Title: Wagner Vs Hookjaw, who would win?
Post by: Art on 25 January, 2003, 04:38:44 PM
Post by: Art on 25 January, 2003, 04:38:44 PM
Title: Re: Wagner Vs Hookjaw, who would w...
Post by: Devons Daddy on 25 January, 2003, 04:50:23 PM
Post by: Devons Daddy on 25 January, 2003, 04:50:23 PM
now wagner could write his way out of this and do it with style.
lucky for him its not a pat mills character i though isnt it.
lucky for him its not a pat mills character i though isnt it.
Title: Re: Wagner Vs Hookjaw, who would w...
Post by: Art on 25 January, 2003, 04:53:17 PM
Post by: Art on 25 January, 2003, 04:53:17 PM
Metafiction is for wussers. If he wants to get out of that situation he's going to have to BITE THE SHARKS JUGULAR OUT.
Title: Re: Wagner Vs Hookjaw, who would w...
Post by: judda fett on 25 January, 2003, 04:55:27 PM
Post by: judda fett on 25 January, 2003, 04:55:27 PM
He could crush its windpipe so it wouldnt be able to breathe.
Title: Re: Wagner Vs Hookjaw, who would w...
Post by: GordonR on 25 January, 2003, 05:29:46 PM
Post by: GordonR on 25 January, 2003, 05:29:46 PM
Weirdly, I believe John's off on a scuba-diving holiday very soon.
I pity the shark that tries to take a bite out of the Big W...
I pity the shark that tries to take a bite out of the Big W...
Title: Re: Wagner Vs Hookjaw, who would w...
Post by: Quirkafleeg on 25 January, 2003, 07:38:29 PM
Post by: Quirkafleeg on 25 January, 2003, 07:38:29 PM
Was that you I saw buying a shark suit the other day, Gorden?
Title: Merry Burn's Night
Post by: Demon Chicken on 25 January, 2003, 07:51:38 PM
Post by: Demon Chicken on 25 January, 2003, 07:51:38 PM
I hope you'll all be having your haggis, neeps and tatties tonight along with a wee dram (or two)
Fair fa' your honest, sonsie face,
Great chieftain o' the pudding-race!
Aboon them a' yet tak your place,
Painch, tripe, or thairm:
Weel are ye wordy o'a grace
As lang's my arm.
The groaning trencher there ye fill,
Your hurdies like a distant hill,
Your pin was help to mend a mill
In time o'need,
While thro' your pores the dews distil
Like amber bead.
His knife see rustic Labour dight,
An' cut you up wi' ready sleight,
Trenching your gushing entrails bright,
Like ony ditch;
And then, O what a glorious sight,
Warm-reekin', rich!
Then, horn for horn, they stretch an' strive:
Deil tak the hindmost! on they drive,
Till a' their weel-swall'd kytes belyve
Are bent like drums;
Then auld Guidman, maist like to rive,
Bethankit! hums.
Is there that owre his French ragout
Or olio that wad staw a sow,
Or fricassee wad make her spew
Wi' perfect sconner,
Looks down wi' sneering, scornfu' view
On sic a dinner?
Poor devil! see him owre his trash,
As feckles as wither'd rash,
His spindle shank, a guid whip-lash;
His nieve a nit;
Thro' blody flood or field to dash,
O how unfit!
But mark the Rustic, haggis-fed,
The trembling earth resounds his tread.
Clap in his walie nieve a blade,
He'll mak it whissle;
An' legs an' arms, an' hands will sned,
Like taps o' trissle.
Ye Pow'rs, wha mak mankind your care,
And dish them out their bill o' fare,
Auld Scotland wants nae skinking ware
That jaups in luggies;
But, if ye wish her gratefu' prayer
Gie her a haggis!
Fair fa' your honest, sonsie face,
Great chieftain o' the pudding-race!
Aboon them a' yet tak your place,
Painch, tripe, or thairm:
Weel are ye wordy o'a grace
As lang's my arm.
The groaning trencher there ye fill,
Your hurdies like a distant hill,
Your pin was help to mend a mill
In time o'need,
While thro' your pores the dews distil
Like amber bead.
His knife see rustic Labour dight,
An' cut you up wi' ready sleight,
Trenching your gushing entrails bright,
Like ony ditch;
And then, O what a glorious sight,
Warm-reekin', rich!
Then, horn for horn, they stretch an' strive:
Deil tak the hindmost! on they drive,
Till a' their weel-swall'd kytes belyve
Are bent like drums;
Then auld Guidman, maist like to rive,
Bethankit! hums.
Is there that owre his French ragout
Or olio that wad staw a sow,
Or fricassee wad make her spew
Wi' perfect sconner,
Looks down wi' sneering, scornfu' view
On sic a dinner?
Poor devil! see him owre his trash,
As feckles as wither'd rash,
His spindle shank, a guid whip-lash;
His nieve a nit;
Thro' blody flood or field to dash,
O how unfit!
But mark the Rustic, haggis-fed,
The trembling earth resounds his tread.
Clap in his walie nieve a blade,
He'll mak it whissle;
An' legs an' arms, an' hands will sned,
Like taps o' trissle.
Ye Pow'rs, wha mak mankind your care,
And dish them out their bill o' fare,
Auld Scotland wants nae skinking ware
That jaups in luggies;
But, if ye wish her gratefu' prayer
Gie her a haggis!
Title: Re: Wagner Vs Hookjaw, who would w...
Post by: Queen Firey-Bou on 25 January, 2003, 08:57:00 PM
Post by: Queen Firey-Bou on 25 January, 2003, 08:57:00 PM
Isn't that a special shark jaw opening muscular spasm grenade on his belt ? i would think a like side wriggle & he could lob that in via the gills nayborra-ata'.
bet devons daddies got a good shark reciepe too, enough for all the board & droids .
bet devons daddies got a good shark reciepe too, enough for all the board & droids .