The -Yoghurt Story- Collective.

[Invictus_88]

Maybe I'll just live as a recluse, and drop the whole philosopher/lawyer thing.

sad Though really, recluse-ness may be rather good fun for a bit..  

[Darth Buttsecks]

Invictus_88

Maybe I'll just live as a recluse, and drop the whole philosopher/lawyer thing.

sad Though really, recluse-ness may be rather good fun for a bit..

Seems to me like you are living as a recluse, with as much time you spend on the internet. Do you even have any friends? xd  

[Shadow of an Illusion]

Timeless Visage

Invictus_88

Maybe I'll just live as a recluse, and drop the whole philosopher/lawyer thing.

sad Though really, recluse-ness may be rather good fun for a bit..

Seems to me like you are living as a recluse, with as much time you spend on the internet. Do you even have any friends? xd

xd You can talk.  

[Darth Buttsecks]

ice_illusion

Timeless Visage

Invictus_88

Maybe I'll just live as a recluse, and drop the whole philosopher/lawyer thing.

sad Though really, recluse-ness may be rather good fun for a bit..

Seems to me like you are living as a recluse, with as much time you spend on the internet. Do you even have any friends? xd

xd You can talk.

Shush you.  

[Invictus_88]

Timeless Visage

Invictus_88

Maybe I'll just live as a recluse, and drop the whole philosopher/lawyer thing.

sad Though really, recluse-ness may be rather good fun for a bit..

Seems to me like you are living as a recluse, with as much time you spend on the internet. Do you even have any friends? xd

We've been through this before.

I used to be more popular than most of you suckers, but due to my gap year most of my firends have gone to university. Those that are still here do keep in touch and we go out for the occasional drink, but we all have work and study to do as well.

Unlike you, we have futures to carve.

wink  

[Darth Buttsecks]

Invictus_88

Timeless Visage

Invictus_88

Maybe I'll just live as a recluse, and drop the whole philosopher/lawyer thing.

sad Though really, recluse-ness may be rather good fun for a bit..

Seems to me like you are living as a recluse, with as much time you spend on the internet. Do you even have any friends? xd

We've been through this before.

I used to be more popular than most of you suckers, but due to my gap year most of my firends have gone to university. Those that are still here do keep in touch and we go out for the occasional drink, but we all have work and study to do as well.

Unlike you, we have futures to carve.

wink

Ahem, low blow, but far from true. Just because I'm in a univeristy doesn't mean I don't have my future to care. wink

And I do hope you weren't taking me seriously, I'm never really serious when I say things like that. And are you sure you were more popular than I was? You don't even know me, Invictus. wink  

[Cleocatra]

MEIN EYES!  

[Ithaya]

Well...I copied up the next part for you.

Quote:

''Lemon curry?'' exclaimed the bewildered mashmallow viking, who was righteously a famous juggling pianist architect with no teeth and very few Iron Maiden albums.His packet of Nebelstern sized condoms were burned and were lost forever.
Meanwhile, in China the arctic ladybirds were eating Spain and Portugal with a side of Mexico. "RAWR", said Owen, who was annoyed over allegations relating to his ability to RAWR without dribbling. Simon couldn't RAWR what-so-ever without dribbling. Meanwhile Whapcapn couldn't RAWR without dribbling. Meanwhile Gaulia, without dribbling, couldn't RAWR. Meanwhile Invictus RAWR'd, dryly! while dribbling. However Angilwingz simply exploded. "RAWR", said Illy whilst secreting saliva. Meanwhile, in Chile, Francis said "RAWR" and also exploded.
First, however, lexicons inspired saxophone fiber to rearrange into an ironic apparatus designed for prostate yet resembling yoghurt (that doesn't make any sense) in a rather baroque fashion. Strangely around my hat, was not heard sounds of buffalos
(THISMAKESNOSENSEPEOPLE!SOCANWEJUSTPLEASESTARTOVER?
P.S.SORRYFORSTEALINGGAULIA'STHING BUTIAMVERYCONFUSED)
Catriona tells lies! Said doctor Saw while sitting in a large CD labelled Metallica. They wallowed gracefully towards Michael D rockin' up yon wurzel-tree in the Dail.
Oi sees 'im Mo Iezu Ni~~~!
Stop quoting lyrics. Simon, you oddity.
Harriet the hamster met mickey mouse one summer's day inside a large yet strangely cozy cave. They decided to hurl multicoloured Michael D. ballot papers at penguins covered in marmallows. ''BENZIN!!!!!!'' they hollared with great alacrity and proceeded to tar and feather every surrounding being including several cadets
who were coincidentally Tony Blair supporters.
Hetty the hen laid a creme-egg concealed within layers of inevitably mistreated yet somehow auspicious lingerie, although it was somehow tantalizingly tragic and mysterious.
All of a pot of yoghurt

