Ah, but then again you probably have a life.

Quote from: fsn on 15 December 2013, 09:45:38 PM
Ah, but then again you probably have a life.

I do ... and I spend most of it talking at to people!

Unfortunately, once I get home from work, I'm largely unable to get out again, so my social circle is msotly this forum.

HAH !!....I barely get out.....Which is why I enjoy the forum so much.
But I think most of you had sussed that out already !
Cheers - Phil.

"Get two grips"

You called...

Quote from: fsn on 16 December 2013, 07:14:34 AM
Unfortunately, once I get home from work, I'm largely unable to get out again, so my social circle is msotly this forum.

I'm a bit like that as well!  Most of my friends live away from the area, so I only see them when they're home visiting.

Quote from: get2grips on 16 December 2013, 08:45:24 AM
"Get two grips"

You called...

Wasn't that on the Christmas Cracker jokes on day 1? Do keep up.

Day 1?

It seems such a long time ago now...

Anyone got the words for the 13th to 24th day of Christmas?

Quote from: fsn on 16 December 2013, 12:24:26 PM
Anyone got the words for the 13th to 24th day of Christmas?

No the band split before they released the second concept album

Quote from: fsn on 16 December 2013, 12:24:26 PM
Anyone got the words for the 13th to 24th day of Christmas?

It's the twelve days of Christmas - clue is in the title

The twelve days of Christmas run from Christmas Day to Twelfth Night (or in some traditions from Boxing Day to Twelfth Day). Basically Christmas to Epiphany.

Each gift should be more extravagant than the last and alliteration is common. I'd say you have twelve days of composing ahead of you. I have no doubt of your ability to this because you are mad as a fish so wonderfully inventive! 

I've loved it so far, hope you can keep it going!

A suggestion to get you started fsn:

On the twenty-fourth day of Christmas my true love sent to me

Twenty-four Galactic Governments

Twenty-three World Dominations

Twenty-two Ancient Empires

Twenty-one Covetous Countries

Twenty Total Wars

Nineteen Nascent Nations

Eighteen Early Warnings

Seventeen Sirens Sounding

Sixteen Standing Armies

Fifteen Dictators Dancing

Fourteen Fortresses Falling

Thirteen Toppled Monarchs

Far from a finished article but food for thought, maybe?

Quote from: fsn on 16 December 2013, 11:53:38 AM
Wasn't that on the Christmas Cracker jokes on day 1? Do keep up.

I'm a slow reader

Well, it's a bit brisker today. I came home and was surprised and almost gladded that there was no Pendraken package nailed, glued, stapled or otherwise affixed to my front door. However I had spoken too soon, for the little old lady called my attention to one of those distinctive neutral, regular packages on the ground under one of the magnificent trees that gladden the avenue wherein I dwell. She bent to retrieve the package and there was mighty "snap" and she disappeared. I tutted at the minor inconvenience of having to retrieve the package myself, and found that she'd been distracted by a rope hung from the tree, doubtless by some hooded youth as an alternative form of entertainment to illegal narcotics and petty larceny, and was now engaged in some admittedly impressive aerial gymnastics suspended from the rope by her foot. All the time, she was whooping and hollering in excitement, so I Ieft her to it and retreated indoors with my package intact.

Ripping open the package with barely felt glee, I dumped the contents of the table. They were all there the gun-toting tree, the poxy South-East Asian French buffoons and their increasing ugly desert companions. The paints as always provided a distraction – these from Pendraken's "Hollywood" range: "Soylent Green", "Crimson Tide", "Into the Blue" and "RED".

The five top totty come from a range that I think will not be very popular. They're from the "Totty dressed as the things that Royal Navy ships at the Battle of Jutland have been named after" range. OK here goes. Let's start with an easy one there a girl dressed as a big cat – HMS Tiger.  Then there's a maiden attached to a number of wooden boards that obviously affect her ability to bend – HMS Inflexible. The third is slightly more difficult; she's attired to represent the lead singer of the popular '80s band Ultravox – HMS Midge. The fourth ... this must be wrong ... it's just the superhero Storm as portrayed in the X-Men films by the lovely Halle Berry. There was no HMS Storm at Jutland was there? ... ah ... oh ... tenuous ... it's HMS Marvel. The fifth is my particular bug bear. It's a tiny goddess leading a lamb, with a huge joint of meat in her other hand. This apparently represents HMS Barham. "Baa-Ham" – what feeble minded oaf thought that one up?

That's put me in a bad mood. Right, those 6 artillerymen can go to the chemistry experiment, as can the half-cut swimming Seeps, once I've plucked out the drivers and subjected them to some attitude readjustment with a hammer.

The eight she-regicides are of an oriental theme today. Shuriken, naginata, asymmetric bows, and all dressed in ninja gear. Those will be useful.

