h a l f b a k e r yA dish best served not.
add, search, annotate, link, view, overview, recent, by name, random
news, help, about, links, report a problem
browse anonymously,
or get an account
and write.
register,
|
|
|
Please log in.
Before you can vote, you need to register.
Please log in or create an account.
|
Farmer Giles' sows were concerned. They trusted the farmer, because he fed them every day, and kept them warm, and because he spoke to them kindly. He even confided in them, often muttering about his wife's shortcomings and his hopes for next year's harvest as he scattered hay through their sty.
But
something was bothering them. Ever since Farmer Giles had installed that small black box in the corner of their sty, they'd had the uncomfortable feeling that they were being watched. Still, they figured, even Gloucester Old Spots are entitled to occasional bouts of paranoia.
If only they knew the truth. Strapped for cash because of changes to EU's grant policies and the aftermath of the foot and mouth crisis, Farmer Giles had done a terrible thing. When that bright young thing from the city had come to visit him, he should have emptied one shotgun barrel in the direction of his Gucci-clad derriere, and sent him on his way. But the lure of £500 a month was too much.
So the web cam was installed in bertie and bertha's sty. Every two minutes, it captured an image which was transmitted to some trendy betting website. City folk would log on, and bet on his pigs against two pigs in Yorkshire, who had a webcam in their sty too.
It was all beyond Giles, but apparently the camera would capture the pigs in a certain position, and the stock-brokers, solicitors, and accountants would sit at home counting up point for each position. Farmer Giles didn't see why they couldn't stick to the original game, with the miniature plastic pigs... but heck, he just didn't understand these modern times at all.
Play Pass the Pigs!
http://www.captainj...gs/PassThePigs.html
Here's a Java version [Fishrat, Oct 05 2004]
looks the same. lost my very 1st game of pass the porkers.
http://www.fontface.com/games/pigs/
[po, Oct 05 2004]
pig brother.
http://www.reuters....815351§ion=news
unfortunately I cannot open the webcam itself. [po, Oct 05 2004]
[link]
|
| |
real pigs do more interesting things, like eating and smiling and grunting and such like. |
|
| |
I swear those pigs are loaded... |
|
| |
//Animal Farm meets 1984.// |
|
| |
Big Brother is watching you. From the porch. |
|
| |
But that "impossible" roll (one on top of the other) is going to occur with some frequency. |
|
| |
True, but the odds on a double leaning jowler must decrease, surely? |
|
| |
By the way, [DrC], the impossible roll is called "making bacon". |
|
| |
Modernized game... check.
Broadcasting scheme ... check.
Vegas, Tokyo, London ... check.
Croissant from 'fort ... check.
|
|
| |
Well, all this seems to be in order ... |
|
| |
I wonder if gambling on your neighbors pigs is kosher? |
|
| |
Can't believe anyone could vote against pass the pigs! Philistines, all three of you! Corrupted by Top Trumps, Ludo, or the Garbage Pail Kids at an early age. Pah! |
|
| |
What a great game. 2 corncobs for you + |
|
| |
It was always a chocolate digestive in my house, po... but maybe a bacon sandwich would be appropriate for UB's BabeCam. |
|
| |
this game would be great as jelly baby porkers. eat the babe. |
|
| |
po, are you just trying to upset [Baker^-1]? |
|
| |
I think Fishrat interpreted your comment as "Eat the Babe"... |
|
| |
"Still, they figured, even Gloucester Old Spots are entitled to occasional bouts of paranoia" |
|
| |
I once went to Gloucester to meet a good friend of mine. The weather was typically British, with bright sunshine but rain coming from apparently non-existant clouds. The weathermen had forecasted sun for the whole country but as usual this was a half-hearted, empty promise. Of course I had immediately thought this as I watched the weather report while eating my breakfast that morning. I had a bowl of cereal covered in some full-fat milk. Crunchy nut clusters truly are a God of cereals. They remain curnchy even when doused in milk, and they're sweet and tasty to boot. I had considered buying the more traditional variety of Crunchy nut cornflakes while shopping in Sainsburys the previous Friday, but I was feeling adventurous and dared to try something new, which was unusual for me as I usually tend to stick with what I'm sure of. I suppose that dates back to when I was a child, when I did something stupid I'd never done before, resulting in the loss of 2 toes. Ever since then I've walked with something of a limp, which draws attention from passers-by on many occasions, in the form of vacant stares at my foot and random friviolous abuse from townies. Townies really are scum. Why on earth the government can't do something about them I don't know. They deal out all my tax money to them in the form of dole payments, so they get my hard earned money for doing fuck all. I'm in quite a high tax bracket too, earning £75k per year at a major accountancy firm. People say accountants are boring people who tend to ramble on incoherently about nothing, but I could give you approximately 7 good examples from recent events in my life that blast that theory clean out of the water. For instance, my friend Geoffery.. well, not really a friend, more of an acquiantance.. well, co-worker I suppose, considering he has worked at the desk next to me for 13 years. He started off as a delivery boy until the boss discovered his ability to calculate prices very quickly, or something. Either way it was because of his quick skills with numbers that lead to him getting the job. I remember because it was an unusually warm day in February one year. The weather forecasters had predicted snow and I was expectant, wearing gloves and a scarf, but alas I was disappointed. Oh what a fool I looked walking down Portland road in full winter clothes as people plodded past in shorts and t-shirts. One man yelled a particularly cutting remark at me regarding my attire. I don't remember it exactly, but I do remember he was a street vendor trying to palm off some rotten turnips on me. I responded to him with a critcism of his manner to complete strangers, and we stood there arguing for a good 10 minutes. I can't remember what I did exactly, but at some point therein he turned it around completely and made me believe his point, at which point he offered me the turnips to shut up. So in conclusion, I guess he won the argument, but I walked away with the turnips. |
|
| |
The following morning I resigned my commission with the coastguard. The next thing I knew there was civil war in Spain... |
|
| |
Sorry couldn't resist responding to [NTG], in other news - top idea! + |
|
| |