I Got Twenty One Words...

[i_claim_my_novelty_face]

out his anus, he let out a yelp. Dekionplexis was standing by the door, spurting irrelevance while sucking on a large

[Crazy Penis]

frozen peregrine falcon head which he had managed to detatch from its owner only several days before, during a rampage at

[Munday's Chylde]

around seven o'clock, "Don't mind me." he said, "I'm just performance art."
"I don't care what you are." Yearly replied, "I'm...

[butnut]

...getting married in the morning, ding dong, the bells are going to chime..."

At this precise moment, Rats screamed as

[Rubbish Monkey]

..he touched himself. His loins hadn't felt so alive ever since seeing  his sisters organless barbie doll as a young child

[Jemble Fred]

..reminded him that very day. "So what are we waiting for?" he chimed, beautifully. "The bastard vicar of course, you fucking...

[Ambient Sheep]

[ignore]

[Ambient Sheep]

...as a young child,

the doll maintaining its blank plastic stare as the neighbour's small dog attempted oral penetration of the doll's slightly parted lips,

EDIT: Bother, but I like it so much I'm going to keep it in for posterity.  Meanwhile:

..."The bastard vicar of course, you fucking...

twat", said Yearly, as he gently caressed the hair at the nape of Partridge's neck.  "If this vicar doesn't turn up

[Jemble Fred]

then absolutely everything's been ruined by one gosh-darned fool, and we may as well go home, put our clothes on, and

[Hairy Chin]

have a nice mug of Ovaltine while we watch The Bill. PLC suddenly remembered that Tracey was involved in the story

[Crazy Penis]

somewhere and he set about reading the script in an attempt to find out where she could have got to. But

[butnut]

the writer had opted for the most obvious trick in the book and Tracy came crashing through the window shouting "Wait...

[Ambient Sheep]

...Yearly, don't do this, you know I love you!"  At this, Partridge went a funny colour, pouted, and said "But what

[Munday's Chylde]

...about the blue glare at the start? And how did our car become a trolley? And why does Tracey keep appearing?"

[Ambient Sheep]

"All good questions," mused Yearly, "I wondered about the first two myself.  What say we go and find that blue glare?"

[butnut]

"But what about our marriage?" replied PLC. "Don't you get the feeling we're being controlled by a load of different people?"

[Ambient Sheep]

:-)

"Whatever do you mean?", cried Yearly.  "Anyone would think you were Pinball, you and your paranoid conspiracy theories.  Next thing you

[Crazy Penis]

will have us whisked off to Iraq, to play soldiers and build sandcastles and pissing on them. And look, here we

[Munday's Chylde]

must end this conversation. I don't love you anymore. Goodbye forever." and so saying he flew away leaving behind a large...

[Cerys]

... pile of something unspeakable. which reeked gungily of toenail clippings and blubber that was clearly past its sell-by date.  PLC, gagging,

[Cambrian Times]

then vomited copiously on the diabolically patterned mosaic floor. Suddenly the floor started to implode and a Turak-han fresh from Sunnydale,

[Hairy Chin]

emerged with an unfeasably large bouquet of fresh flowers, which smelled absolutely delightful. The thing from the telly offered the flowers

[Big Jack McBastard]

ignore

<has an 'emerged' moment with Hairy>

[Hairy Chin]

ignore

<has an 'emerged' moment with Hairy>

hello, sailor.

[Smackhead Kangaroo]

It's called being born Jacko

emerged with an unfeasably large bouquet of fresh flowers, which smelled absolutely delightful. The thing from the telly offered the flowers

no respite.Suspecting the plot of dragging, producers introduced Schiller and other Verbwhores in a hope to rekindle interest in

[Big Jack McBastard]

their own arseholes, as that is what they'd be reduced to perusing for their entertainment needs, if such evil prevailed.

[Munday's Chylde]

the story so far... (I mean we wouldn't want this getting confusing would we?)

