Gats, frails and more gats!

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After a long night locked in my cupboard with a liter of Beefeaters and a omnibus collection of Dashiell Hammet, I have made a new year's resolution to call all women 'frails' and (this is intergral) carry a gat, or two, or four. I am already learning to pick flecks of tobacco off my lower lip.

The fact that I have not handled a firearm since my ill-fated mission into Geneva is of no immediate concern. There are plenty of rats here at the tip to sharpen my skills upon - until I am good enough to face down a whole army of frails.

I say, frails of the world, bring it on! You and all your furry friends as well. You'll never take me alive!

― Aimless, Saturday, 14 December 2002 20:09 (twenty-three years ago)

My weapon of preference is a 44Mag., loaded with Ebola virus. I keep it well oiled. In case someone badder than I am sticks it up my ass.

― Zen Clown (Zen Clown), Sunday, 15 December 2002 00:31 (twenty-three years ago)

Is that a gat in your pocket, or are you just pleased *BANG!* - bloody hell! There was no need for that was there?

― Pete Andrews, Monday, 16 December 2002 10:29 (twenty-three years ago)

Oh my God, Pete! You're bleeding from the useless little top-right pocket of your jeans! And it being Christmas and all! How could they? Here, let me mop your blood in an entirely respectable way...

Don't worry ... I'll stop your DD to Freeserve in your memory.

Here, gents, help me! Help! Heeelp! What are we going to play at Pete's funeral?

I say:
Voulez-vous - Abba (Twas always his fave)
One of these days I'm going to cut you into little pieces! - A tribute by Dave G and that black-hole-eyed fella
MF I'm gonna pop an ebola cap up yo' ass - Zen Clown
I will remember you and will make everyone cry - S Maclauuchchglin
Pete weren't no frail you d*** s***, what the f*** you doin'? - Aled Jones

― Pooster (pooster), Tuesday, 17 December 2002 00:30 (twenty-three years ago)

Hoi! You can stop giving me the kiss of life now Pooster (using your tongue?), and you can stop going through my pockets as well.

Luckily, I always carry my change for the bus and a couple of sachets of spare tomato ketchup in that 'useless' jeans pocket.

Anyway, just in case the worst does happen - I'd like the following as my epitaph:
"It was always his intention to live a full and happy life...... but something came up."

― Pete Andrews, Tuesday, 17 December 2002 10:00 (twenty-three years ago)

Pete lives! Oh! Joyous! Stop me from lapsing into HTML! Let 17 December be known from this day on as the day to wear small change and ketchup in that little wee pocket there... with no sexual innuendo intended whatsoever. Hoorah! Silly Pocket Day!

BTW, Pete, whilst you were sprawled all over the garden, I accidentally looked in your wallet, and saw THAT picture. It's okay. I won't let Chester Zoo know.

― Pooster (pooster), Wednesday, 18 December 2002 01:01 (twenty-three years ago)

Ahhh! Chester Zoo. What an all-time great music hall comedian he was. "Never SPEAK to me of such ferrippery again!" - That was his catchphrase. I thought he was dead now though. Must be in his nineties at least.
What's he going to do about THAT picture anyway? It wasn't even his ferret, and I cleaned and restrung the ukelele before I put it back in his dressing room.

― Pete Andrews, Wednesday, 18 December 2002 15:00 (twenty-three years ago)

Chester Zoo got officially censured during the Second World War, don't you know? I only wish he had never likened Winston Churchill to a hippopotamus. To add insult to injury, the 'real' 'Chester Zoo' named their first hippopotamus baby 'Winston'. Is there no justice in this world?

― Pooster (pooster), Thursday, 19 December 2002 00:35 (twenty-three years ago)

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