R . I . P

Message Bookmarked
Bookmark Removed
I like what ‘Ask a Drunk’ has become, established in its ways yet still maintaining that young taste reminiscent to that of a good bottle of “Barón de Farnals”.

We have it all, it seems we are only to happy to sit around discussing the pros and cons of constructive criticism and gazing over the ample samples of scandal and ramble and even the odd decent anecdote to keep up the spirits, for some of us AAD is the very reason we take a shave in the morning, it’s the sugar in our coffee, the ice in our G’n’T, the cat on our lap, the large collection of ‘impress ya mates’ spices in our cupboards, but I digress.

Hatpin-bends we have faced but our heads held high throughout, as we slowly leave the piles of bodies in our tracks (seemingly under Matt’s house) we must start to think of our longevity. We must plan for the future, as the chances are it has probably planned for us. Who knows when other S.M.Hall’alikes may emanate, or Sue Denim’alikes emigrate, and so I propose a plan.

To ensure we maintain this cyber-strong collective we individually draw up our own AAD Insurance/Lifeplan/Will in the event of everything going ‘tits up’.

What shall happen to Lynskey’s body?
What will we all eat at Matt’s funeral?
What will be written on Jarlr’mai’s tombstone?
and…
Who will get Rex’s crystal decanter set?

Robin (RJM), Wednesday, 13 November 2002 15:12 (twenty-three years ago)

At Matts funeral we should eat, well Matt.

Jarlr'mai (jarlrmai), Wednesday, 13 November 2002 17:06 (twenty-three years ago)

Stop looking at me like that Jim, you're worrying me.

Matt (Matt), Wednesday, 13 November 2002 17:09 (twenty-three years ago)

Nah, he'd just taste of garlic!

Robin (RJM), Wednesday, 13 November 2002 17:36 (twenty-three years ago)

I, REX ICHABOD HEZEKIAH PUMP-ACTION WAITROSE, residing at Rotting Old Hut, Disused Wharf, Just Behind Kentucky Fried Chicken, Leith, in order to settle the succession to my estate following my death or assumption of new identity after testifying against Marti ?The Butcher? Zenclowni, provide as follows:-

(1) I revoke all prior Wills and testamentary writings, especially the ones that have obviously been forged by Lynskey.

(2) I appoint DOCTOR PETER OSAMA ANDREWS residing at Top Secret Scientific Research Establishment (Free House), Birmingham to be my Executor.

(3) I direct my Executor to give effect to any future writings subscribed by me however drunk I may have been at the time and with whatever fluids they may be disfigured.

(4) I direct my Executor to make the following bequests:

(a) To the said DOCTOR PETER OSAMA ANDREWS: nothing. Materialism would spoil him.

(b) To the Proprietor of the ORMSKIRK PIE SHOP, Chapel Street, Ormskirk: my liver, kidneys and other internal organs.

(c) To the said MARTI ?THE BUTCHER? ZENCLOWNI of Marty?s Island, Grand Stoetzle, New Jersey?n?Grubby Old Trousers, USA: such objects as may through his agency have been nailed or otherwise attached to my person at time of death.

(d) To BURL GRIZZLY OLE-TIMER COON-TRAPPIN? AIMLESS of The Bakelite Caravanette, Walmart Car Park, Portland, Oregon: the entire contents of my bookshelves, archives, wardrobe, wheely-bins and outbuildings, carriage to be paid by recipient.

(e) To EMERITUS PROFESSOR MICHAEL ALTHUSSER MORRIS of Oxford University Anthropology Library, Go Down Steps Then Press Buzzer Marked Stella, Rear of Revuebar (Emergency Access), Soho, London: the full ceremonial costume of a Privy Councillor and Knight of the Garter, on condition that he always puts it all on before saying anything left-wing.

(f) To PORL McLYNSKEY and CELESTE TITANIA PETTIFER residing together at Daymaker Grange, Ormskirk: my inspiring example. And a carriage clock (non-working).

(g) To MATTHEW JAMES FALLAIZE of Grott Cottage, Chapel Street, Ormskirk: this full-size full-colour Plasticene model of Boscastle Harbour that I?ve just finished making, bugger, one of the puffins has fallen off.

(h) To J?IM J?JARL?RM ?RAI P?P?P?PARKAII ESQUI?I?I?I?IRE also of Grott Cottage, Chapel Street, Ormskirk: a lifetime?s supply of pasta coated in fluff and bootprints.

(i) To ROBIN ?THIS MORNING, CHILDREN, WE?RE GOING TO MIX ME ANOTHER BLOODY MARY WITH ALKA SELTZER? McKENZIE also of Grott Cottage, Chapel Street, Ormskirk: my skull, in the hope that it will serve as an awful warning.

(j) To SIMON ?MAN OF A THOUSAND FACES? WEEBLE of Polymath House, Renaissance Geezer Crescent, Dulwich: a bin-liner filled with Pizza Hut vouchers, to ensure that he retains his appropriate Falstaffian dimensions.

