h a l f b a k e r yBreakfast of runners-up.
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"Honey, the reverse Christmas carolers are here, go get
Amy and Bobby!"
"Mommy I'm scared!"
"Don't be scared Timmy..."
"Bobby."
"Whatever, don't be
scared, just sing and they'll go away."
"Uhhm, we WHHHISH YOU A..."
"Dat's Wish You A Merry Christmas, we was wantin' Silent
Night.
You do know the words to Silent Night don't yaz?"
"Ohh ohh, sorry, yes of course ah hm... Siiiilent"
"WITH FEELIN'!"
"SORRY SORRY! Siii-iilent... niiiight.... hoooooly..."
[link]
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This could be the start of something big, [doc]. I'm imagining
"reverse Jehovah's witnesses" and, best of all "reverse charity
collections". [+] |
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Thank you Max, I was rather fond of this one. |
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Not sure why I threw the menacing characters into the skit.
Got bored I guess. Watched too much Monty Python growing
up. |
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Well, regular carollers can be pretty intimidating. Round
here, if you're not quick with the boiling oil, they have no
hesitation of launching into "The Four Hundred and Seventeen
Days of Christmas". |
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We could also use this approach to deal with trick-or-treaters.
All the adults in the village could go and pound on the doors
of families with small children, demanding sweets. |
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No, [Max], no, no, no. You'd yell "Trick or treat!", get the response "HAHA!
Trick!" and then you've got to figure out what to do with the kid. |
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Well, there's usually some boiling oil left over. |
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You ask that of a scion of the Clan Buchanan, a family with a dark and sordid record of disposing of inconvenient corpses going back centuries, who practically invented the term "oubliette", and for whom "dungeon" and "guest accommodation " are practically synonymous ? |
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The vast gardens and extensive grounds are kept in their state of luxurience by liberal* application of a special home-made NPK fertilizer, which seems to be available in unlimited quantities. The source is somewhat mysterious; several people who have enquired into the details have unnacountably disappeared without trace. |
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*We hasten to add that the adjective "liberal" is used here in its purely technical sense. |
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We prefer the term "dynasty" over "clan", to be honest. It's
not that we're not immensely proud of our Scottish ancestry,
but we wouldn't want people to think we had any Scots genes. |
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Which reminds me, how's your family tree-tracing going?
Have you managed to go back any further than Ernst
Thövseven? |
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Is this the equivalent of my anti-bible bashing door
knockers spiel? |
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One involves excusing myself to have a muffled yet audible
conversation with someone inside the flat who they can't
hear where I'm apparently advised that John forgot the
chicken 'again' but the pentagrams warmed up & ready to
go at which point (having advised my unheard companion I
may have an alternative to the chicken on hand) I duck my
head back around the door & ask 'I don't suppose you'd care
to come in for a cup of tea while we chat about this?' |
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The other is where you tell them "I'm not interested, but
my
boss is & he just happens to be here, 'I'll just go get him"
popping back into the hall, stripping bollock naked &
putting on the goat head mask kept for this eventuality
then
stepping back out declaiming in one's best sepulchral
tones
"Yes! can I help you" |
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