shared story

you bring back that macaw Andrew and I may have to resurrect my dog - Legs Hagger - to give him a good seeing to! am still 'cherry picking' my way around these threads but it really is a hopeless task. I haven't even got to grips with this story yet. Judging by some of the others I have scanned some things never change do they? did I mention my suntan? sorry to interrupt the story. please carry on. I notice the absence of bobby zamora. is that because he is about to be transferred thus condemming brighton to freefall relegation? (chortle) (pip bloody pip)

first post in over 3 weeks and a glaring typo for my trub. thought I'd apologise before Andrea picks me up. :0)

So kind, Stormy. Carry on I will. Regardless, even. Delighted to hear you are toned, tanned and tested...sorry...rested after your hols (?). Can't remember, offhand, who Bobby Zamora is/was, but wil be sure to exclude him/her from future episodes... Should there be any.

Rosebud O'Flattery burst into the room one night when Edith was sitting in her ingle nook munching snails and polishing her tuba "Edith O Donahugue! I am your long lost daughter" she cried with enormous passion. "May I come in and bring a friend?"

Edith, who had always been under the impression that her roots lay in London, rather then Derry, was flabbergasted. Even worse, if she did have a long-lost offspring, the conception of same had been completely obliterated from her memory. "Gawd," she breathed, picking a particularly obstinate piece of mollusc from between her incisors, ''now 'ere's a turn up for the books..." Edith was a woman of few words...

Done on a lot of writers community thingies, and a fun thing to do. My writers circle does it too, with a max of 300 words per go. I'm game...

er......... you go first! maybe less than 300 words? maybe two sentences max..I was thinking? If it didn't work we could go to more.....what do you think?

..rounding up all gender non specifics in their organisation for the hugest party in the whole world. The music would be provided by the partner organisation the Tuba Alliance, suddenly formed by Edith in a flash of inspiration. being it's sole member she headed the procession as they made their way to Oprah's velvet walled studio.

Ok, 'One night Edith, Luther King-like, had a dream. She did not, of course, have a faithful following with whom to share her revelation, but it was a vision, nevertheless, which was destined to change the course of her life. Not to mention the lives of countless thousands of some of the Earth’s more humble inhabitants.' How's that...? Three sentences, I know, but sometimes one can't afford to be picky...

Ensconced in the Green Room, however, Edith began to have serious doubts. "Cor," quoth she, quaffing champers form Waterford crystal, "It ain't 'alf posh, innit?" Born and bred on a Camden housing estate she was, understandably, a trifle flustered. "Maybe," she said to Marge, her mate of many moons, "I should 'ave offered me services to Jerry..." ... etc etc...

The first part of the plan was to do something about removing Rolf Harris from the Animal Hospital in a bid to prevent the poor creatures in for treatment being too traumatised. TV vets were next on the list and then some counselling had to be found for the Emus at Longleat Safari Park after their close encounter with Ben from castaway 2000....

Rosebud settled at the hearth with her undevoted amneasiac mollusc quaffing mother...her best friend Anthony Baggottery sat nervously by the door.... "Mother," whispered Rosebud "Ah well..I must admit it..I probably did produce a child or two in the sixties...Yes Rosebud...you are my own little darling nodule....what can i now do for you me ducks to be very sure.?" "Mother..I'm to be married to Anthony Baggottery tomorrow..will you play the tuba for my processionup the aisle? Will you do that? " Edith glowed...she was very clsoe to the crackling fire...she was at a certain time of life..but she was also very chuffed to be asked. "It'll be my pride and joy to do that luvva me darlin'." she said ina muddled Irish and London twang. Nervous Anthoy Baggottery jumped in the air and started to dance.He pulled a fiddle fromunderhis moudly jacket and his eyes twinkling commenced to play a medley of musichall numbers and Irish reels...soon the hosue was rocking with the as Edith put inthe bass on her Tuba and Rosebud bashed a frying pan with the tongs to it a bit of a beat...what a hootnenany clumpety clump they all had... the neighbours buried their heads in their pillows and tried to sleep but soon the whole neighbourhood was up and at it..dancing down the wiggedly street with Anthony Baggottery leading the like the pied piper.... (oooooooooooops written too much and was supposed to have banned myself fomr doing this.)