(k) To LADY SUSAN EUPHEMIA DENIM of Chateau Pseudonymé, Nom de Plume, Dordogne: my lifetime?s collection of rare and curious hatpins (valued at £1.05 (?998.89)).

(l) To JONATHAN POOSTER of ?Dungooglewhackin?, Anthrax Crescent, Cheltenham, Glos: sole rights to a very promising game I?ve invented that involves two teams of swimmers piling plastic crates on top of each other, called ?Stackpool?.

(m) To TIMOTHY BOLLARD McCOLLARD of Fiendish Oriental Towers, Far Cathay, Catford: my love-life, with apologies for the unpalatable (not to say nugatory) nature of the bequest.

(n) To ROGER ODO MICHEL HURLEY of ?Shapeshift?, Ambivalent Avenue, Cantabrigia/Ormskirk, Massachusetts/Lancs, USA/UK: an unspecified object at two undisclosed locations.

(o) To ?JARVIS SCOTTAI? of The Principal Apartments, The Vatican, Rome: the assurance that I shall never reveal his true identity, cost me what it may.

(p) To AMY GUNNEAU of 4134 Spam Buildings, Amnesia, Vermont: my obligation to write reams of misleading drivel on the Blissium thread, week after week, year after year, endlessly, until merciful death intervenes.

(q) To THE CHEESEMEISTER of No Fixed Galaxy: oh, I don?t know, probably some cheese or something.

(r) To ALISTAIR WHITTY of Flat 108, Tower Scheduled For Demolition, Methadone Street, The Gorbals, Glasgow: my Indiana Jones hat (all right, it?s only an old cycling helmet with a broken strap, but you can pretend, can?t you?).

(s) To DOCTOR PHILIP GREENSPUN of Massachusetts Institute of Technology, Unit 14, Bonnie Tyler Industrial Park, Scarlet Neck, Arkansas: there is a problem with the server and this bequest is not available at present. Please try again in a few minutes/hours/weeks/years/decades/centuries.

(t) To MARK AUBREY EUGENE BENEDICT CORRIN of First Manhole You Come To, Dead-Dog Alley, Ormskirk: the entire residue of my estate, as a token of my conviction that he, and he alone, can save the human race from destruction.

WHEREOF these presents are subscribed by me at ILXOR on the Thirteenth Day of November Two Thousand and Two in the presence of this witness, Jacob Ludovic Beardsley of 525 Wingra Street, Madison, WI 53715, USA.

Rex (Rex), Wednesday, 13 November 2002 23:33 (twenty-three years ago)

CODICIL

I direct my Executor to make the following additional bequest:

To my dearly loved illegitimate son SEAN MONTMORENCY HALL of Cupboard Under Sink, Men’s Restroom, Sanfranciscophilia Club, 2004 Sleazy Lowlife Boulevard, San Francisco Ca 451, USA: my crystal decanter set, the only valuable item I have ever owned, which I ask him to accept as a token of my shame at packing him off overseas at the age of two months. I blame myself for the way he’s turned out.

Rex (Rex), Wednesday, 13 November 2002 23:34 (twenty-three years ago)

Rex, you good-hearted dog, you! The entire wardrobe? And whatever I can scrape from off your bookshelves, too? You overwhelm me! I've always admired your taste in tatters and old rags. The fingerless gloves! The dirt-encrusted kimonos! The plaid plus-fours and khaki puttees!

All? Mine? This is a dream come true. You won't mind if I pop 'round Tuesday next and pay a personal visit to my... my benefactor! And is it OK with you if I bring a few cardboard boxes with me? Just to do a bit of speculative packing -- just to see if the gammy pram wheel can stand the weight as far as the station? For when you kick off, of course -- not a minute sooner.

Aimless, Thursday, 14 November 2002 02:43 (twenty-three years ago)

Hold on a minute there Rex!
As your executioner, ooops - Freudian slip - I mean executor; would I be required to personally remove your gizzards, skull, and (ugghh!) outer garments, in order to distribute them to your beneficiaries?

If I have to explain to the authorities why I'm hacksawing the head off a disemboweled corpse many more times, then they may begin to distrust my excuses.

Pete Andrews, Thursday, 14 November 2002 15:39 (twenty-three years ago)

I wanted that hat.

Jarlr'mai (jarlrmai), Thursday, 14 November 2002 16:23 (twenty-three years ago)

Pizza Hut? Whilst I am deeply cognizant of the honour you do me, might we undertake a teensy post death variation of the will. In particular, could I trade in the bin bag for a Tesco's carrier bag of vouchers for a rather nice French restaurant? Failing that, how about a year's supply of wood alcohol or something?

Weebleman (StillSimon), Thursday, 14 November 2002 21:33 (twenty-three years ago)

How about that! You can fine people's addresses on the Internet!

Pooster (pooster), Saturday, 16 November 2002 15:57 (twenty-three years ago)

If Sue doesn't show, I get "dibs" on the hatpins.

Zen Clown (Zen Clown), Saturday, 16 November 2002 23:47 (twenty-three years ago)


You must be logged in to post. Please either login here, or if you are not registered, you may register here.