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A Defiant Last Posting of Complete Codswallop!


bobby47
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Last night, shortly after I'd engaged in sexual intercourse with my tormentor the wife, I began to read a very interesting book. It's all about reincarnation. How, when we die we get to come back from the other side but instead of being another human, destined to fail miserably in life, you get to be another earthly species.

In Chapter Two, titled, ' you don't want to come back as a dung beetle', the author suggested that you can actually will your choice of species after your heart attack brought about by high levels of cholesterol which then got me thinking!

Nibbling upon my custard slice I thought, well I've no desire to come back as an insect. I mean, who would? You'd be an odd sort if you wished for that. Horrid little things if my views are worth a jot of notice. Birds crossed my mind. Lovely things. Glorious creations of God but of course they eat insects and are forever pecking away at the contents of our black bin bags and whilst I loved the idea of flight I didn't fancy getting out of me nest every bloody day, flying off in search of an insect to eat. In fact, its this notion of eating vast numbers of insects, day in, day out, week after week that made me quickly decide that birds, fish and other creatures who enjoyed eating the mosquito were definitely not for me.

After reaching Chapter seven, titled, ' don't pick something that sees you wrapped up in cling film on a supermarket shelf', I decided upon the ferret.

The ferret is a lovely creature. Highly intelligent, it doesn't eat insects and judging by what goes on within the cage of my two hand reared ferrets, they enjoy a highly sensual and sexual lifestyle which makes me conclude, if ever I get flattened by a ten ton truck as I stagger down to the Wye to fish for barbel, when I zip off racing toward the light, Im coming back as a ferret.

I mean, think about it, the ferret isn't something we choose to eat unless of course your bloody starving, it's not like the badger who's daily existence is blighted by the worry of a cull and the only unpleasant thing ever asked of a ferret is at Village Fetes when some fool steps forward, out of his mind on drugs and intoxicating liquor and he makes his ferrets rummage and scurry around beneath his trousers.

No! Whilst I've no desire to become a pet to a man who enjoys having me scurrying about around his genitals to entertain himself or others, I've no problem in saying, when I die Im coming back as a ferret.

There! Ain't that codswallop? Complete rubbish! Totally harmless and unless you are a fan of insects, it cannot cause any of you to cry out, 'oh! Im offended. Im upset by it all. So hurt and filled with angst am I, Im going to send Fortyseven a message saying I don't want to read this rubbish on our forum anymore'.

I hope Aylestone Voice comes back as a Maggot! Mature enough to dangle upon my barbed hook!

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Good choice Bobby!

 

I think I'd come back as a tortoise......a little slow getting there, but slow and steady wins the race! A nice hard shell, to deflect anything unwanted,( comments or otherwise!) and a tasty vegetarian diet!

I'd also get to hibernate through these long, cold, dark months and wake up when spring is in the air!

 

Yes! An optimistic tortoise would be my reincarnation of choice!

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Bobby , must say in defence of hedgehogs that badgers are their only predeters ( other than some sections of the human race ).

Mrs Ubique is caring for 12 hedgehogs who were not of the correct weight to hibernate last October , they will be released next April time in non badger areas.

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Bobby!

I need some clarification!

The title of your piece "A Defiant Last Posting Of Complete Codswallop!"

 

Do you mean your last post, as in ever......???

Or your last nonsensical tripe laden post....???

 

Have to say, either would be a great loss....but there's always HT!!

 

(Colin and Biomech - please note, correct use of the underlining tool, and not an italic in sight!!)

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Gridknocker,full of new year remorse took a stroll over the newly built greenway bridge,looked over the side,slipped and fell in.Gridknocker came to & wept.He was under the Wye,trapped in the dripping grotto that is King Bobby's lair carpeted by thousands of copies of the Hereford Times with just a table & laptop,a bottle of bells & hessian sack that was filled with Bobby's special things: his teddy, his catapult, his first fishing net & rod, his autograph book full of signatures from local Tory Councillors he had fawned over.Gridknocker wriggled. He was hanging upside down, his legs trapped in an Asda trolly. It hurt, his shorts were wet with his own terror and the slime from Bobby's lair. Bobby limped over to Gridknocker, his long cape dragging on the murky newspaper strewn floor. He looked into Gridknockers terrified little face and spoke, his fetid fish breath sliding up gridknockers nose. "You have failed again Gridknocker,I want my stupid ramblings listed above your lame attempts to be king,I don't want to ever see your fictional stories ever again. Do you understand?" Gridknocker squeezed his eyes and shook his head frantically. He had soiled himself again

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Think that it's more exciting if we do not know the destination , just follow the front of the VW and be guided by Bobbies thoughts . We will stop in towns and get Bobby to make speeches on street corners to get the petrol money.

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