Rosebud settled at the hearth with her undevoted amneasiac mollusc quaffing mother...her best friend Anthony Baggottery sat nervously by the door.... "Mother," whispered Rosebud "Ah well..I must admit it..I probably did produce a child or two in the sixties...Yes Rosebud...you are my own little darling nodule....what can i now do for you me ducks to be very sure.?" "Mother..I'm to be married to Anthony Baggottery tomorrow..will you play the tuba for my processionup the aisle? Will you do that? " Edith glowed...she was very clsoe to the crackling fire...she was at a certain time of life..but she was also very chuffed to be asked. "It'll be my pride and joy to do that luvva me darlin'." she said ina muddled Irish and London twang. Nervous Anthoy Baggottery jumped in the air and started to dance.He pulled a fiddle fromunderhis moudly jacket and his eyes twinkling commenced to play a medley of musichall numbers and Irish reels...soon the hosue was rocking with the as Edith put inthe bass on her Tuba and Rosebud bashed a frying pan with the tongs to it a bit of a beat...what a hootnenany clumpety clump they all had... the neighbours buried their heads in their pillows and tried to sleep but soon the whole neighbourhood was up and at it..dancing down the wiggedly street with Anthony Baggottery leading the like the pied piper.... (oooooooooooops written too much and was supposed to have banned myself fomr doing this.)

Edith, as can be seen, was a confirmed telly addict Affectionately referred to as 'Ede the Cube' by all her mates, she was notoriously and unfortunately unable to drag herself away from the box long enough to empty overflowing ashtrays, let alone plot and execute a campaign. What was to be done? 'Blimey,' sighed Edith, lighting up another fag, 'what's to be done?'...

'First things first,' she said to herself. 'I'll log in to ABCtales and get those people motivated. They don't spend all day watching telly!' In the corner her macaw squawked its support.

Unexpectedly there was a knock at the door, she left the macaw chewing on a crumpet and answered it, there was a very small man carrying a tuba, hopping on one leg on the doorstep. "Can I help you?" said Edith accidently flicking ash down the tuba. The man looked up and smiled nervously, " Do you have any aspirin?"

Before Edith could answer, the tuba coughed a loud BEEEEEE-OOOOOOH two-noter and send her ash flying, in more ways than one, if you know what I mean. Sorry about that, lady, he is tempermental at times. About that aspirin?

Before Edith could answer, the tuba coughed up a loud BEEEEE-OOOOH two-noted and sent her ash flying, in more ways than one, if you know what I mean. Sorry about that, lady, but he's tempermental at times. Now about that aspirin?

She handed over the apirin and the one-legged man beamed with joy. "For this precious pill, you are granted three wishes - but they must all include the word 'tuba' in order to be effective. You have five minutes in order to give them to me."

Edith, a kindly soul and a great fan of 'Casualty', regarded the remaining leg with concern and curiosity. "Bin in an accident then, mate? 'Ere, have a fag, make yer feel better" and she proffered her precious packet of Silk Cut to the afflicted visitor. Edith, such grey matter as she had working overtime and heartily wishing all her pills, past and present, were so potent, racked her brains. She desperately needed to locate the Thesaurus she'd inherited from her old man following his sad demise due to the excesses of an lifelong alcoholic existance. The word 'tuba', unfortunately, was not in Edith's vocabulary. ''Tuba, tuba, tuba...bloody hell!" she muttered...

...Rats, unaccustomed to Mozart (or 'Whiskey in a Jar'), joined the throng, whiskers a'quiver... *Well, it was a nice idea, anyone else wanna have a go? Looks like Kim's buggered off* A new intro, maybe?

"I wish firstly that your Tuba was crammed full of fifty pound notes." Edith started babbling, "I wish your tuba was a magic Tuba and that it would only wanted to stay with me!" and finally she looked deep into the eyes of the furry little man, "I wish your Tuba would batter you until you look like squashed tomatoes! Ha" The little man ran as fast as his little legs could carry him, but not fast enough.

Rosebud turned to her mother for one last time hoping to get the help she so badly needed. "Mother i plan to go on the Jerry Springer show.....you see i need to tell my husband to be that i used to be a man."

