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I was sailing over christmas and it was lovely, drifting and darting about hither and tither through the inlets and watery areas. The wind whistling through my eyebrows and the majestic splashing of wave upon wave as I skimmed across the surface, made me feel like a lithe salty albatross.
No lithe
salty albatrosses to be found anywhere, my mind drifted to fondue. How delightful a bubbling pot of it would be, right there next to me on the stern as I steered about, dipping prawns, calamari rings, or small pieces of bread into it with my cutlass, the melted cheese spattering against my eye patch, my parrot screeching out as we approach the merchant vessel . .
then the man on the shore called out on his loudspeaker that it was time for me to come in.
[link]
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"99, your time is up. Come in please." ...."99, come back please." |
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"...er, we don't have a 99 boat skipper..." |
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"Aw shit, [benfrost] has capsized 66 again with that damned cheese cauldron.." |
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dare I look? <peeks between fingers> |
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Don't worry [po] - hard to believe, but it's a [benfrost] idea about sailors and fondue with no 'seamen' puns. |
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What is the invention here? A gimbled fondue pot? If it is, then you'll get my croiss... |
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I paticularly like the image of precarious pot of boiling cheese sliding about on the deck of a ship during a gale. |
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"lithe salty albatross" - lovely. |
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Wish I could just sail over Christmas but it always seems to keelhaul me. |
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The real thing to do is a clam bake - dig a hole in the sand, line it with rocks, burn a fire in it until the rocks are hot, line them with seaweed, then add potatoes, unhusked corn, clams, lobsters*, and more seaweed. Throw a tarp over the top and when you're done sailing, you'll have an excellent meal waiting for you and your friends. |
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*I guess for Christmas, you could throw a couple of elves in too. |
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