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  #16 (permalink)  
Old 9th December 2008 , 05:47 PM
Round The Horn
 
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Quote:
Originally Posted by I_Am_Bic_Pentameter View Post
Let's find Tiny Tin and batter him
That's it IABP - suggest some festive food preparation to get Ian B in to the spirit. Place the batter in your tiny tin. Alternatively, use a cake tin which gives you the equivalent of 12 tiny tins. Any questions, just ask Delia
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  #17 (permalink)  
Old 9th December 2008 , 06:19 PM
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Nust be this keyboard. Every tine I press N it comes out as N
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Old 9th December 2008 , 06:20 PM
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I'll be at home with family, nothing better
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  #19 (permalink)  
Old 9th December 2008 , 06:26 PM
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Originally Posted by sureno View Post
That's the spirit
Seriously, if you knew my family you'd be the same as me. Constant squabbling and petty jealousies are the norm here when they're sober, it's even worse after a skinfull, and tbh, I have as little to do with them as possible at anytime of year, but especially Xmas.

I haven't set eyes on nor spoke to my brother or his 3, now grown up, kids for over 10 years now, and if it's left up to me it'll be another 100 years before I do. A couple of aunties used to keep in touch and visit fairly regularly, but they stopped coming about 3 years ago and I've no idea why, but wondering why certainly doesn't keep me awake at night. When they came all they did was bitch/gossip about the rest of the family, and I sure as hell don't miss that.

Barring the going out getting bladdered over Xmas, which I've since stopped, I've always been of the Bah, Humbug school of thought over Xmas. It's just another day to me, and has been for a long time.
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  #20 (permalink)  
Old 9th December 2008 , 06:35 PM
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It sounds more Pogues than Cliff Richard
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  #21 (permalink)  
Old 9th December 2008 , 06:36 PM
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loli dont blame you mate, families are a b!tch
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  #22 (permalink)  
Old 11th December 2008 , 01:38 PM
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'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the DV forum
Not a poster was stirring, not even a Sureno;
His stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Modz1 would soon would be there;
The other posters were all snug and taking their meds,
While visions of Pro Tools HD danced in their heads;
And musicmaker1 in her LBD, and NDK in a cap,
Had just settled down and were listening to rap,
When out on General Announcements there was such a clatter,
Everyone sprang from their stupor to see what was the matter.
Emails were sent and posts flew like a flash,
Tom DV Romford put down his signature Slash.
Dave stopped playing keys, Terminal3 sold a strat
And Wilty even stopped decorating his flat
When, what to our wondering eyes should appear,
But a DV lorry, full of christmasy fare,
Who was the old geezer, with a tidy bouffant,
We knew in a moment it must be Modz1.
More rapid than a Facebook mob new posters they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called the regulars by name;
"Now, Monarch! now, OJB! now, Trevor and Saxman!
Oh, Waxxy! oh trbguy! oh, JAYDMF and also sphelan!
To the top of the page! to the top was the calll!
I've got presents to give - to you one and all!"
So up to the top of the page the posters they flew,
For the lorry load of prizes, and IABP went up there too.
And then, in a twinkling, I tell you truth
A thousand new posters fell in through the roof
As we all heard the noise and were turning around,
Down from on high St. Modz1 came with a bound.
He was dressed all in lycra, from his head to his toe,
And his clothes were that tight everything was on show;
A bundle of prizes he had flung on his back,
And he looked like Charles Laughton when he played the hunchback.
His face needed Olay - how it was wrinkled! he's ancient I suppose!
His legs were quite bandy and he had Manilow's nose!
His droll little mouth revealed traces of drink,
And the beard of his chin smelled of Jack Daniels, I think;
The stump of a fag he held tight in stained teeth,
And we all came to realise he's a bit of a freak;
He had a fat face and a rather large belly,
That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly.
He was chubby and lardy, and looked beyond help,
And I laughed when I saw him, I'm handsome myself;
A wink of his eye, he put a bag over his head,
What a relief! I now had nothing to dread;
He spoke not a word, he had come straight from work,
And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, he brought the competition to a close;
He got back in his lorry and gave his helpers a whistle,
And with a face like a bulldog licking a thistle.
I heard him exclaim, as he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night."
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Last edited by I_Am_Bic_Pentameter; 12th December 2008 at 09:44 AM. . <
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  #23 (permalink)  
Old 11th December 2008 , 01:50 PM
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EXQUISITE
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  #24 (permalink)  
Old 11th December 2008 , 01:51 PM
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Another great and highly amusing post from IABP!