Having posted the same time as Andrea I have to quickly add that Edith suddenly discovered it was in her vocabulary!!!

'Oi!" quoth, Edith, quite overcome, despite being accustomed to men legging it on a fairly regular basis..."come back 'ere, I've found it..." and she brandished the OED (all she could fiind at such short notice) at the hurridly hopping figure about to disappear behind the wheelie bins... "Chewba," yelled Edith, "A brass wind instrument..." She gasped, "of the saxhorn kind..." "A powerful reed-stop in an organ..." she screeched deperately...

Just then, Danny Kaye floated in through Edith's window on a beautiful pink cloud and Edith and the little man ran inside to sit down quietly to listen to his rendition of Tubby the Tuba. It was like all the solutions to all the problems inn the world had suddnely been laid before them. They held hands. They knew they had a mission.

All this talk of battering, mayhem and three wishes seemingly forgotten they decided...........

to follow their dreams...they waved goodbye to D.Kaye and set about making some plans......."The three wishes..now what were they?" said Edith

Having discovered, quite by chance and much questioning, that the 'little man' rejoiced in the name of Fred Edith, all agog and wreathed in smoke, pushed the pouffe towards her stricken soulmate... "Come on then, love..." she wheedled, "spill the bloody beans and tell us yer plans..." Fred, resting his solitary pin on the proffered pouffe, inhaled deeply, Clinton-like, and prepared to give voice...

As he shared hhis plans his voice took on a queer hiccupy squeaky-ness that Edith found strangely alluring. For his part he found talking to this large beguiling brute of a woman quite a turn on. Unfortunately their developing passion for one another got in the way of actually listening and so very soon the hairy little man was talking utter gobbledy gook( if that's the wya to spell it) Edith began to undress. It seemed the sensible to thing to do. Her immense pants crashed to the floor and finally the hairy little man's talking ceased. "Cor" he squeaked

..."them'd put Alan Titchmarch's melons to shame, them would!" Edith, nothing daunted and mindful of the possible impending redundancy of Rolf and his ilk came, albeit not literally, swiftly to her senses. Thus it was that The Great Cubic Scam was born...

WHAT??????????????

Edith, barely able to come to terms with the fact that she had a daughter, was now confronted with the terrible news that she'd given birth to a hermaphrodite. She felt she had no choice but to contact Oprah forthwith...

Now the Great Cubic Scam is an extension of the the Great Rubic Cube. It involves getting millions of people doing things that are utterly pointless. The difference between them is that one involves innocent, hardworking, deluded individuals with no power; the other involves only the rich and powerful, the movers and shakers, the ones that count - and this time it involved the internet. The Great Cubic Scam will de-power the powerful, de-shake the shakers and un-hand the handy...

Fortunately Edith was a personal friend of Oprah's having joined the subscribers to OPRAH magazine.(Apparently because she is the only person to do so she gets prefferential treatment.) She picked up her fire wood and smoke signal blanket and proceeded to message oprah using the ancient technique of smoke signals. Unfortunately her message was intercepted by the Heamaphrodite European Society for Helping the Engaged (also known as HESHE) and....

Do you think that was all Edith's idea?

Edith had spent half a lifetime doing that which is pointless. She'd tried dieting, whereupon everything had instantaneoulsy headed south. Yoga left her tied up in knots. Swimming got up her nose and the gym was obviously a cunning device invented by Torquemada. Now, however, Edith had reached that time of life when actions spoke, if not louder than words, at least more forcefully than they had hitherto. It was time, so to speak, to take the bull by the horns... *Well, you started it, Kim!*

(oh bugger..can't leave it like this..just one more addition and then oblivion) Edith summoned all her energy into one mighty smash..the cube hit the spanish tiles...smashed in to multicoloured fragments...a large chunk landed in the mouth of the tuba...the tuba choked and began rolling in convulsions.....rolling and rolling...towards the hairy man.. "Edith," said the choking tuba.."It's just you and me..forget this hairy bugger...take lessons on my oompah"...The scales dropped from Edith's eyes and at last she knew her destiny was to become a fantastical tuba twiddler....she picked up her metal lover shook him mightily, dislodging the chunk of cube...she battered the hairy man good and proer and then took the tuba to her room.....together they made three new wishes........................