One morning, Almost Yearly was washing his car. "That's funny", he thought to himself, "I've never noticed that strange blue glare. As he looked closer, he realised that the blue glare was moving west at quite a speed. He called for his faithful partner in crime, partridge's love-child, and they leapt into the yearly-mobile, zipping up their now buttery overalls as they went.
"Rub it in me piss clock frig off" squeeled a randy tramp from the roadside as they sped along through the fruit and vegetable aisle, grasping randomly at legumes and leaving a trail of bruised melons in their wake. It was always when PLC was allowed to drive, he always had trouble steering and changing gear at the same time. However, this time it would prove to be a tragic turn of events. The trolley was already well out of control as they neared frozen food, as a nearsighted, grey haired grandmother of seventy eight bent over to inspect the frozen peas. The trolley screamed, "Get out of my way you vile old woman," but it was too late and the trolley crashed right into the supermarket mascot, 'Willy the wonder-whale' who promptly exploded drenching the aisle and it's customers in fatty blubber. At that moment TraceyQ arrived to see if she could be of any help.
 "Look at this mess!", she exclaimed, "can I offer you some good will? The name's Tracey, I've come with a box of tissues." In the ensuing panic she was grabbed by ...who? I could not remember. The policeman who was taking my statement looked up from his scribblings and stared at me.
"Don't i know you from somewhere?" the last time we'd met i'd been deep inside his wife at a swingers meet; lovely lass she was, spoke 6 languages and could whistle like a navvy shame about that bit of unpleasantness involving the toothpick incident. Nobody believed I was trying to expel the toothpick whilst simultaniously taking her from behind. What's done is done.
"I need you cool - are you cool?". Somewhere in the distance, Harvey Keitel was finishing my sentence. TraceyQ started to panic. She'd had a dislike of Harvey Keitel since she was four, when he reversed his car over her trike, the brute. Happily she'd exacted revenge by pissing down his chimney the following Christmas Eve, something which Keitel was rather startled to discover since at the time he was looking up there to try and see santa. up the chimmney that is, not tracey.
This rivalry esculated into a brutal annual fight, with the methods employed becoming increasingly underhand. Last year Tracy took a large canvas, bought some paint-brushes and attempted to make some Art out this sorry situation. Her good intentions turned sour when when it transpired one of the brushes was infact Keitel's close friend Calista Flockheart. Furious with her mistake, Keitel called up the Society for the Protection of Anorexics, who promptly arrived, assessed the situation, and rapidly decided that they must give TraceyQ sanctuary. embedded in the beard shared by every member of SPA, Q began to wonder, what happened to plc and yearly?
It turned out that our heroes had brushed off the whale blubber, escaped from police custody, and resumed their pursuit of a marriage license. They had tried everywhere in England, but now they had hit gold in Germany. As they strode into Berlin they knew something was not right. An awful smell was present and upon turning round they were annoyed to see Rats, wearing a lab coat and mixing several noxious chemicals in test tubes.
"At last", he said, "my Bobby Davro spaff has developed a taste not unlike pg tips. here yearly, wrap yer tastebuds round this!" but as he passed it out his anus, he let out a yelp. Dekionplexis was standing by the door, spurting irrelevance while sucking on a large frozen peregrine falcon head which he had managed to detatch from its owner only several days before, during a rampage at around seven o'clock,
"Don't mind me." he said, "I'm just performance art."
"I don't care what you are." Yearly replied, "I'm getting married in the morning, ding dong, the bells are going to chime..."
At that precise moment, Rats screamed as he touched himself. His loins hadn't felt so alive ever since seeing his sisters organless barbie doll as a young child reminded him that very day.
"So what are we waiting for?" he chimed, beautifully.
"The bastard vicar of course, you fucking twat", said Yearly, as he gently caressed the hair at the nape of Partridge's neck. "If this vicar doesn't turn up then absolutely everything's been ruined by one gosh-darned fool, and we may as well go home, put our clothes on, and have a nice mug of Ovaltine while we watch The Bill.
PLC suddenly remembered that Tracey was involved in the story somewhere and he set about reading the script in an attempt to find out where she could have got to. But the writer had opted for the most obvious trick in the book and Tracy came crashing through the window shouting
"Wait Yearly, don't do this, you know I love you!" At this, Partridge went a funny colour, pouted, and said,
"But what about our marriage?" replied PLC. "Don't you get the feeling we're being controlled by a load of different people?"
"Whatever do you mean?", cried Yearly. "Anyone would think you were Pinball, you and your paranoid conspiracy theories. Next thing you will have us whisked off to Iraq, to play soldiers and build sandcastles and pissing on them. And look, here we must end this conversation. I don't love you anymore. Goodbye forever." and so saying he flew away leaving behind a large pile of something unspeakable. which reeked gungily of toenail clippings and blubber that was clearly past its sell-by date. PLC, gagging, then vomited copiously on the diabolically patterned mosaic floor. Suddenly the floor started to implode and a Turak-han fresh from Sunnydale emerged with an unfeasably large bouquet of fresh flowers, which smelled absolutely delightful. The thing from the telly offered the flowers no respite.
Suspecting the plot of dragging, producers introduced Schiller and other Verbwhores in a hope to rekindle interest in their own arseholes, as that is what they'd be reduced to perusing for their entertainment needs, if such evil prevailed

[smoker]

then the blue light reappeared, and zipped into plc's left ear. faster than a speeding ticket  yearly followed. inside plc's mind

[Almost Yearly]

was a world of flouncey satchels, all interlinked by fizzing pathways like Tron or something. In each satchel he could see

[TJ]

'Pie Face' out of the Dennis The Menace comic strip from popular children's comic "The Beano". He was scribbling equations