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Post by PaulG2 on Jun 2, 2016 15:15:48 GMT
As Phil was making his way to the flight deck, he suddenly noticed a familiar green fog in the air and smelt a horrible, but familiar, smell. "Taff!" Phil exclaimed. "Come here boy."
Taff appeared from around the corner with, much to Phil's delight, a roll of duct tape in his mouth. "Duct tape," thought Phil, "with this tape in my arsenal, a faithful companion named Taff and this mighty space ship, I can rule the world!" Taff barked in agreement, and humped on Phil's leg just to further show his approval.
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Post by naughtyfox on Jun 4, 2016 13:42:37 GMT
"Oh dear," thought Emerald Fox... err... I mean.... NaughtyFox (no space) as he trotted along to the door of the Unsuitable Bar, "I'm only here because a couple of others said I should get in. I wonder if there'll be some free pints in it for me." After some greetings, and armed with a pint of Adnams 'Grumpy Bastard' - as Black Sheep is so common these days don'tchaknow dahlings - the fox ensconced himself in a corner of the tavern not very far away from the log fire which was spitting and sending 'soldiers' up the 15th Century chimney, and opened his map of Scandinavia and began scheming his next drive across Europe. Outside the Moon rose, shedding an eery light across the misty fens - and an owl hooted.
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Post by phil70 on Jun 4, 2016 14:13:28 GMT
Huh, really tsk tsk, the times I've told that owl about abusing the horn on that motor bike and sidecar, that's all owls seem to worry about, flying round countryside and hooting Phil decided that maybe the Coate Faerie might like to practice on the owl.
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Post by naughtyfox on Jun 4, 2016 15:34:36 GMT
"Listen, Phil," said the fox - and *whisper* *whisper* *whisper* "Goodnight All!" they cried with a cheery wave a slunk off into the darkness. The Moon had risen and was casting its eery light over the rising mists. (Yes, we've done that, get on with it! Ed.) The dastardly duo had gone round the back of the pub and found some large butterfly nets from the shed. Grasping two, they set off in pursuit of Hooting Owls. Later, in the wee hours of the morning, as the waning Moon was casting its light over the misty moonlit landscape, which was quite eery, with their nets full of Common Barn Owls, Short-Eared Owls, Tawny Owls and Little owls - and an albatross which the fox nabbed as it was rummaging for a meal in a skip - they tip-toed to the canal which was shrouded in... er... mist. "There!" said Emerald Fox, "That's the bugger!", and he pointed to the outline of a narrowboat, which emerged more clearly from the mist as they stealthily approached it. This was the boater that had gained a reputation for speeding past other boats and causing the occupants to spill hot afternoon tea into their laps and tip their creamy scones onto the floor. He was also known to shout "Fuck Off!" to those that shook their fists at him, and make tut-tuttings at his outlandish style. Smothering their chortling with one hand, the duo carefully picked the owls out of their nets and STUFFED THEM DOWN THE CHIMNEY!!! "Oi!" came a call and out of the bushes emerged an RSPCO (Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Owls) peak-capped oficial with his notepad and pencil, and the Dynamic Duo ran down the towpath as fast as their legs would carry them, to disappear into the mists which the setting Moon was still illuminating. In an eery sort of way. At the same moment the back doors of the boat were swung open, and spluttering and spitting feathers out of his mouth the bewildered, confused and furious errant boater popped out onto the deck and screamed:
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Post by peterboat on Jun 4, 2016 16:15:57 GMT
Meanwhile the real Phil in space very lost with Taff was making plans to escape back to earth if only John was here he thought I would be back there and no longer in the shit!! Taff was thinking similar things about Peter as well and when he got back those gurls were going to know all about!! He farted a green fart again which was dissolving all it touched, Phil stayed well out of range but a plan was forming using the farts to get back to earth
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Post by JohnV on Jun 4, 2016 17:47:42 GMT
Meanwhile in one of those strange remote villages in the fen lands
(you know the ones, full of strange looking people lurking around corners and if you go and try to find your way back, they can't be found)
John emerged from one of the odd cottages with a long heavy sack wrapped bundle on his shoulder, and trotted quickly off down the track "This is a 3 pounder" he muttered "now was that three pond of shot and one pound of black powder or one pound of shot and three pound of black powder" He stopped and looked back but there was no sign of the village, it had been swallowed up by thew fenland mists. "Oh Hell" muttered John "I suppose I'll just have to try it out" He sucked his teeth ( a disgusting habit he had picked up along with a few other, less mentionable from Peter) "If I load it up with one pound of shot and three pounds of black powder and try it out, if it's too much I'll just reduce it the next time"
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Post by PaulG2 on Jun 4, 2016 19:11:33 GMT
As John was walking under a bridge approaching the ThunderPunt, he noticed Paul sitting there puffing on his pipe. "G'day, mate!", said John, hoping to impress the refugee with his fluent Australian. John quickly filled Paul in on his plans for the powder and shot, and asked if he'd care to join in. Not to be linguistically outdone, Paul replied in Canadian, "You can count me in then, eh." They both lamented the fact that there were never any measuring sticks around when you need them, then ambled off down the road in search of Peter and ThunderPunt.
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Post by peterboat on Jun 5, 2016 23:01:32 GMT
Peter was still bemoaning the loss of Taff although the pint of Lemmonchello was making things better, when Paul and John came in with a big bag. !Do you know owt about cannons"? said Paul "Its just that we want to make a 3 pounder and wonder if its the ball or the powder?" said John "int it both" said Peter "3 pound of both sounds about right" Both Paul and John thought about it and then nodded in agreement. "Right then" said John "the workshop awaits" and off he went to the workshop, Paul however was sampling the Lemonchello and agreeing that the 66 year vintage was very nice indeed.....................
