutralizing allied soldiers. I don't know the details, but have heard that British troops, being underpayed, undersexed and under Monty, as well as simply being less attractive than your average GI, were particularly susceptable to this form of combat.

Lurk

[Mace]

Nice picture.

Actually made me stop to look (I didn't read the text tho...sorry...not)!

Mace

[Boo Radley]

Originally posted by Lurkur:

AAR Report-

Snipped merely for the sake of brevity.

Lurk

Tells a rambling good tale, my squire does. Plot, suspense, good character development...I may turn it into a play for my "Finger Puppet Theatre™".

[Lurkur]

Mouce wrote:

Nice picture.

Actually made me stop to look (I didn't read the text tho...sorry...not)!

Well, I took the literacy rate of our Australian brethren into account when I wrote the AAR, hence the picture.

[Michael Dorosh]

[ June 27, 2002, 08:59 AM: Message edited by: Michael Dorosh ]