Deciding, after much deliberation, that she'd seriously strayed from the original excercise, Edith thrust Fred from her heaving bosom and resolved to start anew... Not one particularly converse with things gastronomic Edith had, nevertheless, noticed the astounding abundance of gasteropodous molluscs feeding ferociously on her once-flowering delphiniums. She therefore decided, in a flash of unprecedented inspiration, to take advantage of the food source that presented itself, literally, upon her doostep... "Blimey! Snails!" she muttered with glee, "Must be a bob or two to make there, then..." ....

*what a cop-out!* Edith, unfamiliar with modern technology and being a staunch admirer of David Attenborough, lit yet another fag and, as smoke billowed, frantically flapped her blanket, little realising that HESHE (*you gotta be jesting, no?*), binoculars to the fore, were faithfully following every puff. Stedman, a continent away, scanned the horizon. 'Oprah, dahling...,' he drawled, guzzling Chivas Regal with unseemly haste, '...seems like you've got yet another message from that nutter on the other side of the pond...'

There's always a danger in this type of thing that people think it has to lead up to a punchline, or descend into smut!!!!!! I was looking forward to having a go at this one - do another one! PLEASE!!

*yes it was an absymal cop-out fair enough* Oprah having been communicating via smoke signals since she was a small child managed to read the signals despite the distance. With her fantastic vision she also managed to spot Edith as she frantically made the messages. As she was viewing the message she realised that it was being sent on an unsecure smoke signal line? (*going to extremes now*) She quickly replied to the message telling Edith it was a wrong number. Edith realised her mistake seconds too late and the HESHE (yes i jest) organisation were already aware of the message. Having realised the high profile receiver of the message was non other than Oprah they sprung into action beggining by... (*sadly enough this is more creative than anything i've written in months*)

Huh! I like this one! ...Edith, whose vocabulary, whilst not being particularly extensive did, however, include 'escargot' (due to many hours lost in open-mouthed admiration at the culinary skills portrayed by the likes of Jamie, Delia and Anthony), saw a gap in the market. She had snails in abundance and there, before her very eyes, was a market... *Waddya mean, smut? What's smutty about snails? Slimy, yes, smutty definitely not!*

*wrestling with conscience... I did promise Stormy I wouldn't resurrect a certain macaw, but this is bringing back happy memories of the web soap*

Kim has edith upstairs alone, Andrea has him coming out of her bosom, I'm confused. Thanks Kim for the battering that was just what he needed. Please continue I'm too confused to help!

...attempting to decode the signals. Their chief decoder however was, unfortunately, or perhaps fortuitously, depending on your point of view, undergoing a revolutionary new gender operation in a Swiss clinic and, in his/her absence, much confusion reigned. "Oi, Opera...!" translated a puzzled rookie, choking on smoke , "I needs yer 'elp, luv! I've given birth to a bleedin' monster..." He turned to his superior for help, support and giudance...

His superior a person of great bearing in certain circles shook his/her head in wonder. It was decided the message was in a coded form and the organisation quikly set their top code cracking team on the case. Toni and Tony quickly got to work as a brother sister siamese twin team they worked extrmely well together and within moments they had cracked the code. It was revealed to the massing HESHE community as... "The nuclear bomb is ready for you do detonate .....Oprah....we shall crush the new nation alliance for the protection of the world forcing everyone to bow before my new heamaphrodite child and her husband to be...." The HESHE organisation saw nothing wrong with this plan and decided to help by......

*Kim's done a bunk dammit! C'mon, Andrew, gimme a hand here...* ...Edith, a comfirmed animal lover and life-long member of the RSPCA, threw Malachy the Macaw a handful of bird-seed in distracted fashion. Not sure where his next meal was coming from, he squawked gratefully, spraying seed. Edith's brain made several stange progessions of thought...garden - larkspur - snails - Anthony Worrell Thompson - Ready, Steady, Cook - escargot - gastronomic delicacies - paying public... "Hey, Ma!" she shouted down the phone, "You got any of them pots left wot you used to pickle pears in...?"