On the Eve

Here's my take on the activities of three unnamed posters once the Daily Mail comes right out with and demands a Civil War because its a hung parliament .

In the extreme North beyond the wall, a woman and her clan are sat crossed leg listening to their Chieftain reading out the latest antics of the Bruins, as he stands on the Stone of Scone.
All assembled know that as soon as the red coats at a nearby Butlins are in their beds, the tone will be lower but the blood higher. As they will huddle close as they discuss how to beat 'Heavy Horse' Despite the extreme likelihood of them having to face Apache helicopters.

In Huddersfield all like minded folk have gathered from across Yorkshire following the prophecy that a 'Right Good Lad' will lead them to 'Right Good Times'. Sadly, their hero arrives wearing a very tight Round Heads helmet and at first the crowd grow angry due to the helmets link with Parliamentarians!

But our hero explains that no hat maker in Yorkshire would have anything to do with making a fancy hat for a bloody man for god knows how much? So, a metal helmet was made for half the price and will last ten times longer, the crowd roar and our hero is taken shoulder high to Greggs.

Meanwhile on the Spanish / Gibraltar border a certain cartoonist is sat at a table and parasol combo sipping a cocktail and waiting to see which way the wind blows so as to what to draw next?.
His smile belays the fact that he has an Irish passport in the pocket of his Hawaiian shirt in the name of Paddy O Beaky.

I must say you've been very subtle,I can't imagine who you could be talking about.

Thanks John however when Australians call something 'Subtle' the hairs on the back of my neck tend to shoot into my collar.

In conversation here they all say "yes,no"
That's quite subtle,I think.

I would go to Australia just to see Steve Hughes I think he's brilliant.

They were actually taking me shoulder high to the river Calder.

Meanwhile, in Liverpool, a poster with an uncanny resemblance to the late Leonard Rossiter buttons up his moth-eaten cardigan and taps away at his World War 2 typewriter.
"This satirical piece will show those fools of Brexiteers what's what!" he chuckles. "Now to pin hundreds of photocopies to all the telegraph poles of the neighbourhood!"
At that moment a discordant cry disturbs the calm of the sleepy street.
"Liverpool! Liverpool!"
A group of football fans are walking past the poster's house - a house where the very colour red is forbidden, where Santa appears in a blue outfit, and tomatoes are painted green. The poster nearly chokes with rage.
"Blackguards and ne'erdowells!" He shouts, "You dare to pollute Everton Close with your foul slogans? Take that!"
The heavy typewriter crashes through the window in a shower of glass, landing in the flower bed and crushing the poster's prized Petunias. The Liverpool hooligans carry on up the road, oblivious of the drama taking place.
"Brexit! Brexit!" They bellow, their plebeian features contorted in mindless rage.
Our poster holds his head in his hands.
"What have I done?" He sobs.

Meanwhile in a North western town a man on the street is being offered a Rolex watch by a scouser.
He is suspicious as the seller is out of breath.

Haha! Bastard.

Ste never buy a watch off a lad who is out of breath as its probably a phoney he bought in Turkey for a tenner and be cause he is out of breath the buyer assumes its stolen rather than fake, don't ask me how I know this

Quote: Teddy Paddalack @ 1st November 2019, 6:09 PM

Here's my take on the activities of three unnamed posters once the Daily Mail comes right out with and demands a Civil War because its a hung parliament .

In the extreme North beyond the wall, a woman and her clan are sat crossed leg listening to their Chieftain reading out the latest antics of the Bruins, as he stands on the Stone of Scone.
All assembled know that as soon as the red coats at a nearby Butlins are in their beds, the tone will be lower but the blood higher. As they will huddle close as they discuss how to beat 'Heavy Horse' Despite the extreme likelihood of them having to face Apache helicopters.

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BROONS! BROONS! It's the BROONS! But enough time wasting- I must get back to my Sunday Post.

Quote: Briosaid @ 3rd November 2019, 2:20 PM

BROONS! BROONS! It's the BROONS! But enough time wasting- I must get back to my Sunday Post.

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You mean you don't read the Mail on Sunday?

Quote: Chappers @ 3rd November 2019, 9:36 PM

You mean you don't read the Mail on Sunday?

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Snarl! Very loudly!

Quote: Briosaid @ 3rd November 2019, 2:20 PM

BROONS! BROONS! It's the BROONS! But enough time wasting- I must get back to my Sunday Post.

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By the way, Teddy, if you can get the Sunday Post in Leeds (as I remember you could) I'll bet you can get it in Liverpool. You could become a supporter, then an addict to Scottishness. I'd support your application to join my clan. One wee test you'd have to take - pronounce correctly ' it's a long way tae Auchenshuggle fae Auchtermuchty if you go by Loch Achrey'. Watch your 'ch's

You can't stop the story there ! I need to know what happens at Greggs.

Firkin you should know better, 'What happens in Huddersfield stays in Huddersfield' although in fairness it can get as far as Dewsbury and Barnsley if you are considering emigrating ?