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Post by JohnV on Jun 6, 2016 6:43:13 GMT
"Cannon, cannon" muttered John as he staggered away with the punt gun "It's the bloody translation giving trouble again"
It wasn't long before he returned, staggering under the weight. "Right that's it loaded with three pounds of each, I suppose the next job is to test fire it" He carefully lowered the gun onto the occasional table which creaked slightly but held the weight, it gave John the evil eye which boded ill for later.
The occasional table and sundry items had escaped from THE unSTABLE BAR when one of the murderators had unlocked the door and peered in, checking that there were no posters being norty in secret
There was a rustling of flappy shorts and Phil arrived "What ho !" he chortled "My that's a big one, is it loaded?" his hand strayed towards the trigger "STOP !!!" screeched John "You can only fire it from a gun punt"................
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Post by peterboat on Jun 6, 2016 8:16:51 GMT
"Wheres Taff shouted Peter as he arrived from the punt bar "If you are here so should he" Phil however only had eyes for the punt gun! Peter told the table to move which it did taking the cannon with it! Phil and John looked on in amazement "whats going on with the table"? he said Its one of the live ones from the old bar Taff recognised it ages ago showed me it could move when he tried to widdle on it "Peter replied "Ohhhh" said Phil and John......................
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Post by PaulG2 on Jun 6, 2016 19:06:07 GMT
"Hold on there, Flappy." said Peter. Before we go shooting off this big punt gun, I want to know what has happened to Taff. Where's me dog?"
"It was the duct tape", said Phil. "Taff got a bit excited and got himself all wrapped up in duct tape and when I removed the tape it took a good bit of fur with it." Taff is around here somewhere, we were transported back together. I think he's just hiding in embarrassment."
With the Taff issue somewhat sorted, the lads returned to the big gun. "First things first," mused John. "Firing this big gun is thirsty work and we should have a few flagons of Lemonchello before we carry on." The men all sounded agreement and it was lemonchello and pickled squirrel nuts all around.
After a few rounds, no one was really keeping track how many, the lads decided their thirst was quenched enough that they could take on the task of firing the big gun. It was, after all, just a test fire. What could possibly go wrong?
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Post by phil70 on Jun 6, 2016 19:59:50 GMT
Will this end badly? yeah too right it will, Phil was bouncing off the walls with excitement, given his love of hammers and making noise (lots of it) Phil seemed the ideal candidate for firing the test shot. The boys all trooped outside followed by the Gravy Stained cat and a rather moth eaten Taff, they headed for the Thunder Punt and climbed aboard on the forepeak. The boys decided in the absence of any gun mount they would rely on brute strength, Phil still would not relinquish his grip on the gun and decided to adopt a prone position with his feet supporting the gun barrel. the boys were all worried in case Phil was not strong enough but Phil assured them it would be alright (is it ever)and he braced himself, confident in his own abilities. John was busy weighing out the powder " lets see thats two plus one for his knob plus a pinch or a good handful for good measure oh sod it I'll bung it all in" Paul took the shot and dropped it down the spout while Peter rammed it home with a threadbare mop.........all was ready. the boys all retired to the fallout shelter to watch on CCTV while Phil readied himself for the countdown. John called out over the Tannoy 5...4...3...2...1...FIRE!!!!! with that Phil pulled the trigger, a puff of smoke and a flash emerged from the pan then....KERBOOOOOOOOOM!!!!! The shot hurtled from the muzzle and sliced through everything in it's path, trees, canalside cottages, 2 pairs of lockgates before demolishing a bridge. The recoil saw to it that Phil disappeared swiftly in the opposite direction land in a smoking heap in the cut 200 yards behind the Thunder Punt. As a shocked silence fell John remarked " all things considered, that went quite well
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Post by JohnV on Jun 6, 2016 20:44:41 GMT
John handed Paul and Peter a seasearcher magnet and a roll of cord " I'll fire up the yoghurt pot and we'll go and fish the punt gun out of the cut and then we'll see if we can retrieve Phil" He shook his head "What ever happens we need to keep this out of Patty-Anns clutches, those two gurls are dangerous enough without WMDs"
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Post by peterboat on Jun 6, 2016 21:03:29 GMT
The Punt gun was destroyed the end of the barrel was like a trumpet! "I think it will straighten" said John, Paul and Peter gave each other knowing looks threw it in the bottom of the yogurt pot and went looking for Phil. Phil had come round his shorts were no where to be seen in fact he was as naked as the day he was born! He was wandering back to punt when the Gurls got him, in his dazed state he was in their evil clutches before you could blink an eye. "Well" said Peter, "he should be here look all these rags are his clothes, I tell you what we are going to have to put some stop planks in where those gates have vaporised so we will find him later." So in true top gear fashion they wandered off to do something else, leaving only Taff to be concerned as his keen nose smelt trouble with a capital G.....................
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Post by PaulG2 on Jun 6, 2016 22:11:25 GMT
Patty-Ann sat on the steps of the locked and shuttered Unstable Bar and sighed deeply as she reminisced about the good times that had been had there. all the while adjusting the noose around Phil's scrotum. Patty-Ann always liked the Unstable Bar, and she just wasn't sure she was ready to go over to another pub.The moderators mostly picked on the boyz anyway, she rationalized to herself.
Phil's cries of pain brought her back to reality. "It certainly was convenient for you to wander up here naked." said Patty-Ann. "I was wondering what body part to hang you by. We had just got our rental boat back here and it was in the lock when you fired the punt gun. The boat was vaporized you lizard head. Now we'll never get our deposit back!"
"Lizard head", thought Phil. "My head isn't pointed, is it?" A sudden jerk on the noose rope brought Phil back to the more pressing matters at hand.
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