Well, it had to be done, didn't it? And since this is both the first and last post, I have won. Thank you all.
Talking into thin air will have you carted away again. We've already had that little talk. Try to remember. And pull those socks up. And wipe your nose. You're snivelling.
I'm getting a little worried about our Moffs he's starting to sound a bit like Gollum. Dez,If he starts calling the prize his precious, get him with your pointy stick.
As for Dez being a genie in a bottle with a pointy stick and making noxious substances in cauldrons Nah! His mum maybe, but not a geni.
:0)
Sorry, but I disagree. You'll just have to accept my genius.
I'd prefer to kick your geni-us.
Phil, he has rejected me as his muvver. I got over it quite quickly, really. A cup of tea and a good lie down can cure most ills. And I don't think there is enough sand on the beaches of the world to make a bottle ample enough for my delicate physique.
Can I get him with the stick even if he doesn't call the prize his precious? Hmm? Please?
Oooh! We are getting a little testy! Fortunately us Moths can stand up to such stuff. We are obdurate, strong, brave. And dodge jolly quickly.
Except you keep bashing yourself repeatedly against my winders. With any luck, I may not have to do anything to get rid of you.
eeeeck, (gets rolled up news paper to swipe moths) what can i hit a roo with hmmm, oh just poke it with spikey stick, now to dodge past gramps, oh look gramps cute grandchild ahead, thats done it, grabs prize munny and big trophey . beauties! mine, mine all mine! look me names on it!
Hey, Some strange lass just ran past shouting something about kids and mine all mine, swipped me dirty laundry and legged it while hitting Moffs with a rolled up newspaper. I hope she gets well soon, I need me shirt for work.
Well, I guess you have a right to be shirty! But the strange lass didn't hit me - only my cousin the Bogong moth (ask Dez). She's welcome to the laundry - meanwhile I'll launder some tenners from the Prize. Hehe.
I thought your name was Karen, not Made In China. My mistake, sorry Ms China.
Phil, you can borrow a shirt from Kevin. Now he's into money laundering, he'll be wearing only stripes from now on.
Karen must have had a hankerin' for this:
http://www.dailytelegraph.com.au/news/weird/get-a-taste-of-bogong-moth-frittata/story-e6frev20-1225793129115
She's welcome to all she can eat, but I'll pass, thanks.
We Moths don't wear shirts. We is strong and macho with natural vestiture (nothing to do with vests) and can easily stand up to unreasonable threats of prison for legitimately enjoying the victor's spoils from the Prize. (Yes, I have the Prize - Dez passed it to me. She said so herself.)
:-)
You leave out the important part of the story, though, don't you, Victor Spoil, if that is indeed your real name? The part where I whacked your noggin and reposessed my prize.
Er. a case of mistaken identity I'm afraid. One of my poor cousin Bogong moths. I'm told they taste slightly nutty. Yuk.
Sorry peeps, bit busy at the mo'. Just time to pop in smack a moff with one of them new fangled zapper things, grab the munny and hand it over to Dez to look after as I might not get back for a couple of hours or so.
Moff, youngster, It was you I just gotted. Not and uncle auntie, bruvver, drone,replica or any fink else. Just accept that you was bopped. Us more mature folks are also craftier and sneaky.
Dez, don't get too attached to the prize. :0)
Thank you, Phil. This unbreakable chain tying the prize to my wrist isn't too attached, is it?
As I run off, I shout over my shoulder, "He's not young! That's a toupee!"
You're all telling nonsens. Prize is with me. And I get the magic formula to lock off the chain, though it's hammered with your pointy stick.
Oh, no! *slaps forehead* I thought I hid that magic formula. Prizey! Come back to Mumsy! Ple-e-ease!
Hehe. That magic formula is good for making the Prize appear beside me too.
Oh, go and put your toupee back on. Your brain's frozen. That's not the prize. It's Rita.
I thought Red Indians lived in toupees? My brain's as sharp as ice. And that isn't a prize you've got - it's a pizza.
Ok, I take pizza and the prize and a cold beer please. And pronto!!
And what do you know about the secret, magic formula from wonderland?
I think I have to tell the primary witch that there is leakage in her security system.
How could that happen...
Sure, you're welcome to a pizza and a cold beer. Phil's geni can magic one up anytime. As for secret magic formulae - us moths can get into all sorts of unexpected places - just check your carpet and see! A witch with a leak in her security system sounds embarrassing. I think you can get tablets for it.
:-)
...as you can for toupees that are inhabited by red Indians, but those are much, much stronger. Now just come along with the nice man, Mr Tuck, and we'll sort you out without any fuss.
Gesine, you should know the health risks of that diet. I am shocked. You can't be trusted with the prize munny, because it will all go to the local publican and pizza parlour. Not where a decent prize wants to be. No siree! It wants to live in the Antipodes, sipping coconut milk and lolling on the white sands of the Whitsundays with its Mumsy.
Phil said he is sneaky. Yes, his parole officer agrees.
Ah most every thing we do is health risky. Cross the street and someone in the car that comes from the left reacts too late, slip out on a banana peel and break you what ever. Eat chocolate and you get diabetes and so on and so on. A pizza and a cold beer doesn't matters in that canon.
Hmm white sands we have here also. And in a pinch, we can get coconut milk from the supermarket.
@3119: We have sweet woodruff all around the house to prevent from moth. They one can come in when one of our cat brings an exemplar as trophy...
So, long speach, short sense:I'm the winner