I Got A Third Lot Of Twenty One Words

[TJ]

Same rules as last time...


Five months had passed since anyone had seen PLC. Police enquiries met a 'wall of silence'. Almost Yearly was saying nothing.

[butnut]

Inspector Slim was puzzled. Normally this gang of criminals were so talkative. But what had suddenly led to this silence? He

[smoker]

drained a fifth of the bottle of scotch he kept in the bottom drawer of his desk and picked up the

[Banana Woofwoof]

phone.  He dialled, and waited. "Weekender!" he screamed into the mouthpiece.  "Come home! I still love you!" Sobbing, he folded his

[smoker]

schlong in the usual three places and placed it carefully in his briefcase, before looking out the window to see if

[butnut]

it was day or night. Before he could make up his mind, the phone rang.

It was Weekender - and he sounded

[MonkeyDrummer]

EDIT - Too late

[Jemble Fred]

like Dale Winton. But not a normal Dale Winton – this was a haunted, hunted, hangdog Winton, breathless and sexy.

"Please help,

You bastards – this thread could get me sacked, I've been resisting the urge to post all morning!

[TJ]

and other titles of Beatle songs". The mysterious message stopped there. Cautiously he flipped through his rolodex looking for the address

[smoker]

of a liverpudlian exorcist. if he was going to save weekender, and plc, he'd need to work fast. his erect

[Jemble Fred]

and manly frame dragged itself out of his beanbag. There was no time to lose.

He popped to the launderette first,

[Neville Chamberlain]

then dashed to the pub, ostensibly for a "swift half", though this quickly descended into an all-day drinking session. Stumbling

[Jemble Fred]

into the gents at roughly teatime (although it could have been suppertime, or perhaps brunch – Slim had no concept of mealtimes

[smoker]

, he'd been that way ever since his mother, drunk as usual, served him his dinner from three nights previous for breakfast

[dot]

which she christened "binner", having fished it out of the bin. He unfolded his schlong from the briefcase and aimed it

[Neville Chamberlain]

right at his shoes. He was drunk, it didn't matter, hey, it might even be funny. Unfortunately, he missed and accidentally

[smoker]

blinded the cat.

slim left the toilet and made his way outside. he stood on the pavement, trying to get his

[dot]

schlong back into the briefcase.
Unfortunatly he was spotted by a bobby "allo allo" he said "hi de hi, hi de

[sam and janet evening]

so slim, being the obedient sort, hid. The policeman started whistling 'nice work if you can get it' causing a sudden

[smoker]

upsurge of trading on the stock exchange. when he was gone, slim reappeared, and made off in the direction of the

[Mediocre Rich]

liverpudlian exorcist's address.  Unfortunately slim was distracted.  He had things on his mind, things were bothering him, if only these things

[smoker]

could be compiled in some form of thread, he could start resolving them. until that time, he could only keep drinking

[Mediocre Rich]

in the cool night air to clear his head.  He turned into the liverpudlian exorcists driveway with a sense of trepidation. Would he

[falafel]

ever solve the mystery of the missing shoe? And what had happened to his pet dachshund Bruno? "Tune in next week

[Jemble Fred]

" he thought to himself, wonderfully.

"Alright, la, how's it going?" came a voice from the swimming pool. There, in the shallow

[dot]

pleasures of third rate crack cocaine and self abuse, slouched ian the exorcist, possessed by the ghost of edgar alan poe

[dot]

"We need an exorcist to exorcise my deamons" he wailed
"How unfit are your deamons? Who used to be an orcist"

[Jemble Fred]

Slim knew not where these voices came from – Ian simply gazed at him with a fixed leer, flecks of ropy cheese

[Mediocre Rich]

drooped from his bushy moustache.  "Is dat you kenny? Eh Kenny remember la,  Walk on, Walk on, wi' ope in yer

[Neville Chamberlain]

'earts and-" Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. It was Boris Johnson, holding a copy of the Sun newspaper.