Three Word Story Game (again)
Re: Three Word Story Game (again)
Daily Mail editor Nigel Molesworth took to umbrella the poisoned dart laced with precipitate was there ready. "Hack that, you Martian alien being!" "Being wot?" asked Paddington in Peruvian, juggling Seville oranges and cyanide syringes. It seemed that his marmalade tasted of bitter marzipan, marmite, mustard, mussels, margarine, maltezers, mango, and dog piddle. Maybe Monday might make mincemeat of making more marvellous marzipan and melon macaroons, mixed methodically in marinaded monkfish might move more muck than money. Maybe more men move more muck mainly mustering muscle to mow meadows momentarily making many manly machinations magnificently misogamous. Mauritanian master-bakers manipulating moving machinery may make mistakes, merrily mangling members making marmite mayonaise - 'M's favourite dressing & 'M&M' s' double-dollop defecation drops. Dee day then dancing dippy Doris with spots on. Gerald Giraffe Goofed. Geraldine gorilla gallivanted (shoving Aleister aside).
'Twas brillig. Monsieur Le Wiscarol jabbered whilst stroking his pint of Crowley's Slug Bait and picked bulls balls, devilled in Datura Nightshade (a yuppie aperitif). Rigor mortis stiffened, but declined to stand up. "Frankly, my dear, recumbent suits me," said the Butler rhetorically, winded with tomorrow, another day dawned. Slithy toves hit warp speed "och, cap'n she likes it, really - even Bonnie falling
'Twas brillig. Monsieur Le Wiscarol jabbered whilst stroking his pint of Crowley's Slug Bait and picked bulls balls, devilled in Datura Nightshade (a yuppie aperitif). Rigor mortis stiffened, but declined to stand up. "Frankly, my dear, recumbent suits me," said the Butler rhetorically, winded with tomorrow, another day dawned. Slithy toves hit warp speed "och, cap'n she likes it, really - even Bonnie falling
Suppose that this room is a lift. The support breaks and down we go with ever-increasing velocity.
Let us pass the time by performing physical experiments...
--- Arthur Eddington (creator of the Eddington Number).
Let us pass the time by performing physical experiments...
--- Arthur Eddington (creator of the Eddington Number).
- ferrit worrier
- Posts: 5503
- Joined: 27 Jun 2008, 7:58pm
- Location: south Manchester
Re: Three Word Story Game (again)
Daily Mail editor Nigel Molesworth took to umbrella the poisoned dart laced with precipitate was there ready. "Hack that, you Martian alien being!" "Being wot?" asked Paddington in Peruvian, juggling Seville oranges and cyanide syringes. It seemed that his marmalade tasted of bitter marzipan, marmite, mustard, mussels, margarine, maltezers, mango, and dog piddle. Maybe Monday might make mincemeat of making more marvellous marzipan and melon macaroons, mixed methodically in marinaded monkfish might move more muck than money. Maybe more men move more muck mainly mustering muscle to mow meadows momentarily making many manly machinations magnificently misogamous. Mauritanian master-bakers manipulating moving machinery may make mistakes, merrily mangling members making marmite mayonaise - 'M's favourite dressing & 'M&M' s' double-dollop defecation drops. Dee day then dancing dippy Doris with spots on. Gerald Giraffe Goofed. Geraldine gorilla gallivanted (shoving Aleister aside).
'Twas brillig. Monsieur Le Wiscarol jabbered whilst stroking his pint of Crowley's Slug Bait and picked bulls balls, devilled in Datura Nightshade (a yuppie aperitif). Rigor mortis stiffened, but declined to stand up. "Frankly, my dear, recumbent suits me," said the Butler rhetorically, winded with tomorrow, another day dawned. Slithy toves hit warp speed "och, cap'n she likes it, really - even Bonnie falling skies wouldn't stop
'Twas brillig. Monsieur Le Wiscarol jabbered whilst stroking his pint of Crowley's Slug Bait and picked bulls balls, devilled in Datura Nightshade (a yuppie aperitif). Rigor mortis stiffened, but declined to stand up. "Frankly, my dear, recumbent suits me," said the Butler rhetorically, winded with tomorrow, another day dawned. Slithy toves hit warp speed "och, cap'n she likes it, really - even Bonnie falling skies wouldn't stop
Percussive maintainance, if it don't fit, hit it with the hammer.