Not so the nine Regency gentlemen pegging. Is there a serious need for these? Scruff 'em up and they will pass for guerrillas, but how many Lords of Chaos does one army need?   With all these leaders wouldn't things get a bit chaotic. Oh. That's probably the point.

So today's attempt to drive me completely out of what few senses I have left? To quote a character I'm awfully fond of: I do not believe it! This addition to the League of Ausberg range, which to be honest seems to have it's tentacles around the pink and crinklies of the Pendraken leadership, (I'm sorry, that's just how I feel) is, believe it or call me a damned liar, a selection of eleven pikemen looking through holes in a fence! I have to say they are really beautifully done (must be yours Clib, so clean) but really, does the LoA warrant such attention?

So this eleventh gift at Christmas Pendraken sent to me 11 Pikemen peeping, 10 Lords of Chaos, 9 Dandies lancing, 8 ways to kill king, 7 Seeps a swimming, 6 gunners laying,  5 top totty, 4 pots of paint, 3 French Brens, 2 Tonkin Zouaves and a sniper in a fir tree.

The advent calendar. Not that I care. Those Ausberg pikemen have put me right off Christmas. I just don't think I'll bother any more. I suppose I should thought. Wouldn't want to disappoint you all. Today's advent calendar commemorates the Boston Tea Party of 1773. Well this should be interesting. Perhaps a man disguised as a native in the act of throwing a box overboard ... not exactly. It's a laughing Uncle Sam figure with a huge mug of coffee. Is that supposed to cheer me up?   

I'm in such a bad mood, I'm not even going to try my latest gift from the goodie bag. Pendraken are apparently going to offering a range called "you are the General." It's basically dress up clothes for wargamers. I'm not sure who mine is meant to be, could anyone help? There's a grenadier cap, one rough brown sandal (with no socks), a chain mail skirt and a t-shirt bearing the appellation "Hannibal does it with elephants." All this topped off with a blowpipe, bosun's whistle and a cloak made, if I'm not mistaken, from the feathers of starlings.

I'm going to cheer meself up with a dip into "FSN in Pendrakenland."


"I'm glad you're here." Red said, putting his arm around Lemmy's shoulder.

"Mmmm mmm mmmm?" Asked Lemmy, suddenly nervously aware that he'd run out of Lynx Africa three days ago.

"Well, I've just got the feeling that if you hadn't been there, it would have been me with an arrow through the chest, or scratched to death by flying monkeys or ..." 

"Leave it, son. There's plenty time for you to meet a gruesome end. I know the yellow plastic road is straight and has no intersections or junctions, but I wouldn't trust this tweet to get us lost." Bert disentangled Lemmy from Red's embrace. They ambled after FSN who was singing gustily,

"Sweet painted army,
Seems it's always been the same
Getting paid,
For being played,
Guess that's the name of the game."

"If he's given up using the right words, how will we know when he's singing 'Grey Seal' and so get to Clib him to deaf?" Pondered Red.

"We could always listen for the tune!" Offered Bert, and they all laughed. FSN heard the laughter and stopped. He waited as they ambled towards him, his arms folded, his foot aching to tap.

"Something amusing you, gentlemen?"  he asked, acid dripping from every word.

"Mmmm mmm mmm mmm mmmmmm m mmmmmm! Mmm mm mmmmm mmm mmm mmmm mmmm mmm!" Lemmy explained. The other two nodded in solemn agreement. FSN fizzled in impotent range, then led off, no longer in the mood to sing 'Grey Seal'.

It was a sullen quartet that continued. FSN leading far ahead, muttering about the miserable bar stands behind him, the miserable bar stand muttering about the student Cant ahead of them. The faster FSN walked, the angrier he got, and the angrier he got, the faster he walked. He got so far ahead, that he couldn't hear Bert's warning.

"C'mon you two, if he gets much further ahead of us, we'll be counted as out of contact with a leader and since he's already passed us off we'll ..." his words were cut off by the descent from the heavens of a large black regular shape which landed on the yellow plastic road between them and FSN.

"Frolic it!" Said Bert. "We're demoralised."

In front of the oversize die, FSN was demoralising his underwear. The huge die separated him from his support and he was now well and truly on his own. He ran to the die and beat upon it with impotent fists, he pushed the dots to see if his frantic and random pressing would open some secret cavern or recall the die to whence it came. Eventually he exhausted himself and sat on the yellow plastic road, his back against the die. His spirits had sunk to rock bottom, brought in a JCB and were excavating a new low.

"I wish I were back beyond the magnifying glass. I do, I do. I don't belong here. It's an awful place." He would have wept, but he was too dispirited even for that, so he took the ling from his pocket and cradled it, and sat, and rocked as all around him the darkness closed in.

"All the young girls love Alice," FSN's ears pickled up.  Was he really hearing what he thought he was hearing? A pause.

