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Bazzer
Setting the controls for the heart of the sun.
In the distance the rattle of an inhaler tumbling along the floor could briefly be heard. A Banshee wail pierced the sky, followed by "I'm really an accountant.", before the mist settled the world into silence.
The police officers ran to Accy and would probably been as to well to find the inhaler themselves, not for evidence, but to relieve their own gasping for breath. One turned to Accy and said, "WTF was that about sir?" His colleague jabbed him in the ribs; "Er you had better come to the car. as I see you have some physical limitations."
As they walked, or in Accy's case limped unsteadily, to the officers' car, Accy began to explain about his role as a butler to Lord D and how he had become involved in what was rapidly becoming quite a tangled story. The officers decide that Accy was a victim of circumstance and that it was probably better if they left him without charges.
Meanwhile McSteel had found a new vigour. A healthy bank balance and a new body, was just the fillip she needed to get this case solved, so she set out to track down Rebus and Lord D.
The police officers ran to Accy and would probably been as to well to find the inhaler themselves, not for evidence, but to relieve their own gasping for breath. One turned to Accy and said, "WTF was that about sir?" His colleague jabbed him in the ribs; "Er you had better come to the car. as I see you have some physical limitations."
As they walked, or in Accy's case limped unsteadily, to the officers' car, Accy began to explain about his role as a butler to Lord D and how he had become involved in what was rapidly becoming quite a tangled story. The officers decide that Accy was a victim of circumstance and that it was probably better if they left him without charges.
Meanwhile McSteel had found a new vigour. A healthy bank balance and a new body, was just the fillip she needed to get this case solved, so she set out to track down Rebus and Lord D.
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Drago
Legendary Member
...fudge. Strange, she thought, who would send me such a treat? She tore the package open to indeed find a pack of fudge, and a calling card. The Milk Fudge Man!
A bitter rivalry was born decades ago when Miss (then Mr) McSteel had revealed the Milk Fudge Man's true identity, as...
Lance '33' O'Classic, the Irish ninja philanderer. Clearly O'Classic had tracked her down, and was intending to strike fear into his victims hear before striking!
A bitter rivalry was born decades ago when Miss (then Mr) McSteel had revealed the Milk Fudge Man's true identity, as...
Lance '33' O'Classic, the Irish ninja philanderer. Clearly O'Classic had tracked her down, and was intending to strike fear into his victims hear before striking!
Oxo
Guru
McSteel bit into the fudge, it's Devonshire creamy taste caressing her taste buds, and then a bitter after taste. There's more to this fudge than meets the eye McSteel thought to herself as she slowly sank to the floor. This was the sight that greeted Lord Drago and his posse as they emerged from the mist.
Where was Accy?
Was this his handiwork?
Had he returned to the dark side from which Drago had rescued him all those years ago?
Or was the evidence against Accy purely circumstantial and other forces were at work?
Where was Accy?
Was this his handiwork?
Had he returned to the dark side from which Drago had rescued him all those years ago?
Or was the evidence against Accy purely circumstantial and other forces were at work?
OP
OP
User32269
Guest
Lance O'classic sat in Yorkshires finest dining establishment, he was not alone. Across the scratched formica table top, enjoying his breakfast of EPO, sunny side up, and devouring his fourth inhaler, sat Mr Froome. A gelatinous plate of tripe and mushy peas, looking forlorn in the glow of the paraffin lamp, sat untouched at his side.
"The coppers will collar that poor butler, leading them to the cursed Lord Drago, I have made sure of that," rasped O'classic.
"Now Froomey, me old mucker, will you join me in the outside toilet? I've got some pure MDMA in me cloak. I will inject it into your mouth, " he continued.
Froome's eyes lit up in anticipation.
"I've missed Yorkshire," he said.
"It's been so long since I had a bit of E by gum."
O'Classic allowed himself a half-smile, the plan was progressing nicely.
"The coppers will collar that poor butler, leading them to the cursed Lord Drago, I have made sure of that," rasped O'classic.
"Now Froomey, me old mucker, will you join me in the outside toilet? I've got some pure MDMA in me cloak. I will inject it into your mouth, " he continued.
Froome's eyes lit up in anticipation.
"I've missed Yorkshire," he said.
"It's been so long since I had a bit of E by gum."
O'Classic allowed himself a half-smile, the plan was progressing nicely.
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Bazzer
Setting the controls for the heart of the sun.
He knew that Lord D's passions could be easily roused by the delicious Carol's icons carried by Dr Froome. Talk of Carol and lycra was likely to make Lord D lose his senses. O'Classic just needed to find a way of controlling the Dr to do his dirty work for him. He might skinny, but his elbows were vicious and if he came at you with his favoured weapon, a Mont Blanc pen, as others had discovered to their cost, there was only going to be one winner.