Re: Three Word Story Game (again)
Daily Mail editor Nigel Molesworth took to umbrella the poisoned dart laced with precipitate was there ready. "Hack that, you Martian alien being!" "Being wot?" asked Paddington in Peruvian, juggling Seville oranges and cyanide syringes. It seemed that his marmalade tasted of bitter marzipan, marmite, mustard, mussels, margarine, maltezers, mango, and dog piddle. Maybe Monday might make mincemeat of making more marvellous marzipan and melon macaroons, mixed methodically in marinaded monkfish might move more muck than money. Maybe more men move more muck mainly mustering muscle to mow meadows momentarily making many manly machinations magnificently misogamous. Mauritanian master-bakers manipulating moving machinery may make mistakes, merrily mangling members making marmite mayonaise - 'M's favourite dressing & 'M&M' s' double-dollop defecation drops. Dee day then dancing dippy Doris with spots on. Gerald Giraffe Goofed. Geraldine gorilla gallivanted (shoving Aleister aside).
'Twas brillig. Monsieur Le Wiscarol jabbered whilst stroking his pint of Crowley's Slug Bait and picked bulls balls, devilled in Datura Nightshade (a yuppie aperitif). Rigor mortis stiffened, but declined to stand up. "Frankly, my dear, recumbent suits me," said the Butler rhetorically, winded with tomorrow, another day dawned. Slithy toves hit warp speed "och, cap'n she likes it, really - even Bonnie falling skies wouldn't stop the Auld Girrul
'Twas brillig. Monsieur Le Wiscarol jabbered whilst stroking his pint of Crowley's Slug Bait and picked bulls balls, devilled in Datura Nightshade (a yuppie aperitif). Rigor mortis stiffened, but declined to stand up. "Frankly, my dear, recumbent suits me," said the Butler rhetorically, winded with tomorrow, another day dawned. Slithy toves hit warp speed "och, cap'n she likes it, really - even Bonnie falling skies wouldn't stop the Auld Girrul
Have we got time for another cuppa?
Re: Three Word Story Game (again)
Daily Mail editor Nigel Molesworth took to umbrella the poisoned dart laced with precipitate was there ready. "Hack that, you Martian alien being!" "Being wot?" asked Paddington in Peruvian, juggling Seville oranges and cyanide syringes. It seemed that his marmalade tasted of bitter marzipan, marmite, mustard, mussels, margarine, maltezers, mango, and dog piddle. Maybe Monday might make mincemeat of making more marvellous marzipan and melon macaroons, mixed methodically in marinaded monkfish might move more muck than money. Maybe more men move more muck mainly mustering muscle to mow meadows momentarily making many manly machinations magnificently misogamous. Mauritanian master-bakers manipulating moving machinery may make mistakes, merrily mangling members making marmite mayonaise - 'M's favourite dressing & 'M&M' s' double-dollop defecation drops. Dee day then dancing dippy Doris with spots on. Gerald Giraffe Goofed. Geraldine gorilla gallivanted (shoving Aleister aside).
'Twas brillig. Monsieur Le Wiscarol jabbered whilst stroking his pint of Crowley's Slug Bait and picked bulls balls, devilled in Datura Nightshade (a yuppie aperitif). Rigor mortis stiffened, but declined to stand up. "Frankly, my dear, recumbent suits me," said the Butler rhetorically, winded with tomorrow, another day dawned. Slithy toves hit warp speed "och, cap'n she likes it, really - even Bonnie falling skies wouldn't stop the Auld Girrul now in bucket
'Twas brillig. Monsieur Le Wiscarol jabbered whilst stroking his pint of Crowley's Slug Bait and picked bulls balls, devilled in Datura Nightshade (a yuppie aperitif). Rigor mortis stiffened, but declined to stand up. "Frankly, my dear, recumbent suits me," said the Butler rhetorically, winded with tomorrow, another day dawned. Slithy toves hit warp speed "och, cap'n she likes it, really - even Bonnie falling skies wouldn't stop the Auld Girrul now in bucket
Re: Three Word Story Game (again)
Daily Mail editor Nigel Molesworth took to umbrella the poisoned dart laced with precipitate was there ready. "Hack that, you Martian alien being!" "Being wot?" asked Paddington in Peruvian, juggling Seville oranges and cyanide syringes. It seemed that his marmalade tasted of bitter marzipan, marmite, mustard, mussels, margarine, maltezers, mango, and dog piddle. Maybe Monday might make mincemeat of making more marvellous marzipan and melon macaroons, mixed methodically in marinaded monkfish might move more muck than money. Maybe more men move more muck mainly mustering muscle to mow meadows momentarily making many manly machinations magnificently misogamous. Mauritanian master-bakers manipulating moving machinery may make mistakes, merrily mangling members making marmite mayonaise - 'M's favourite dressing & 'M&M' s' double-dollop defecation drops. Dee day then dancing dippy Doris with spots on. Gerald Giraffe Goofed. Geraldine gorilla gallivanted (shoving Aleister aside).
