Have I told you about Squatter and the ant?

( drimble he'd been white, he'd been black, Mon 23 Sep 2013, 19:50, 5 replies)

I don't believe you have old chap.
Let me just settle with this cigar and a brandy.
Right, let's hear it.
( stuj (^(^;;^)^) GO TEAM SPIDERS!(^(^;;^)^), Mon 23 Sep 2013, 21:49, closed)

Well, Squatter, Squatter was in a terrible position.
He was in Bahrain, which is a pretty bloody place to be. And there was this ant, which had only one leg and only one eye, and it was about two miles away from Squatter. So, a pretty bloody menacing position for Squatter, who was equipped only with, erm, you know, a hydrogen bomb, erm, six grenades, and, erm, a few rifles.

And this bloody ant, one eye, one leg, was advancing towards Squatter at about-, oh, I'd say at about, er, a mile every century, you know. Really speeding up. I think the animal was on drugs. Or heat, yes, as you may say. And Squatter, with his extraordinary calm, took it very smoothly. And do you know what he did?

Nothing.

He immediately did nothing.

And this stupified the ant. Stopped in its tracks. Didn't move an inch for about, um, three and a half years, yes. But still Squatter was very much aware of the problem of the ant, with all of one leg and all of one eye, advancing towards him. So he took up, you know, a strategic position with about five thousand men on one side and seven thousand men on the other side, all equipped with, er, various kinds of guns and so on. The ant was, er, fairly pinpointed. But what was odd was the ant understood Squatter. The ant realised he was up against somebody as good as-, as good as he was. Equals in their struggle, yes. So Squatter, with a tremendous display of courage, put up his hands and surrendered.

And the ant, five years laters, yes, five years laters, crept into the, er, hole, and Squatter was gone.

And this is the extraordinary thing about Squatter: he was never there when he was wanted. And Squatter told me later that, ah, he'd gone because he'd had to go.

That sums up Squatter for me.
( drimble he'd been white, he'd been black, Tue 24 Sep 2013, 2:13, closed)

Marvelous dear fellow, simply marvelous.
Now, have I ever told you about the worst job I ever had?
( stuj (^(^;;^)^) GO TEAM SPIDERS!(^(^;;^)^), Tue 24 Sep 2013, 2:43, closed)

I don't believe you have old chap.
Let me just settle with this cigar and a brandy.
Right, let's hear it.
( drimble he'd been white, he'd been black, Tue 24 Sep 2013, 7:33, closed)

Mmm yes do tell old chap
Puffs cigar and drinks brandy.....
The worst job I ever had was with Jayne Mansfield. You know, she was a fantastic bird, you know ..... big tits, huge bum, and everything like that, but I had the terrible job of retrieving lobsters from her bum. Well, it was quite a task 'cause she had a big bum and they were big lobsters.
Well, she had one and, er, you know, presumably in the afterlife she still has one. But I had to, used to go round, you know, of an evening when Jayne was sleeping or sort of comatose, like you know, just lying there and, er, I had to retrieve these lobsters from her arsehole.
Basically, she suffered from, er, what was known in-, in the medical trade as 'lobsters-up-the-arsehole' this was the scientific, er, term for it but, you know, in general terms it was known as 'Lobsterisimus -um- Bummakisimus and it was my job every evening to go round to Jayne who was a sweet girl Sweet, charming, shy, mysterious girl and get these fucking lobsters out of her arsehole.
Which is so tricky because she was a very sensitive woman, you know.
I used to go round there every evening and these lobsters, you know, she used to go out bathing in Malibu which is where she used to go out bathing Malibu, yes. Malibu-de-bum-bum. And, erm, up went the lobsters - boing! - straight up her arsehole
(andythepieman Is surfing the waves of indifference on, Tue 24 Sep 2013, 13:05, closed)