Glancing around to make sure no one else was using the facilities, in the twilight of the outside toilet, O'Classic injected Dr Froome and then handed him a bulging jiffy bag.
"What's this?" asked the Dr, his face visibly recording the injected chemical coursing through his bloodstream.
"Don't worry", came the reply. "It's couriered from abroad, Pendle in Lancashire to be exact, by a biker mate who is just known as Doug and so is untraceable."
Dr Froome carefully tore the sealing strip and withdrew the package. Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to make sure the content of the package could not be easily recognised, as a zip lock bag and tissue paper further encased the object within.
Finally the object was revealed as....
Glancing around to make sure no one else was using the facilities, in the twilight of the outside toilet, O'Classic injected Dr Froome and then handed him a bulging jiffy bag.
"What's this?" asked the Dr, his face visibly recording the injected chemical coursing through his bloodstream.
"Don't worry", came the reply. "It's couriered from abroad, Pendle in Lancashire to be exact, by a biker mate who is just known as Doug and so is untraceable."
Dr Froome carefully tore the sealing strip and withdrew the package. Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to make sure the content of the package could not be easily recognised, as a zip lock bag and tissue paper further encased the object within.
Finally the object was revealed as....
Drago
Legendary Member
...Lance Armstrong's missing testicle, the one that, like Samson's hair, bestowed upon Lance Armstrong with super powers.
Indeed, such was the prowess of the now mono testiculated one when he had two plums, that he had made furious love to Mrs O'Classic, who had in turn named her son Lance in his honour.
Lance O'Classic was unaware of his parenthood, but he did know that with the powers gifted by the Armstrong testicle, Froome would finally have the chance of finally defeating Lord Drago, and his weasly little minion, the Butler Accy. O'Classic would then have a clear run at the delightful Ms. Vorderman, and shenwould at last become his concubine.
Indeed, such was the prowess of the now mono testiculated one when he had two plums, that he had made furious love to Mrs O'Classic, who had in turn named her son Lance in his honour.
Lance O'Classic was unaware of his parenthood, but he did know that with the powers gifted by the Armstrong testicle, Froome would finally have the chance of finally defeating Lord Drago, and his weasly little minion, the Butler Accy. O'Classic would then have a clear run at the delightful Ms. Vorderman, and shenwould at last become his concubine.
Reynard
Guru
Shouting wasn't getting her anywhere. Reynard donned her Raleigh Banana jersey, jumped onto her tiny little road bike and pedalled off in a flurry of knees and elbows after the disappearing trolley of pies.
"I bet it's Big Hair", she thought. "This is exactly the sort of thing she would do."
Determined to get her own back for the pork rib incident, she was off in hot pursuit.
"I bet it's Big Hair", she thought. "This is exactly the sort of thing she would do."
Determined to get her own back for the pork rib incident, she was off in hot pursuit.
Drago
Legendary Member
Chapter 69
Accy the Butler wasn't enjoying prison, although he was trying his best to make friends. He'd helped a chap out by picking up his soap in the shower block, and was rather startled when the guards beat him up and dragged him away.
The food was not good either. He wasn't sure that mashed newspaper was sufficient to maintain life and limb, although his blood-ink levels were doing well.
How to plan his escape?
Accy the Butler wasn't enjoying prison, although he was trying his best to make friends. He'd helped a chap out by picking up his soap in the shower block, and was rather startled when the guards beat him up and dragged him away.
The food was not good either. He wasn't sure that mashed newspaper was sufficient to maintain life and limb, although his blood-ink levels were doing well.
How to plan his escape?
classic33
Leg End Member
Was given extra incentive when an old copy of The Mirror was handed to him. He started his plans anew, "The Shawshank Method" didn't appeal to him, "The Alcatraz Method" was out due to being on dry land.
With hope renewed he set about his latest plan with a zeal last seen
With hope renewed he set about his latest plan with a zeal last seen
classic33
Leg End Member
In his bid for metal spoons, the only drawback being the metal detectors. How to throw doubt as to wether they were giving false alarms, that would be a task to consider later. For now plastic would have to do.
A change of diet maybe, hot chilli sauce meals, whilst listening to the radio would pass the time. Maybe even disguise what he was doing to the bars on his window.
Over the prison PA system came the song that every prisoner loves to hate.
A new vigour spurred him on, there was only so many times that he could listen to it.
A change of diet maybe, hot chilli sauce meals, whilst listening to the radio would pass the time. Maybe even disguise what he was doing to the bars on his window.
Over the prison PA system came the song that every prisoner loves to hate.
A new vigour spurred him on, there was only so many times that he could listen to it.
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