'Twas brillig. Monsieur Le Wiscarol jabbered whilst stroking his pint of Crowley's Slug Bait and picked bulls balls, devilled in Datura Nightshade (a yuppie aperitif). Rigor mortis stiffened, but declined to stand up. "Frankly, my dear, recumbent suits me," said the Butler rhetorically, winded with tomorrow, another day dawned. Slithy toves hit warp speed "och, cap'n she likes it, really - even Bonnie falling skies wouldn't stop the Auld Girrul now in Bucket, Hyacinth (pronounced 'bouquet')
'Twas brillig. Monsieur Le Wiscarol jabbered whilst stroking his pint of Crowley's Slug Bait and picked bulls balls, devilled in Datura Nightshade (a yuppie aperitif). Rigor mortis stiffened, but declined to stand up. "Frankly, my dear, recumbent suits me," said the Butler rhetorically, winded with tomorrow, another day dawned. Slithy toves hit warp speed "och, cap'n she likes it, really - even Bonnie falling skies wouldn't stop the Auld Girrul now in Bucket, Hyacinth (pronounced 'bouquet')
Suppose that this room is a lift. The support breaks and down we go with ever-increasing velocity.
Let us pass the time by performing physical experiments...
--- Arthur Eddington (creator of the Eddington Number).
Let us pass the time by performing physical experiments...
--- Arthur Eddington (creator of the Eddington Number).
Re: Three Word Story Game (again)
Daily Mail editor Nigel Molesworth took to umbrella the poisoned dart laced with precipitate was there ready. "Hack that, you Martian alien being!" "Being wot?" asked Paddington in Peruvian, juggling Seville oranges and cyanide syringes. It seemed that his marmalade tasted of bitter marzipan, marmite, mustard, mussels, margarine, maltezers, mango, and dog piddle. Maybe Monday might make mincemeat of making more marvellous marzipan and melon macaroons, mixed methodically in marinaded monkfish might move more muck than money. Maybe more men move more muck mainly mustering muscle to mow meadows momentarily making many manly machinations magnificently misogamous. Mauritanian master-bakers manipulating moving machinery may make mistakes, merrily mangling members making marmite mayonaise - 'M's favourite dressing & 'M&M' s' double-dollop defecation drops. Dee day then dancing dippy Doris with spots on. Gerald Giraffe Goofed. Geraldine gorilla gallivanted (shoving Aleister aside).
'Twas brillig. Monsieur Le Wiscarol jabbered whilst stroking his pint of Crowley's Slug Bait and picked bulls balls, devilled in Datura Nightshade (a yuppie aperitif). Rigor mortis stiffened, but declined to stand up. "Frankly, my dear, recumbent suits me," said the Butler rhetorically, winded with tomorrow, another day dawned. Slithy toves hit warp speed "och, cap'n she likes it, really - even Bonnie falling skies wouldn't stop the Auld Girrul now in Bucket, Hyacinth (pronounced 'bouquet'); anyway, she'll burst."
'Twas brillig. Monsieur Le Wiscarol jabbered whilst stroking his pint of Crowley's Slug Bait and picked bulls balls, devilled in Datura Nightshade (a yuppie aperitif). Rigor mortis stiffened, but declined to stand up. "Frankly, my dear, recumbent suits me," said the Butler rhetorically, winded with tomorrow, another day dawned. Slithy toves hit warp speed "och, cap'n she likes it, really - even Bonnie falling skies wouldn't stop the Auld Girrul now in Bucket, Hyacinth (pronounced 'bouquet'); anyway, she'll burst."
Have we got time for another cuppa?
