It shocks me how many people don’t know what Who’s Line is it Anyway? is. Broken Britain.
@stickywhitedovepiss can you play a part or do you have to remain outside it? If you can, I nominate you for @stickywhitedovepiss , a timid, meak Librarian-type on the outside, but whenever anyone mentions Shakin Stevens she becomes extremely sexually aroused. She spends her free time in front of the gramaphone with a glass of Campari and soda, listening to the great man until she gets so worked up that she visits local dogging spots in fishnets and a Mexican wrestler mask. One of these dogging spots is the car park of Runymede Lodge, which is where she gets tangled up in this unusual quest.
I should mention that she also has a tattoo on her left thigh, which she woke up with following a misadventure in Thailand in her youth. The tattoo is of a washing machine (Indesit 500), with some unusual Thai script underneath - could this script be the key to the puzzle? Probably not, more likely it says “I love fisting” in Thai, but we can’t be sure at this early stage…
Narwhal could just make out the side entrance to the lodge. A green door half hidden by wisteria.
He glanced at the oversized Navitimer (a gift from @philippinesaint , the wife of some weird internet bullshitter he had been tupping the previous summer) and decided to wait for darkness to fall.
“I’ll hide here and watch that fat lass getting boned in that fiesta while I’m waiting” he giggled to himself maniacally.
“Then I’ll have a good look round this ole house and find out what’s got my loins so tingly.”
Splendid work, gentlemen - I particularly like the way that Caractacus Narwhal has incorporated Shakin’ Stevens into his persona. Just one small request though:
@undefined was confused. What had started out as a simple quest to discover the last resting place of the mystical Unicorns of SWF had taken an unusual turn.
The sudden appearance of a @undefined off the port bow of The Enterpise had turned to terror as a @undefined boarding party materialised out of a bowl of Petunias on the Starboard Bow.
As @undefined battled to save the saucer section @undefined had hit the emergency teleport over ride switch.
And materialised in the velvet he’ll of a Bordello on old Portabello Road covered in @undefined .
Crushed beneath his ample buttocks appeared to be a @undefined with an empty jar of pickle still intactly jutting from his anus.
Just then a mobile communicating device started to vibrate in the crotch if a supine @undefined
I can’t work under these conditions, my crew can’t work under these conditions. Where are our aliases, where are our sandwiches. WTF IS THIS. Where is the positivity? Where does planning get you on an oil platform? What do I tell my heroic guys. FFS. We will manage, in spite of this.
It gets you a nice pretty spread sheet that management love, but is out of date as soon as the first spanner is turned and should then be screwed up and thrown away.
