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Return Of The Son Of Twenty One Words

Started by TJ, April 13, 2006, 02:51:05 PM

Previous topic - Next topic

TJ

Same drill as before. Add to the story in exactly twenty-one words at a time...



The last committee member added their signature. It was confirmed, then; in exactly sixty three years time, a lampost would be


EDIT: Move this thread, please, someone!

Morgan

erected in the memory of Captain Reginald Pritchard.  And if anyone deserved a memorial lampost, it was Pritchard.  After all, he

Neville Chamberlain

was the man who removed the stigma of the lamppost fetish, who was proud and open about his attraction to lampposts

Neil

Bum, this shows up on the front page as "Return Of The Son Of Twe...", so I thought it was twee, and was very interested to see a discussion of a Twee Pop-based CD Tree disc.  And I'd already decided to ask for a copy, heh!  Ah well....soz, didn't mean to spoil the flow.

Morrisfan82

...

, and in his heyday was the third largest supplier of lampposts and lamppost accessories in Yeovil. His only regret? The enormous

ffogems

penis, which he would have had removed earlier if it weren't for a sagacious old lady who told him that gold

Timmay

blend sponsored that penis for Yeovil's Millenium celebrations. People came from around the world to see it, but the council

Make me smile

bowed to the 'PC Brigade' and tore the enormous phallus down. They replaced it with the most splendid example of a

ffogems

lonely man on a hermitic onanist bender, during which he cooks genital-shaped food, smears his walls with lube and watches

Jemble Fred

the confused looks on the faces of his nearest and dearest as they try to celebrate the cat's birthday.

Sanjeev Baskhar

butnut

thought this was the greatest work of art he'd ever seen and tried to purchase the piece for himself. However, the

Mister Cairo

six-figure salary he was getting annualy from the British Broadcasting Corporation was sadly not quite enough . Perhaps if he had

sproggy


zozman

the number of Pritchard's elderly gay ex-lover, he could persuade him to commission another, even better, bigger, golder penis.  That would

fudgemonkey

come in handy,or would it, he asked himself, musing like musing was going out of fashion, and it had to

sproggy

all make sense somehow.  Gold obviously wasn't the sensible option and  "silver is just too tacky", but plastic could be...

neveragain

just what the doctor ordered! This is, of course, a figure of speech. There weren't now nor ever any practitioners involved.

captain Grimes

thank god, thought prichard. five day later the phalus was delivered to his home covered in  a percuilar greasy liquid that....

Shoulders?-Stomach!

smelt suspiciously like vegetable oil. But it was not vegetable oil. It was the greasy, squalid, gruelling remains of a

skibz

student play about the Beatles, which Constance had written back in Nineteen Seventy Eight. It harboured a terrible secret which proved

Timmay

Quote from: "TJ"The last committee member added their signature. It was confirmed, then; in exactly sixty three years time, a lampost would be
Quote from: "Morgan"errected in the memory of Captain Reginald Pritchard.  And if anyone deserved a memorial lampost, it was Pritchard.  After all, he
Quote from: "Jim"was the man who removed the stigma of the lamppost fetish, who was proud and open about his attraction to lampposts
Quote from: "Muteki", and in his heyday was the third largest supplier of lampposts and lamppost accessories in Yeovil. His only regret? The enormous
Quote from: "ffogems"penis, which he would have had removed earlier if it weren't for a sagacious old lady who told him that gold
Quote from: "Timmay"blend sponsored that penis for Yeovil's Millenium celebrations. People came from around the world to see it, but the council
Quote from: "Make me smile"bowed to the 'PC Brigade' and tore the enormous phallus down. They replaced it with the most splendid example of a
Quote from: "ffogems"lonely man on a hermitic onanist bender, during which he cooks genital-shaped food, smears his walls with lube and watches
Quote from: "Jemble Fred"the confused looks on the faces of his nearest and dearest as they try to celebrate the cat's birthday.

Sanjeev Baskhar
Quote from: "butnut"thought this was the greatest work of art he'd ever seen and tried to purchase the piece for himself. However, the
Quote from: "Mister Cairo"six-figure salary he was getting annualy from the British Broadcasting Corporation was sadly not quite enough . Perhaps if he had
Quote from: "zozman"the number of Pritchard's elderly gay ex-lover, he could persuade him to commission another, even better, bigger, golder penis.  That would
Quote from: "fudgemonkey"come in handy,or would it, he asked himself, musing like musing was going out of fashion, and it had to
Quote from: "sproglette"all make sense somehow.  Gold obviously wasn't the sensible option and  "silver is just too tacky", but plastic could be...
Quote from: "neveragain"just what the doctor ordered! This is, of course, a figure of speech. There weren't now nor ever any practitioners involved.
Quote from: "captain Grimes"thank god, thought prichard. five day later the phalus was delivered to his home covered in  a percuilar greasy liquid that....
Quote from: "Shoulders?-Stomach!"smelt suspiciously like vegetable oil. But it was not vegetable oil. It was the greasy, squalid, gruelling remains of a
Quote from: "skibz"student play about the Beatles, which Constance had written back in Nineteen Seventy Eight. It harboured a terrible secret which proved
conspiracy theorists right, that John Lennon was in fact made of silica gel. It's no wonder that the penis was

John Self

so smelly!

He raced through the text, scandalised, too absorbed to notice the lamppost by his window,  which right then, hilariously,

slim

dropped some scissors on a cat. The cat, looking surprised, let out one final yelp before dropping to the floor and

Timmay

doing sixty press ups before running up a tree. Confused by what he just saw, Prichard unsheathed his weapon and

Shoulders?-Stomach!

introduced its glistening, sharpened blade into his thumb. Much bleeding, much yelps of girly agony, much pooing of satin pants, much

captain Grimes

more, or should I say, many more bad feelings and emotions coursed viciously through his body and out of it. Then

skibz

suddenly, the pain stopped. A retired general who happened to be passing by stopped and looked at him, quizzically. "What's that

gazzyk1ns

stuff you've got scrawled on your forehead? I can barely read it, it's smeared because you're sweating. It looks like "Elephant

John Self

Fuckbubble", but this may be my imagination- what is it? And why are you dicking about like this?" Pritchard replied, "Well,

captain Grimes

i don't see anything better too do, and anyway its what i'm good at.' he chortled scratching his head. 'is that