-
- Posts: 11011
- Joined: 7 Jul 2014, 9:45pm
- Location: Near Bicester Oxon
Re: Three Word Story Game (again)
Daily Mail editor Nigel Molesworth took to umbrella the poisoned dart laced with precipitate was there ready. "Hack that, you Martian alien being!" "Being wot?" asked Paddington in Peruvian, juggling Seville oranges and cyanide syringes. It seemed that his marmalade tasted of bitter marzipan, marmite, mustard, mussels, margarine, maltezers, mango, and dog piddle. Maybe Monday might make mincemeat of making more marvellous marzipan and melon macaroons, mixed methodically in marinaded monkfish might move more muck than money. Maybe more men move more muck mainly mustering muscle to mow meadows momentarily making many manly machinations magnificently misogamous. Mauritanian master-bakers manipulating moving machinery may make mistakes, merrily mangling members making marmite mayonaise - 'M's favourite dressing & 'M&M' s' double-dollop defecation drops. Dee day then dancing dippy Doris with spots on. Gerald Giraffe Goofed. Geraldine gorilla gallivanted (shoving Aleister aside).
'Twas brillig. Monsieur Le Wiscarol jabbered whilst stroking his pint of Crowley's Slug Bait and picked bulls balls, devilled in Datura Nightshade (a yuppie aperitif). Rigor mortis stiffened, but declined to stand up. "Frankly, my dear, recumbent suits me," said the Butler rhetorically, winded with tomorrow, another day dawned. Slithy toves hit warp speed "och, cap'n she likes it, really - even Bonnie falling skies wouldn't stop the Auld Girrul now in Bucket, Hyacinth (pronounced 'bouquet'); anyway, she'll burst."
Acid trip over,
'Twas brillig. Monsieur Le Wiscarol jabbered whilst stroking his pint of Crowley's Slug Bait and picked bulls balls, devilled in Datura Nightshade (a yuppie aperitif). Rigor mortis stiffened, but declined to stand up. "Frankly, my dear, recumbent suits me," said the Butler rhetorically, winded with tomorrow, another day dawned. Slithy toves hit warp speed "och, cap'n she likes it, really - even Bonnie falling skies wouldn't stop the Auld Girrul now in Bucket, Hyacinth (pronounced 'bouquet'); anyway, she'll burst."
Acid trip over,
- NATURAL ANKLING
- Posts: 13780
- Joined: 24 Oct 2012, 10:43pm
- Location: English Riviera
Re: Three Word Story Game (again)
Daily Mail editor Nigel Molesworth took to umbrella the poisoned dart laced with precipitate was there ready. "Hack that, you Martian alien being!" "Being wot?" asked Paddington in Peruvian, juggling Seville oranges and cyanide syringes. It seemed that his marmalade tasted of bitter marzipan, marmite, mustard, mussels, margarine, maltezers, mango, and dog piddle. Maybe Monday might make mincemeat of making more marvellous marzipan and melon macaroons, mixed methodically in marinaded monkfish might move more muck than money. Maybe more men move more muck mainly mustering muscle to mow meadows momentarily making many manly machinations magnificently misogamous. Mauritanian master-bakers manipulating moving machinery may make mistakes, merrily mangling members making marmite mayonaise - 'M's favourite dressing & 'M&M' s' double-dollop defecation drops. Dee day then dancing dippy Doris with spots on. Gerald Giraffe Goofed. Geraldine gorilla gallivanted (shoving Aleister aside).
'Twas brillig. Monsieur Le Wiscarol jabbered whilst stroking his pint of Crowley's Slug Bait and picked bulls balls, devilled in Datura Nightshade (a yuppie aperitif). Rigor mortis stiffened, but declined to stand up. "Frankly, my dear, recumbent suits me," said the Butler rhetorically, winded with tomorrow, another day dawned. Slithy toves hit warp speed "och, cap'n she likes it, really - even Bonnie falling skies wouldn't stop the Auld Girrul now in Bucket, Hyacinth (pronounced 'bouquet'); anyway, she'll burst."
Acid trip over, marshmallows pink-n green
'Twas brillig. Monsieur Le Wiscarol jabbered whilst stroking his pint of Crowley's Slug Bait and picked bulls balls, devilled in Datura Nightshade (a yuppie aperitif). Rigor mortis stiffened, but declined to stand up. "Frankly, my dear, recumbent suits me," said the Butler rhetorically, winded with tomorrow, another day dawned. Slithy toves hit warp speed "och, cap'n she likes it, really - even Bonnie falling skies wouldn't stop the Auld Girrul now in Bucket, Hyacinth (pronounced 'bouquet'); anyway, she'll burst."