"Send me young Alice they say."  Yes. From the other side of the die. Voices, friends, companions!

"If I roll you a number will you come and relive me?" FSN sang. He heard muted tutting then:

"Wait till my husband's away." Oh yes! FSN's heart used the excavation as a launch pad, launched and soared into the emotional firmament. His boys, his men had not deserted him. They had stuck by him. He was truly a leader of men! Caesar, Alexander, Marlborough, Get2Grips, Montgomery and now FSN! He felt the die at his back shift and rise slightly.

"All the young girls love Alice," the voices were singing stronger now. Surely those on the other side of the die had felt it move. FSN joined in the song with gusto.

"Tender young Alice they say,
Come over and see me,
Come over and please me,
Alice, it's ..."

Bert's slap pulled him up short.

"It's gone. You can shut the frolic up."

"What was it?" Asked FSN.

"Was it a black obelisk from Space Oddyssey 2001?  Or a Black Eyebeast from Dairylea Triangle 3?" Asked Red.

"It was a giant frolicking die. Whole frolicking landscape is covered with carp these days. Someone gets a bit twitchy and next thing you know is these great big cubes come crashing down behind you. Bit unnerving at the best of time, but when you're not happy it doesn't frolicking help." FSN opened his mouth to sympathise, but Bert cut him off. "And if that isn't bad enough there's the rules. All the frolicking rules, plonked down on the terrain and you can't get round them, have to wait until the tweet that dropped them gets of his arts and move 'em." Again FSN tried to offer his sympathy.

"But if that's not enough, you're lumbered with lots of carp on your base." He gesticulated at his own feet. "You're not too bad, I may be flocked up to the tentacles, but some tweets lumber the lads with all sorts. Think how embarrassing it would be to turn up for a rumble and be sent home because the grass at your feet is the wrong sort! It's all wrong. I know some Soviet lads who have to lug a frolicking wall around with them." Again FSN made to interject, but Bert had not finished.

"AND they couldn't even claim to be in hard cover. Enfiladed wherever they went, carrying a frolicking wall around. Stalingrad my arts."

"Finished?" Asked FSN, kindly.

"Suppose so."

"Good. Now, perhaps you could tell us about this lot."  Bert raised his gaze and saw a group of shambling figures approaching. They were an hideous bunch – none of them properly painted, some of them with twisted or missing limbs, others with crude additions in putrid green or unhealthy grey. The worst stumbled blindly, the tops of their heads crudely hacked away.

"Frolic me! Conversions. They get fewer every time Pendraken release a new range, but they're always with us. Poor bar stands! They used to be proper soldiers once, till some evil fiend got his hands on them – fancied himself a Techno – and this is the result. "

Bert was on his feet and running, but more conversions were blocking the way. He clocked his Sten and stood ready to sell his life dearly. Red and FSN took their places beside him, a la Charlies' Angels in suitably martial poses. Lemmy was too slow, and was brought down by one of the conversions. Others piled on and Lemmy was ripped limb from limb. As each conversion took his piece of Lemmy, he affixed it to his own broken body. Sometimes the addition improved the conversion, sometimes it created a more hideous and malformed monster.   

"Oh my cod! They've killed Lemmy!" FSN shrieked. 

The conversions were not satisfied by the destruction of poor Lemmy. They shifted their attention to the remaining trio and slowly, stumbling and groaning circled their prey. Closer and closer they came.

"Is this the end?" Wondered FSN. Red shone his torch in a few eyes, but they wouldn't stop. Bert clocked his Sten again.

"Shoot them!" Screamed FSN.

"Can't!"

"Why not? Is it because you can imagine who they used to be?"

"Frolic that! This isn't a real gun." Bert held his Sten ready to Clib the conversions to deaf with the bat. Maimed hands reached for FSN, conversions limped and hopped and shuffled closer, and empty mouths gave voice to low, warning groans.

"We're done for!" Said Bert, felling a conversion by fetching him a fourpenny one.
Just as if it seemed the end was near, the conversions stopped. A low howl ran through the horde. Beneath it, a new could be heard. A drum of hooves, and a high pitched cry. At first the noise was indistinct, but as it drew nearer the cry could that FSN identified as "low-view, low-view".

"Do dwarf cavalry shout 'low-view'?" He asked.

"Nope. That sound you hear is us falling neatly from the frying pan into the fire. Even the conversions are scared of these bar stands."  True enough, the conversions had broken away and were shuffling away as fast as their various forms of locomotion could take them. "No one knows where they come from, probably some other dimension, for there's no one I know of would give them table room. What you hear isn't 'low-view' it's 'luv you'. What we're about to meet is the Love You Bears, and it sounds as if they're mounted on My Tiny Ponies."

The drumming became a rumble and FSN, Bert and Red stood ready to meet cavalry.   

 
How do you keep this up ?
Cheers - Phil