[Growltigger]

"Ouch ouch ouch ouch, RD" says GT hopping on one foot, " I have one thing to say to you, you evil north western black pudding scoffing ferret felcher, and that BAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH".

Hey guys, do you know that Raging Deadstar has 15 girlfriends? they are all called Flossy!!

Yep, I am from Canterbury, the deep south of England, I suppose like the equivalent of Alabama but without the rednecks, stupid accents and Americans...

And as for England, it is god's own earth

football hooligans? what are we doing now in the cantina (PS Chelsea to win 2 nil on the return leg and beat Monaco on the away goal rule PPS Slae Sharks to make Europe after getting through on thr wildcard),

kebabs? never touch them, I like my food not to look like a girl's private parts

Essex girls - fine with me, dont knock 'em until you try them, or at least, knock them when you try them..

And yes, Mrs GT knows about the expenses. AS long as she gets the opportunity to terrorise the kingdom of the danes, and shop of course, she is fine

Monsieur Le Furibond Etoile Du Mort, you 'av met your Waterloo you stupid Cumbrian Knigggut,

GT pulls out his most fearsome weapon, the flaming serrated armoured plated eggwhisk of doom....(you know, one of those with two whirly things and a handle you resolve, except this one is evil and on fire)

RD's broadsword is rapidly chopped into bits, and ask the eggwhisk of doom delves in, organs, blood, boldily parts, hair, clothing and other mucky bits of RD (including that purply wobbly bit by the spleen) are sprayed all round the cantina......

RD is no more, he is shredded and gazing round, GT sees that the Byzantine mongoose horde has annihilated it opposition. The cantina is his.

Now for some peace and quiet, taking RD's still steaming head, GT drops his kecks and sits down upon it, opening his copy of the financial times, and settling down for a nice quiet crap.

Ahhhhhh, peace, at Last.

[ April 27, 2004, 14:25: Message edited by: Growltigger ]