Posts Tagged ‘miriam’

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Mutual Despair.

April 23, 2013

The harshest times can bring the greatest of enemies together. It was something Terry the mountain goat had seen scrawled on a napkin one time when he was drunk. In fact, he might have been the one that had written it. He couldn’t remember.

Regardless, one baffling summer, the words rung true for him.

Tiddles the cat was in a foul mood as always. It was mid July, and his name was still Tiddles. All the other cats relentlessly took the piss out of him for his stupid name.

“Tiddles!? That’s a right shit name!” they would say, inventively.

Tiddles knew he had a right shit name, but he hoped one day that he would wake up and be called ‘Dave’, or ‘Hansel’, or ‘Hulk Hogan’. Something ace like that. But today never seemed to be that day, and he secretly knew neither would tomorrow. So Tiddles was frequently super cheesed off about everything.

He hated all things, he even hated your face.

It should be noted that in the future it will snow in Summer, because the weather is already getting pretty messed up nowadays, so it can be assumed that nothing will make sense in about 20 years or so (that’s science). It should also be noted that this story takes place in the future.

It was a snowy summer day when Tiddles bumped into Terry. Terry had fallen out with his wife over whether or not they should tape Catchphrase. He was very upset because he had inevitably lost the dispute and would miss this week’s episode, so he had stepped outside to have a cry.

Tiddles was enraged.

“What are you doing crying out here again?! You stupid goat-sheep-man!” Tiddles had met Terry last week under similar circumstances and immediately decided that they should be Ultimate Enemies for no particular reason.

“Sh-she won’t let me tape Catchphrase! It’s a new series and I just want to see what it’s like!” Terry sniffled, a single tear descended down his cheek.

“I don’t care!” Tiddles screamed, “I’m called Tiddles! Do you know how that feels?! I have a stupid name!!”

They sobbed together for hours, all the pain and despair they felt about their respective predicaments howled through their bones and out into the crispy summer air.

Then suddenly, they stopped. Terry looked at Tiddles. Tiddles looked at Terry.

“Tiddles, I just remembered, I have magic horns. If you touch my horn and wish for a different name, it will be so.”

“You’d do that for me?” Tiddles’ face lit up. “Come to think of it, I have a VCR at my house, you can come ’round and tape Catchphrase there!”

And so, Tiddles (later to be renamed Hulk Hogan) jumped on Terry’s back and directed him to his home where they taped Catchphrase, and everyone was shockingly happy in the end.

To my house!

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Thanks to Miriam for the image. I do not know where you found it.

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The Climbing King of Hamstoria.

January 12, 2012

That good old Review of the Year easy update I was planning isn’t working. So I’m going to have to bloody write something new by the looks of things… Are you ready? The first excellent post of 2012 is below. Let’s do this.

The King of Hamstonia was an adventurous sort of monarch. His favourite adventurous thing to do was to climb things. He climbed up mountains, onto pterodactyls, and once, into space (it was a long climb, that one, he had to stop for jam sandwiches half way).

The hamsters of Hamstoria didn’t really mind their king sneaking off to climb things, because when he was away they all had secret karaoke parties in the castle, which was always nice.

One day, the King was out and about doing his adventuring, when he saw a cat. He had never climbed a cat before, and he felt an overpowering need to clamber up its wiry fur. Not being much for self restraint, he rushed over and began leaping up the creature’s back without a second thought, eventually finding his monarchy self atop the feline’s head.

This angered the cat, as it distracted him from looking at a nearby red shoe.

‘Get off me, or I shall punch you,’ the cat whispered, still trying to focus on the red shoe.

‘No! I am the King of Hamstoria!’ The King of Hamstoria correctly asserted.

At this, the cat flew into a rage and punched the King right in the nose, sending him flying into space (where he stopped for a jam sandwich), and then back down to his castle. It was a very well aimed punch.

The King shook off the dizziness that now assailed him as he pulled himself to his feet. His blurred vision suddenly became clear, and he realised he was in his throne room, and all his subjects were there, and there was a microphone in his paw. He had landed in the middle of a karaoke party in his castle. His subjects stared at him, slack-jawed. The King stared back. Nobody knew what to do. It was a difficult situation.

A spokesperson stepped out from the crowd of subjects to break the awkward silence. He looked into his kings vacant eyes.

‘Um… Happy birthday?’

‘… how did you know?’ A smile spread across the King’s face.

And so everyone karaoked their tits off all night long.

Thanks to Miriam for the picture, who got it from here.

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Drunken humiliation.

September 7, 2010

Alfie and Bill were really, really drunk.

It was Alfie’s stag do, and he was so drunk that he had forgotten he was getting married. Bill was so drunk that he had forgotten to remind him, he wasn’t even sure how old he was any more, or where he lived, or whether he was born with feet or not.

As the clock struck 3am they found themselves in an argument with a pair of bees. The bees were really hard because they had grown up on ‘the streets’, and were ‘not taking no shit from a couple of poncey dogs.’

They next thing they knew Alfie and Bill were being thrown about outside, and then they were dressed in bee suits, and then a photo of them in bee suits was being posted on Facebook via somebody’s phone.

It was this photo:

It was very embarrassing for them both, but luckily Alfie’s wife never found out, otherwise she would have really taken the piss.

Thanks to Miriam for inadvertently sending me this image, and getting it from here.