Acid trip over, marshmallows pink-n green
NA Thinks Just End 2 End Return + Bivvy - Some day Soon I hope
You'll Still Find Me At The Top Of A Hill
Please forgive the poor Grammar I blame it on my mobile and phat thinkers.
You'll Still Find Me At The Top Of A Hill
Please forgive the poor Grammar I blame it on my mobile and phat thinkers.
Re: Three Word Story Game (again)
Daily Mail editor Nigel Molesworth took to umbrella the poisoned dart laced with precipitate was there ready. "Hack that, you Martian alien being!" "Being wot?" asked Paddington in Peruvian, juggling Seville oranges and cyanide syringes. It seemed that his marmalade tasted of bitter marzipan, marmite, mustard, mussels, margarine, maltezers, mango, and dog piddle. Maybe Monday might make mincemeat of making more marvellous marzipan and melon macaroons, mixed methodically in marinaded monkfish might move more muck than money. Maybe more men move more muck mainly mustering muscle to mow meadows momentarily making many manly machinations magnificently misogamous. Mauritanian master-bakers manipulating moving machinery may make mistakes, merrily mangling members making marmite mayonaise - 'M's favourite dressing & 'M&M' s' double-dollop defecation drops. Dee day then dancing dippy Doris with spots on. Gerald Giraffe Goofed. Geraldine gorilla gallivanted (shoving Aleister aside).
'Twas brillig. Monsieur Le Wiscarol jabbered whilst stroking his pint of Crowley's Slug Bait and picked bulls balls, devilled in Datura Nightshade (a yuppie aperitif). Rigor mortis stiffened, but declined to stand up. "Frankly, my dear, recumbent suits me," said the Butler rhetorically, winded with tomorrow, another day dawned. Slithy toves hit warp speed "och, cap'n she likes it, really - even Bonnie falling skies wouldn't stop the Auld Girrul now in Bucket, Hyacinth (pronounced 'bouquet'); anyway, she'll burst."
Acid trip over, marshmallows pink-n green enveloped Lucy's diamonds
'Twas brillig. Monsieur Le Wiscarol jabbered whilst stroking his pint of Crowley's Slug Bait and picked bulls balls, devilled in Datura Nightshade (a yuppie aperitif). Rigor mortis stiffened, but declined to stand up. "Frankly, my dear, recumbent suits me," said the Butler rhetorically, winded with tomorrow, another day dawned. Slithy toves hit warp speed "och, cap'n she likes it, really - even Bonnie falling skies wouldn't stop the Auld Girrul now in Bucket, Hyacinth (pronounced 'bouquet'); anyway, she'll burst."
Acid trip over, marshmallows pink-n green enveloped Lucy's diamonds
Re: Three Word Story Game (again)
Daily Mail editor Nigel Molesworth took to umbrella the poisoned dart laced with precipitate was there ready. "Hack that, you Martian alien being!" "Being wot?" asked Paddington in Peruvian, juggling Seville oranges and cyanide syringes. It seemed that his marmalade tasted of bitter marzipan, marmite, mustard, mussels, margarine, maltezers, mango, and dog piddle. Maybe Monday might make mincemeat of making more marvellous marzipan and melon macaroons, mixed methodically in marinaded monkfish might move more muck than money. Maybe more men move more muck mainly mustering muscle to mow meadows momentarily making many manly machinations magnificently misogamous. Mauritanian master-bakers manipulating moving machinery may make mistakes, merrily mangling members making marmite mayonaise - 'M's favourite dressing & 'M&M' s' double-dollop defecation drops. Dee day then dancing dippy Doris with spots on. Gerald Giraffe Goofed. Geraldine gorilla gallivanted (shoving Aleister aside).
'Twas brillig. Monsieur Le Wiscarol jabbered whilst stroking his pint of Crowley's Slug Bait and picked bulls balls, devilled in Datura Nightshade (a yuppie aperitif). Rigor mortis stiffened, but declined to stand up. "Frankly, my dear, recumbent suits me," said the Butler rhetorically, winded with tomorrow, another day dawned. Slithy toves hit warp speed "och, cap'n she likes it, really - even Bonnie falling skies wouldn't stop the Auld Girrul now in Bucket, Hyacinth (pronounced 'bouquet'); anyway, she'll burst."
