RAIDERS OF THE LOST BARSE


STARRING


JONNYBOY "MORNING CYRIL" NENDICK

AND

SAMMYBOY "AFTERNOON BERNARD" ROSSITER

THE WAIT IS OVER... BADGERFEST IS BACK!


Okay hurns, this is the definite ploy hurn of the hurn ploy with extra pink spanking paper to match.

Due to the insane amount of boolax spewing forth from the sinister minds of Tart and co, Sammyboy and I are going to redress the balance by making this the most fecked in the napper type ploy ever! You have been pawned - I got 50p for you.
You have also been prawned, porned and, most importantly, warned.

No bags today Gladys, they make me jump off bridges. Oh... naughty bags.

Hi, my name's Frank, give Jim a doughnut.

Oh no, I have just been twatted about the bicycles with a custard sponge full of custard sponge!

I was wondering about where to put my submersible extractor fan plunger, when suddenly I realised that there was no need! All my extractor fans were well and truly plunged. All's well that slaps arse, I say.

How to make Rice Pudding:

Ingredients:
500g Rice
12kg Pudding
3g Malcolm
1/2 kilometre used saxophones

Mix the rice and the saxophones in a large satellite dish. When you have beaten all the lumps, add Malcolm and whisk until frozen with a tuning fork (preferably B flat). Pour the mixture down a chimney and add the mayonnaise and pilchards (optional). When smoke begins to come out of the nearest tree, pop down to your local newsagent for a curry and shoot your grandmother (this should take 10-15 minutes). Serve up on a bed of lettuce, and top it
off with some mouldy slippers. And Barry is your father's cat's wife's pyjamas.

We can't stop here... this is bat country! Or if you're french... cat buntry!

The A-team guide to making a large tank out of household items:
Hannibal: Ok guys... lets get to work.
B.A.: I ain't gettin' on no plane fool!
Hannibal: I didn't say anything about a plane you twat. Now put your knickers on and make me a cup of tea.
Face: Hey guys, I've found some sellotape, a bent copy of Cliff Richard's cat, a spoon, your mum, a badger, half a pound of feck, three dildos, two nuns and a partridge with a very large arse. Oh and a duck.
Murdoch: WAAAHHHHH!!!! Blibble blibble... we can, like, eat some sweetcorn and buy some second hand inflatable dog piranha shoe fish. Or something.
B.A.: I ain't gettin' on no 7:20 to Kings Cross fool!
Hannibal: B.A. get in the van and shut up until I tell you to trim next door's muff.
Face: Ok, I've sellotaped it all together, lets see if it works.
Murdoch: I've got the poison, I've got the remedy, I've got some very nice trousers from Homebase.
Hannibal: What?
Face: I'll light the fuse man...
B.A.: I ain't gettin' on no World War II submarine fool!
Hannibal: WHAT?
KABOOOMMM!!!!
B.A.: Rollocks.
Hannibal: Sod this, anyone fancy a pint?

P.s. Hannibal: I love it when a flan's made of feather.

Yesterday I went into the local Badger Bistro and ordered a plate of filleted hammerhead shark (they don't just do badgers). I was immediately suspicious when they wheeled in a plate of what looked like deep fried perambulators. I tested my theory using my Laser Ablation Plasma Source Mass Spectrometer (or BADGER for short). Indeedly doodly I was proved half correct when it turned out that the mess on my plate was in fact a collection of elephant
nostrils. BADGERS: they're faaannntastic!

I love when B.A eats some spam.

Schlappercheyne!

Ohbi joe, fang mcfoe, there ya go, bo!

Who is this Fang McSprang you talk of? It must be something to do with the increased circulation of trombones in my left kidney.

Get your freshly eaten nuns from Nuneaton, the only place for ready-eaten nuns! The best thing since sliced monks!

Curse! I forgot about the long-eared sharks! We must try to repel them using an elephant boot protractor! Only then shall I be crowned Lord King Alfred the second part two of the first number you thought of Queen Jimbob your mum and Charles Duke of Broccolli. Or Geoff for short.

All we hear is... Radio ga ga...Radio goo goo...
Well in that case your radio must be bollocksed up the arse! Give it a slap!
Either that or you are listening to Baby Radio 103.7fm, I hear the new Dj is a gerbil with a moustache.

One, two, buckle my stew. Three, four, swallow the floor. (Or buy us a door)
Five, nine, slap some feck. Twenty five thousand, six, knock the living piss out of some random tosspiece.

