Dirty Old Victorian Longears's page

Triple 69s... knob and tube... Mrs Fortescue showing a glimpse of ankle when climbing onto the omnibus to Alma Crescent... It's a veritable Sodom and Gomorrah around here, by Bacchus!

The cutting edge of contemporary comedy!

Drejk wrote:

Murder employees doesn't sound as good.

Murder-commuters.

Peregrinatory Deanimationists.

Limeylongears wrote:

Get well soon, TS!

What might cheer you up a bit, or might not, is that the BBC are making a TV adaptation of Michael Moorcock's 'Runestaff' books.. I pray that they don't cock it up.

A series with imperialist, decadent Great Britain being the bad guys trying to take over Europe? What could possibly go wrong with that?

But Drejk, the question is, are we being imperialistic and decadent enough?

Can't we do better?

Where's my mantis mask?

You see what you people made me do, I hope you're proud of yourselves!

No no, I can't see. Do it again, extra vigorously.

And only once did a teacher ever actually read it, and of course it was the biggest stick-up-your-butt teacher in the entire school (also infamous for her skin-tight, zip-up-the-back polyester pants she wore every day), and she got very upset and the head tutor had to apologize. Once she was gone, he admitted that it was pretty darned funny.

For some reason, all I took in there were the words 'butt' and 'skin-tight polyester pants'

Then again, some people can get away with skin-tight polyester pants, and some can't, Queen Victoria being one of the former.

F!$@ yeah I'm not wearing clothes.

Although, perhaps not the best attire for pillar building...

It's not Nelson's Column, IT'S MINE!!!

I have to make my opinions known!

*noisy cat*

It's like how I tell TL about his blasphemy concerning cream cheese wanton!

Golly, you lot are weird.

Cream cheese wantons?

I say!

[

Anyway, gotta get to work, work all day, stealing the underpants, hey.

That's my job!

The kind of books you find in a box in the back of the garage with "great interviews" perhaps.

Or was that just me.

Or the ones you find out in the woods, with True Confessions and Letters that are Definitely from Actual Female Readers, which you read for the articles, of course.

Six times a night, if I can get it!

Oh. Fork. I see.

The next poster has United Cutlery.

I wonder if it's normal for the female leopard to snarl at the male after the deed, sending him scampering across the enclosure, then pointedly refuse to look at him while he paces around dejectedly.

Story of my life.

HOLY CR@P, I just pulled four legendaries in a row!!!

Isn't it fun when that happens?

Ah, legendaries, not legionaries. O well.

What doesn't kill me, makes me danglier.

Sounds like a fantastic moving picture entertainment, unlike 'Prince Albert On The Can', which was rightly banned across the British Empire and beyond, unlike cricket, buttoned-up trousers and opium in the kedgeree.

Kjeldorn wrote:

Tires to pat Lyn on the back through his monitor, pushing a hot cup of Grandmama Kjeldorns special brew against it.

in other related new. Its the 7 day of straight from dusk til dawn raining, so if I disappear from here its because Denmark has slid of the bedrock and into the North Sea.
Hopefully it will undergo some sort of Atlantean transformation there and one day rise again on giant hydraulic legs to wage war on the dry-landers...

So this is the kind of post I make, when the phones set to Danish as the default language...

*Runs away crying*

Edit:

Sissyl wrote:

Kjeldorn, don't sink. Don't forget, we swedes still plan on invading, and we can't do that if there is no Denmark.

Sissyl, I'm hurt...

I thought you knew...

You can come over and conquer this "territory" anytime you want.

*Winks seductively, while lounging on his sofa, just wearing a bathrobe*

So all those surreptitiously imported Scandinavian films I watched were documentaries after all!

I don't even know what a Wax cylinder is xD

Like one of those new-fangled shellac gramophone discs, except you can carry it around under your top hat, up your nose, or in your muff.

I still remember how excited I was when 'Hurrah For Mafeking' by Queen Victoria's Mahogany Rush came out on wax cylinder.

I was looking at temps in the mid to late 90s.

20 years on, very little has changed.

A president for vice is a very good idea indeed.

I'd enter the running, but I couldn't possibly compete with Goattoucher.

Do you repair Action Rangers at an Action Ranger Smith's?

*Buries head in rack*

Blrblrblrblrblrblrblrblrblrblrblrblrblrblrblrblrblrblrblrblrblrblr

Fat bottomed girls, they make the rockin' world go round.

By sitting on Uncle Teddy's face until he stops breathing.

Wowee, what a way to go {sighs dreamily}

That somehow felt vaguely masturbatory. Which, if pronounced "mas-TER-ba-tor-y" sounds like a room designed for self-pleasure. As in, "I shall now retire to the masturbatory for a while before I go to work".

I've got one of those. It overlooks the maids' changing room.