Just out of curiosity, how long did it take for you to write that?

Quote:
Originally Posted by I_Am_Bic_Pentameter View Post
....
And the beard of his chin smelled of Jack Daniels, I think;
The stump of a fag he held tight in stained teeth,
And we all came to realise he's a bit of a freak;
He had a fat face and a rather large belly,
That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly.
He was chubby and lardy, and looked beyond help
...
Have you met St. Modz1 before as that is a strangely accurate description!
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  #25 (permalink)  
Old 11th December 2008 , 01:56 PM
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About 15 minutes

It's as quick as I can type my thoughts, after gross plaguerism of the original, of course,.
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  #26 (permalink)  
Old 11th December 2008 , 05:13 PM
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Quote:
Originally Posted by I_Am_Bic_Pentameter View Post
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the DV forum
Not a poster was stirring, not even a Sureno;
His stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Modz1 would soon would be there;
The other posters were all snug and taking their meds,
While visions of Pro Tools HD danced in their heads;
And musicmaker1 in her LBD, and NDK in a cap,
Had just settled down and were listening to rap,
When out on General Announcements there was such a clatter,
Everyone sprang from their stupor to see what was the matter.
Emails were sent and posts flew like a flash,
Tom DV Romford put down his signature Slash.
Dave stopped playing keys, Terminal3 sold a strat
And Wilty even stopped decorating his flat
When, what to our wondering eyes should appear,
But a DV lorry, full of christmasy ware,
Who was the old geezer, with a tidy buffon,
We knew in a moment it must be Modz1.
More rapid than a Facebook mob new posters they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called the regulars by name;
"Now, Monarch! now, OJB! now, Trevor and Saxman!
Oh, Waxxy! oh trbguy! oh, JAYDMF and also sphelan!
To the top of the page! to the top was the calll!
I've got presents to give - to you one and all!"
So up to the top of the page the posters they flew,
For the lorry load of prizes, and IABP went up there too.
And then, in a twinkling, I tell you truth
A thousand new posters fell in through the roof
As we all heard the noise and were turning around,
Down from on high St. Modz1 came with a bound.
He was dressed all in lycra, from his head to his toe,
And his clothes were that tight everything was on show;
A bundle of prizes he had flung on his back,
And he looked like Charles Laughton when he played the hunchback.
His face needed Olay - how it was wrinkled! he's ancient I suppose!
His legs were quite bandy and he had Manilow's nose!
His droll little mouth revealed traces of drink,
And the beard of his chin smelled of Jack Daniels, I think;
The stump of a fag he held tight in stained teeth,
And we all came to realise he's a bit of a freak;
He had a fat face and a rather large belly,
That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly.
He was chubby and lardy, and looked beyond help,
And I laughed when I saw him, I'm handsome myself;
A wink of his eye, he put a bag over his head,
What a relief! I now had nothing to dread;
He spoke not a word, he had come straight from work,
And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, he brought the competition to a close;
He got back in his lorry and gave his helpers a whistle,
And with a face like a bulldog licking a thistle.
I heard him exclaim, as he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night."

Marvellous!!
One of the hip hop producers should compile all your verses and get a rapper to deliver them for a Yuletide jingle, to take on John Sergeants bid for the top of the charts this xmas.

T'would be most excellent.
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  #27 (permalink)  
Old 15th December 2008 , 10:47 AM
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So it's Christmas morning and I get up to see what Santa has left me. There it is, my Action Man, but he's German. My brother wanted one too and his was British. He confessed many years later that he had got up early and switched them. My Action Man had to lose a lot of battles but he won a lot of World Cups.



