General Chat

could book in for B&B so

felt a resurgence of energy and he almost fell into the barn on to a pile of hay - but wait - he is not alone!!! who else is in the barn, could it be

they've all been at the woad....... every single one of them has blue stripes on their faces (and they're not Rangers supporters)......... Shrieking madly, they ran after Elderick, who was shrieking even louder.......... and as he ran into the woods he saw a caravan...............

He was stuck between a rock and a hard place; inflamed WI ladies or Meg the gypsy fortuneteller's caravan....which to choose?!

When along came Horace and Wilfred Bumble, bachelors of the parish with a solution....

play dead they shrieked ! play dead man.........

so he lay down, rolled onto his back with his legs and arms raised towards the sky............when............

a swarm of bees surrounded him - sheer panic set in then - should he still play dead or run for the hills? after all, his tender bits were overexposed and he might need them one day - he decided the best thing to do was

lay there,,,,,,,,,,but he heard a wailing coming from behind him............da de da,,,,,Oh NO he groaned......heavy breathing surely that wasnt coming from him,,,,was it,?

a big black shadow blocked his vision,the sound emitting from it was like a banshee on crack and then it loomed and clamped on to his mouth,!!!!

YE GODS!!! his nightmare began ,,,,, Big Bertha was befret in trying to give him the kiss of life,,"",come back to me my love come back Eldrick "" as her breath entered his lungs.......

he felt as if he was fighting for his very life - this woman was BIG in every way - eventually he managed to speak - gerroff me he gasped as he

struggled to his feet and hobbled away as he had a sore

big toe from a bee sting and he hobbled as fast as he could away from Big Bertha when

by the grace of God... or it may have been Dog... his faithfull hound suddenly appeared and growled threateningly at the still pursuing Bertha, Eldrick took the opportunity to hobble as fast as he could to the nearby hostelry...

there at the bar they worshipped john smith in a frosted glass ;-)

As he sat drinking that welcomed pint he suddenly slipped of his stool and

As he lay on the temple bar floor a big powerful loud voice boomed down


You have been saved,,,,,,,,,,,surely now you belive there is a


*GOD*

but even though he was concussed he wasn;'t having any of it - tosh he retorted, utter tosh, and with the help of two trusty friends he staggered back to the safety of his manorial pile - once in the house he felt safe for the first time in ages - had it all been a dream - but then

as he lay prostrate on the wooden floor, rubbing his aching sacrum ilium, suddenly the doors were flung open wide and there stood . . . . . Big Bertha, her eyes blazing with fury! 'There you are, you nasty little weasel', she screeched and strode through the cowering crowd, her arms and chins waving maniacally. 'Oh no', he whimpered, clutching his mushrooms,' please no'! Then he passed out and

when he came to, his first blurry sight was of Big Bertha using his biggest mushroom to darn her socks. He had never felt so abused and humiliated since the night when

he'd woken up to find himself passionately kissing his favourite bloodhound - must've been dreaming about something else he thought - but her using his big mushroom, well words could not describe his feelings of total abhorrence - this "woman" who was blighting his ife - how could he get rid of her - he lay back and began to devise ways of doing this when he had a really bright idea, he