Mnyes, 'by accident' It said on the script: 'You are the plumber', or perhaps 'You are the Beef and Oyster Pie Delivery Boy'

Then it said 'Enter without knocking', although I may have got that mixed up with a slightly later stage direction.

The next poster, a member of the Dirty Old British Board of Film Classification, would like to tell the director where cuts will have to be made in the name of public decency.

Oooooh, four and twenty virgins came to Last One To Post,
And when the feast was over, the thread was locked and closed,
Singing bears to your partner, tickle a golem's balls,
If you ain't been blown up on a Wednesday night, you've never been blown at all.

(TBC)

You're both too late.

I have already claimed it for BRITAIN, slaughtered 80% of the inhabitants and forced the remainder to enjoy trousers, cricket and lukewarm tea on pain of a jolly good spanking.

I also found a reprint of a 1890s-1900s shagger's guidebook called 'The Horn Book', which contained some relatively sensible techniques, some rather silly ones - 'Dog-Style Flying', 'The Sharpshooter' (where you stand over the other side of the room, and...), and 'The Herculean Feat' (Ohh, clean out my stables, you magnificent he-beast!!) - and some extremely silly ones, like 'The Wheelbarrow', where the female partner grips a little stool with castors on the bottom or a stick with wheels on each end, apparently, and the male partner picks her up by the legs and trundles her about while busily doing the Necessary.

If anyone feels sufficiently adventurous to give this a go, please do let me know how you get on, though you're paying your own hospital bills.

How retro do you want it.

Old skool style Scooby Doo? Wacky Races?
Boy bands?
SNES?

Bustles, laudanum and Imperial-Grade spanking!

Well, it's official. I was being quiet about it but now I can finally say it.

I got a promotion at my main job.

Jolly good show!

Or, to be precise, I have n free titties, where n = (number of wives x 3)

The next poster is philosophically opposed to free titties.

Freehold DM wrote:

damn. It really is the cute girl at the party who gives you crabs.

Freehold, I've told you this before, in New York and LA all the naughty feel good progressive girls shave.

God Bless them.

Ahem.

Boo! Hiss! Boo!

Pipe down, you two.

{teleports in, sips gin and tonic} 400 aliases? Oh my, don't strain yourself, dear boy.

I shan't, old fruit. We did all this sort of thing six ways past last Tuesday with our eyes closed and our legs crossed in the East India Company.

They just get dirty again. :(

How true that is!

Back in my day, Twilight 2000 took place in the distant future.

Back in my day, 'Space 1889' took place in the distant future.

Limeylongears wrote:

Darth Yesterday wrote:

Come! Join the Dark side (coffee)!

We have cookies, and we don't call them "crumpets"

Neither do we...

No, but you call them biscuits, and that's awful, because then what do you call those things you eat at breakfast with gravy?

And don't say scones! Those are those delicious dry pastries that are so much thicker than regular pastries!

What sort of dashed cad eats gravy for bally breakfast, by George?!

A floxey moxey.

... hanging around with a Cyprian, a Dolly-Mop and a Demi-Mondaine, eh? Haw haw!

Black fezzes are hardly the headgear of a gentleman, sirrah!

Because I don't work the register for the last few years they haven't been able to evaluate myself and a select few other people, because everything is based on sales or credit card sign ups product insurance plans, which all happens at the register or service desk.

It's been pretty sweet.

Until now. They now judge us by how many holes (on the shelf) we fill every night. But I figured out which holes are the most important and I fill those holes. Then let the newbs worry about the rest.

Nice work if you can get it. Haw haw!

Now he tells me. Pschaw!

And today we mourn Kajehase's DVD player, which gave up the ghost at the advanced age of 15 after a long and much-appreciated life serving its owner with a steady stream of entertainment.

*Stands to attention and salutes as his trousers are the oddly circular and shiny flag is lowered to half-mast. A lone bugler plays the Last Postman Pat Box Set as the sun slowly slips below the horizon*

I went to McDonald's and ordered a McGangbang. Kind of disappointing. Not enough meat between the buns. I have a plan, though. What we gotta do is go bigger. Skip these limp McDoubles and McChickens. Get a double Quarter Pounder with cheese and one of them Buttermilk Crispy Chicken sandwiches. Make sure it has bacon. Now that'll make a meal. Needs an impressive name, though. A mere bang is not enough. We shall call it...

The McOrgy.

The plot for my next moving picture production appears to have just written itself! Haw haw!

(NB: Lose the clowns. And the chicken)

Star of a thousand naughty daguerreotypes and now also available on hi-res wax cylinder, old prong!

The next poster intends to drive filthy Sin out of paizo.com, come what may.

Tally ho! Forward, men! Huzzah for the 41st Light Refreshments!

Stap me vitals, sirrah, it's all been downhill since bustles went out of fashion. You mark my words, it's the thin end of the bottom, er, wedge.