So I get up for my train set and there it is. Santa had set it up. It was oval in shape and had a station and it went around the track in about ten seconds. I'm sure I visualised it 10 times bigger. It could never really be described as interesting and it was never going to last me a whole year. It ran on a battery in a box with wires. I think I got 20 minutes out of it. The shops in those days closed for days so all I could do was look at my train set, which was an engine, two carriages and 6ft of track. I eventually bought a transformer but the interest factor never really got above dire.



So I asked for a puppet. I know, it beggars belief. What's more it was a farmer type fella. Just ridiculous. I get up at four in morning for this. By ten past four it's a tangled mess. All the strings need taking off and putting back. Bad choice. Don't do it kids. Never ask for a puppet even if you are weird.



So I'm getting a bike. I get up and go into the garage. Wow! Very shiny and looks great.'Happy Christmas Biro'. It's for one of my bros. I look around and see my name on a card - 'Happy Christmas Bic. Enjoy your brother's old knackered bike' - Not only am I wearing his old clothes, I'm now riding his boneshaker. Some may call it vintage but I'd call it chipped, mishapen and dangerous.

So I get a space invader game. It's two flying saucers going side to side and firing. I fire back. I complete the game to its maximum score on about my third go. If only I could have had the Atari my mate got with 300 games. I still have the game.



Happy Days. Kids today really don't know how obnoxious (I meant lucky. Oh no, I was right first time) they are.
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Last edited by I_Am_Bic_Pentameter; 15th December 2008 at 10:52 AM. . <
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  #28 (permalink)  
Old 17th February 2012 , 06:22 PM
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Quote:
Originally Posted by I_Am_Bic_Pentameter View Post
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the DV forum
Not a poster was stirring, not even a Sureno;
His stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Modz1 would soon would be there;
The other posters were all snug and taking their meds,
While visions of Pro Tools HD danced in their heads;
And musicmaker1 in her LBD, and NDK in a cap,
Had just settled down and were listening to rap,
When out on General Announcements there was such a clatter,
Everyone sprang from their stupor to see what was the matter.
Emails were sent and posts flew like a flash,
Tom DV Romford put down his signature Slash.
Dave stopped playing keys, Terminal3 sold a strat
And Wilty even stopped decorating his flat
When, what to our wondering eyes should appear,
But a DV lorry, full of christmasy fare,
Who was the old geezer, with a tidy bouffant,
We knew in a moment it must be Modz1.
More rapid than a Facebook mob new posters they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called the regulars by name;
"Now, Monarch! now, OJB! now, Trevor and Saxman!
Oh, Waxxy! oh trbguy! oh, JAYDMF and also sphelan!
To the top of the page! to the top was the calll!
I've got presents to give - to you one and all!"
So up to the top of the page the posters they flew,
For the lorry load of prizes, and IABP went up there too.
And then, in a twinkling, I tell you truth
A thousand new posters fell in through the roof
As we all heard the noise and were turning around,
Down from on high St. Modz1 came with a bound.
He was dressed all in lycra, from his head to his toe,
And his clothes were that tight everything was on show;
A bundle of prizes he had flung on his back,
And he looked like Charles Laughton when he played the hunchback.
His face needed Olay - how it was wrinkled! he's ancient I suppose!
His legs were quite bandy and he had Manilow's nose!
His droll little mouth revealed traces of drink,
And the beard of his chin smelled of Jack Daniels, I think;
The stump of a fag he held tight in stained teeth,
And we all came to realise he's a bit of a freak;
He had a fat face and a rather large belly,
That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly.
He was chubby and lardy, and looked beyond help,
And I laughed when I saw him, I'm handsome myself;
A wink of his eye, he put a bag over his head,
What a relief! I now had nothing to dread;
He spoke not a word, he had come straight from work,
And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, he brought the competition to a close;
He got back in his lorry and gave his helpers a whistle,
And with a face like a bulldog licking a thistle.
I heard him exclaim, as he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night."
Brilliant IABP. I'm not sure how I missed this first time around!
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  #29 (permalink)  
Old 5th May 2012 , 11:29 PM
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