Ah well done little filthy fool, you have succeeded in the 1992/7 little filthy fool awards by winning the award for being a hairy monkey. Nice one geezaaaa!!!

Ach Herr Geoffrey! Die fangen fingen fungen ist dans le boot avec ein picture de Colonel Batfinkmeister. Go get it man!
Colonel Batfinkmeister! With the wings of jelly! And his sidekick Mount St Helens!

She's a killer spleeeeen, made out of jelly beans, dynamite with a can of cream, guaranteed to blow your goat. Anytime.

flob.

Eastenders episode:

Pat: Frank!
Frank: I luv you Pat.
Peggy: Frank!
Frank: Phil!
Phil: Mo!
Mo: Arse!
Arse: Bianca!
Bianca: Ricky!
Ricky: Peggy!
Peggy: Where are you going?
Grant: Out.
Mark: What's goin' on?

THE END.

Have you ever noticed, that no matter how quickly you run for a bus, there will always be some bastard in Poland smoking large penguins.

Us: Baa baa black sheep have you any chips?
Sheep: No. Now hop it the lot of you.

Come on. Own up. Who wants me to shoot them in the knee with a spatula?

Neighbours episode:

Toadfish: G'day mate.
Froghaddock: G'day Sheila.
Newtpilchard: Strewth mate.
Paul: Jeez!
Tad: Arse!
Harold: You're a dag and a cobber and you must have rocks in your head.
Madge: Strewth!
B.A.: Fool!
Hannibal: G'day!
Peggy: Frank!
Frank: Felicity!
Felicity: Miaow.
Karl: Have I missed something?
Prince Charles: Twat.

All the three's... two hundred and twenty twelve point thrun.

I shall now re-enact the Battle of Britain using a slice of cheddar, three dustbins and a tortoise. Clip-clop, clip-clop, BANG! Fudge.

Drew's first day at work:

Boss: Make us a cup of tea Drew.
Drew: But boss, that means I'll have to power down the national grid, set fire to the building and shoot you in the head!
Boss: Thats ok Drew. You can still keep your job.
Drew: Haha! Once again I manage to act like a complete twat and get away with it! Spoons, matron!

It is a little known fact, that if you combine fried turnips, hydrochloric acid and spaghetti, you immediately make several monkeys in North West Mexico do the Foxtrot.

You can't have a marathon around a potato! The logistics are ridiclarath.

I tell you I'm not gay! I just like quiche.

Strewth mate, what are you? Some kinda flamin' nostril burger?

Yesterday, the spink spank spunked the creen in the frutters, how kev is that?

Now for my version of Tart's plagiarised poem:

The patient's vest extentions have sadly farted. Despite his newly installed, varnished badger, and being force-fed gallons of reinforced franking machines, he is determined to spank the new phone grinder's trophy. He dreams of becoming Bernard the Knobhead.
Quite frankly i'm sickened to have this tosspiece feck my napper in. He talks of soapy giraffes hunting his pet canary as Mr Spock shits chicks, and a lime speeds by disguised as a neon lemon. Massive fingernails? Not on your nelly. I fear for my sanitary towels. I am surrounded by hoons, twats, punks, Bernards and Mildred. I insist we barter with your mum to sell the patients cohesive mystical baps in exchange for a television with a digital
box. Stricken with beef, I have no choice but to turn to lethal foxes.

I too admire your way with chickens, but surely they should be facing east while you do that?

Big up to the Lyme Regis massive... inna area... biggety bong... those crazy madcap kranky lanky manky spanky spoonheads.

You what? Eye Arse!

Twelve men went to mow, went to mow a meadow, three men five men twenty twelve men six men four and a half men and their cat...went to feck your mother.

ALAS, THAT IS ALL I FEAR... SO UNTIL NEXT TIME WE GRACE YOUR COMPUTER SCRATHS, ARRIVERDERCI AND BON SOYA...

BY THE WAY, JAMMYPLOY HEREBY FULLY RECLAIMS ITS INSANITY CROWN FROM ANY PRETENDERS TO THE THRONE... ARSE!

from
JAMMYPLOY

p.s. LOOK BEHIND YOU THERE'S AN ELEPHANT ABOUT TO DO A REVERSIBLE FANDANGO WITH A TWIST ON YOUR MUM'S PRIZE MONGOLIAN PIG-CHILDREN!
OH... NO WAIT... IT'S JUST A BADGER.