Acid trip over, marshmallows pink-n green enveloped Lucy's diamonds on her finger
'Twas brillig. Monsieur Le Wiscarol jabbered whilst stroking his pint of Crowley's Slug Bait and picked bulls balls, devilled in Datura Nightshade (a yuppie aperitif). Rigor mortis stiffened, but declined to stand up. "Frankly, my dear, recumbent suits me," said the Butler rhetorically, winded with tomorrow, another day dawned. Slithy toves hit warp speed "och, cap'n she likes it, really - even Bonnie falling skies wouldn't stop the Auld Girrul now in Bucket, Hyacinth (pronounced 'bouquet'); anyway, she'll burst."
Acid trip over, marshmallows pink-n green enveloped Lucy's diamonds on her finger
Mick F. Cornwall
- ferrit worrier
- Posts: 5503
- Joined: 27 Jun 2008, 7:58pm
- Location: south Manchester
Re: Three Word Story Game (again)
Daily Mail editor Nigel Molesworth took to umbrella the poisoned dart laced with precipitate was there ready. "Hack that, you Martian alien being!" "Being wot?" asked Paddington in Peruvian, juggling Seville oranges and cyanide syringes. It seemed that his marmalade tasted of bitter marzipan, marmite, mustard, mussels, margarine, maltezers, mango, and dog piddle. Maybe Monday might make mincemeat of making more marvellous marzipan and melon macaroons, mixed methodically in marinaded monkfish might move more muck than money. Maybe more men move more muck mainly mustering muscle to mow meadows momentarily making many manly machinations magnificently misogamous. Mauritanian master-bakers manipulating moving machinery may make mistakes, merrily mangling members making marmite mayonaise - 'M's favourite dressing & 'M&M' s' double-dollop defecation drops. Dee day then dancing dippy Doris with spots on. Gerald Giraffe Goofed. Geraldine gorilla gallivanted (shoving Aleister aside).
'Twas brillig. Monsieur Le Wiscarol jabbered whilst stroking his pint of Crowley's Slug Bait and picked bulls balls, devilled in Datura Nightshade (a yuppie aperitif). Rigor mortis stiffened, but declined to stand up. "Frankly, my dear, recumbent suits me," said the Butler rhetorically, winded with tomorrow, another day dawned. Slithy toves hit warp speed "och, cap'n she likes it, really - even Bonnie falling skies wouldn't stop the Auld Girrul now in Bucket, Hyacinth (pronounced 'bouquet'); anyway, she'll burst."
Acid trip over, marshmallows pink-n green enveloped Lucy's diamonds on her finger, in the sky
'Twas brillig. Monsieur Le Wiscarol jabbered whilst stroking his pint of Crowley's Slug Bait and picked bulls balls, devilled in Datura Nightshade (a yuppie aperitif). Rigor mortis stiffened, but declined to stand up. "Frankly, my dear, recumbent suits me," said the Butler rhetorically, winded with tomorrow, another day dawned. Slithy toves hit warp speed "och, cap'n she likes it, really - even Bonnie falling skies wouldn't stop the Auld Girrul now in Bucket, Hyacinth (pronounced 'bouquet'); anyway, she'll burst."
Acid trip over, marshmallows pink-n green enveloped Lucy's diamonds on her finger, in the sky
Percussive maintainance, if it don't fit, hit it with the hammer.
Re: Three Word Story Game (again)
Daily Mail editor Nigel Molesworth took to umbrella the poisoned dart laced with precipitate was there ready. "Hack that, you Martian alien being!" "Being wot?" asked Paddington in Peruvian, juggling Seville oranges and cyanide syringes. It seemed that his marmalade tasted of bitter marzipan, marmite, mustard, mussels, margarine, maltezers, mango, and dog piddle. Maybe Monday might make mincemeat of making more marvellous marzipan and melon macaroons, mixed methodically in marinaded monkfish might move more muck than money. Maybe more men move more muck mainly mustering muscle to mow meadows momentarily making many manly machinations magnificently misogamous. Mauritanian master-bakers manipulating moving machinery may make mistakes, merrily mangling members making marmite mayonaise - 'M's favourite dressing & 'M&M' s' double-dollop defecation drops. Dee day then dancing dippy Doris with spots on. Gerald Giraffe Goofed. Geraldine gorilla gallivanted (shoving Aleister aside).
