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By fans, for fans. By fans, for fans. By fans, for fans.

the first paragraph of your book


Molby

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Peter and myself sat down at the table and he relayed his ideas to me. Sipping at my drink, I listened and found myself intrigued. A couple of pints later, he asked if I wanted to help out with the development of the site. I eagerly answered 'yes' and away we went. If I knew then how much time I'd have wasted since then, I would have said 'Not on your f***ing nelly' instead.

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As his tracker disappeared in the distance, following the spoor of another Bull Elephant destined to perish in the merciless focus of his rifle, Malcolm Olby wondered when man would finally conquer this wilderness. When would the simple lifestyle of the natives make way for the free wifi and political correctness that had made weaklings of the denizens of one of his homelands? 'Not on my watch', thought Malcolm as his thoughts drifted to the primitive Speed Dating night he had arranged with some antelope, and musings of which property of his would play host to that once proud bull elephant.

Edited by cymrococh
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As his tracker disappeared in the distance, following the spoor of another Bull Elephant destined to perish in the merciless focus of his rifle, Malcolm Olby wondered when man would finally conquer this wilderness. When would the simple lifestyle of the natives make way for the free wifi and political correctness that had made weaklings of the denizens of one of his homelands? 'Not on my watch', thought Malcolm as his thoughts drifted to the primitive Speed Dating night he had arranged with some antelope, and musings of which property of his would play host to that once proud bull elephant.

 

 

aces

 

apart from shooting elephants that will do me nicely

 

I got within 6 feet of elephants yesterday. They're quiet and dignified.

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"Mmmmm this meat is cooked nicely" , said billy bob Thornton.

"Yes, it sure is." Said Ben Affleck.

Then the waiter came to their table with the wine list.

"I'll have two big bottles of French champagne for me and my buddies please" said Steve buscemi without even looking at the wine list.

"I hope we don't get drunk and have sex" said Liv Tyler, "my dad will go spare, and he is in Aerosmith."

Everyone looked at Bruce willis who had stayed quiet, but had a wry smile on his face " I think we should all chip in and buy an oil rig" he said.

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Fighting the urge to jump out of the car in which he was sat, Jan gripped the steering wheel and turned the key. The engine hummed into life. He put the car into gear, and pulled out of the side street, towards the main road. He took one last glance at the bewildered man in a cheap sports jacket who was still walking around the car park and frantically pressing the keys on his Nokia 3460. Jan accelerated into the main road out of town. He permitted himself an audible laugh and leant over to the back seat.

 

"He's come all the way from New York." Jan gurgled.

 

In the back, a young girl lay, her mouth covered with masking tape.

 

"Methinks you've had enough excitement today, young lady." said Jan. "Let's get you home."

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"f*** off, you c***!"

"No, you f*** off, you c***!"

"Who are you telling to f*** off and calling a c***, you c***"

"You, you c***"

"Don't you tell me to f*** off, you c***"

"I'll tell you to f*** off if I want to, you c***"

"f*** off!"

"c***!"

"c***!"

It wasn't the first night of marriage that Hassony had imagined but she was a spritely sort and that boded well.

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He was shaking with anger.

 

"Youse are all g*******s", he screamed at the screen, his fingers tapping furiously at the keys of his laptop.

 

There it was again, leaping out at him from the screen, another post singing his praises, talking about his tactical nous, another game won. They were incessant, obsessed, he was here alone fighting against a tide of ignorance and blasphemy.

 

At times he wearied of the battle but he knew he had been given the high honour of taking the fight to the Rafatollah and his acolytes. He had happily accepted the challenge of proving theirs was a false God and to bring them back into the light.

 

He wiped the spittle from his chin, they would not win he thought grimly. The Liverpool Way would prevail.

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I wondered if my neighbours would be in to swinging

 

I wondered for 5 years and then one day I thought "f*** it, just ask them!"

so I knocked, with a bottle of champagne and a bag of Charlie

 

 

 

in retrospect, what was I thinking?

 

Is that the start of your book or just some random confession?

 

:)

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So there he was. Eldridge Cleaver. Sitting alone on the bench. Two menacing bodyguards milling around but keeping a watchful eye on things. The menacing Panther was long gone and a tired old man was sitting there, weary from the abuse he received, night after night.

 

"Was it you who wrote that in the elevator?" he asked.

 

"It was. And I'm proud of it too Mr. Cleaver" I said.

 

"So you should be" he replied. "King Kenny really is a God isn't he? He deserves to be deified for sure. Damn he brought colour to my life when I watched him on TV in my drab East German apartment".

 

"That must have been tough living" I said in an effort to relate to him more.

 

"Go and f*ck off now you sad motherf*cker. Don't think you're my buddy" he rasped.

 

I got up and walked.

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So. This is it? I have no currency and nothing to help me pass the time, banged up in this s***-hole, all cos f***ing politicians; that I'm not aloud to vote for; say I can't smoke in smokey.

 

Well, I'm not sticking this s***. I'm not just gonna make the place smoke. I'M GONNA MAKE THE f***ING PLACE BURN!

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