'Twas brillig. Monsieur Le Wiscarol jabbered whilst stroking his pint of Crowley's Slug Bait and picked bulls balls, devilled in Datura Nightshade (a yuppie aperitif). Rigor mortis stiffened, but declined to stand up. "Frankly, my dear, recumbent suits me," said the Butler rhetorically, winded with tomorrow, another day dawned. Slithy toves hit warp speed "och, cap'n she likes it, really - even Bonnie falling skies wouldn't stop the Auld Girrul now in Bucket, Hyacinth (pronounced 'bouquet'); anyway, she'll burst."
Acid trip over, marshmallows pink-n green enveloped Lucy's diamonds on her finger, in the sky, like a tea-tray
'Twas brillig. Monsieur Le Wiscarol jabbered whilst stroking his pint of Crowley's Slug Bait and picked bulls balls, devilled in Datura Nightshade (a yuppie aperitif). Rigor mortis stiffened, but declined to stand up. "Frankly, my dear, recumbent suits me," said the Butler rhetorically, winded with tomorrow, another day dawned. Slithy toves hit warp speed "och, cap'n she likes it, really - even Bonnie falling skies wouldn't stop the Auld Girrul now in Bucket, Hyacinth (pronounced 'bouquet'); anyway, she'll burst."
Acid trip over, marshmallows pink-n green enveloped Lucy's diamonds on her finger, in the sky, like a tea-tray
Have we got time for another cuppa?
Re: Three Word Story Game (again)
'Twas brillig. Monsieur Le Wiscarol jabbered whilst stroking his pint of Crowley's Slug Bait and picked bulls balls, devilled in Datura Nightshade (a yuppie aperitif). Rigor mortis stiffened, but declined to stand up. "Frankly, my dear, recumbent suits me," said the Butler rhetorically, winded with tomorrow, another day dawned. Slithy toves hit warp speed "och, cap'n she likes it, really - even Bonnie falling skies wouldn't stop the Auld Girrul now in Bucket, Hyacinth (pronounced 'bouquet'); anyway, she'll burst."
Acid trip over, marshmallows pink-n green enveloped Lucy's diamonds on her finger, in the sky, like a tea-tray on the fly
Acid trip over, marshmallows pink-n green enveloped Lucy's diamonds on her finger, in the sky, like a tea-tray on the fly
“In some ways, it is easier to be a dissident, for then one is without responsibility.”
― Nelson Mandela, Long Walk to Freedom
― Nelson Mandela, Long Walk to Freedom
Re: Three Word Story Game (again)
[quote="Vorpal"]'Twas brillig. Monsieur Le Wiscarol jabbered whilst stroking his pint of Crowley's Slug Bait and picked bulls balls, devilled in Datura Nightshade (a yuppie aperitif). Rigor mortis stiffened, but declined to stand up. "Frankly, my dear, recumbent suits me," said the Butler rhetorically, winded with tomorrow, another day dawned. Slithy toves hit warp speed "och, cap'n she likes it, really - even Bonnie falling skies wouldn't stop the Auld Girrul now in Bucket, Hyacinth (pronounced 'bouquet'); anyway, she'll burst."
Acid trip over, marshmallows pink-n green enveloped Lucy's diamonds on her finger, in the sky, like a tea-tray on the fly. Four o'clock ninjas
Acid trip over, marshmallows pink-n green enveloped Lucy's diamonds on her finger, in the sky, like a tea-tray on the fly. Four o'clock ninjas
Have we got time for another cuppa?
Re: Three Word Story Game (again)
[quote="Vorpal"]'Twas brillig. Monsieur Le Wiscarol jabbered whilst stroking his pint of Crowley's Slug Bait and picked bulls balls, devilled in Datura Nightshade (a yuppie aperitif). Rigor mortis stiffened, but declined to stand up. "Frankly, my dear, recumbent suits me," said the Butler rhetorically, winded with tomorrow, another day dawned. Slithy toves hit warp speed "och, cap'n she likes it, really - even Bonnie falling skies wouldn't stop the Auld Girrul now in Bucket, Hyacinth (pronounced 'bouquet'); anyway, she'll burst."
Acid trip over, marshmallows pink-n green enveloped Lucy's diamonds on her finger, in the sky, like a tea-tray on the fly. Four o'clock ninjas, Mr Tambourine Man
Acid trip over, marshmallows pink-n green enveloped Lucy's diamonds on her finger, in the sky, like a tea-tray on the fly. Four o'clock ninjas, Mr Tambourine Man