 

[Ithaya]

And, having a strange desire to do nothing of use, I shall continue to copy it up.

Quote:

All of a pot of yoghurt committed indictable offences against a highly respected gay. Arnold was interrupted and consequently fell face lard mother inquest.
Years later, in creamy, natural, sexy tar, my mother swam almost frantically through a swarm of highly poisonous buttocks. Although somewhat bedraggled, she clawed manically at the large bosom of infinitesimal grains of wheatgerm which trembled enticingly and proceeded to agonize over the age-old problem of whether age-old was actually age-old, despite various legal quick-sand retaining issues.
Suddenly, incandescent floating tomatoes told us ridiculously smelly quantities of toxic lard on new year's eve just might encapsulate our brains.
Notwithstanding the implications of yoghurty maidens' virtue, or lack thereof. The latter was more exciting for all! Yoghurt, O how noble! O yoghurt, divine! How wond'rous a a gloop to the fat controller who was inevitably, nay, unavoidably, immersed in purple, yoghurt-coated loveliness.
A squonk leapt freely towards the large lady who grabbed hold-of the terrified squonk's daughter.
NNNNGH walked into a lamp-post "ouch" said NNNNGH who then ate NNNNG's arch-enemy NNNGH. Everyone was rather amused, really. Though NNNGH thought it somewhat less so. Having eaten NNNGH, overly zealous ham and others, NNNNGH popped. Though fortunately NNNNGH was not seriously injured. He did, however, ingest terribly large amounts of fat. Betty, his step-uncle, suddenly imploded, with enormous ramifications on the west side, insofaras lightly oiled transvesites may be portly but certainly don't have much aplomb.
Meanwhile, people's sanitywas never better! Well, according to extremely reliable resources. Namely: Patrick O'Brien, Barry Manilow, and W.G. Grace (deceased).
Heterogeneous fools seldom elope with extra cheese. For extra cheese was cetainly worth its own elopement. Notwithstanding the multitude other dairy products also eloped, despite the protests of said multitude.
Ontic mobile phone holders established a rapport with a truly deep inner sense of the art of biscuit dunking, which ere long morphed into bizzarely

 

[and_solo_said]

Shouldn't this be stickified?  

[Invictus_88]

and_solo_said

Shouldn't this be stickified?

*claps hands once*

'tis done.  

[Angilwingz]

ok....here's the next bit.

up to page 86

fatuous clouds of strawberry flavoured yoghurt. Thereafter, miscellaneous skullduggery was rampant in Illy's brain, despite Invi's attempts at emulsifying the former by soliciting aid for illicitly paid bundles of overly irrevocably Belgian artists (Dear sweet Jesus), artists of porn. Solo entered, unexplainedly. while Presbytarian shits floated, inexplicably, among the general populace. This caused incalculable filthiness. The government didn't do an unfortunately large lady without reasonable justification due to widespread moral fibre (ish!). The sickening repercussions when sporks were forcefully thrusted between Jack and Sally were evident for NNNNGH, whom by Jack and Sally was introduced to the delights of yoghurt-abuse, anally. This caused him internal bleeding but also intense joy. Albeit only until the neurofen kicked his brains out. It must be quite a surprise to unearth one's Spigot mortar emplacement when looking for spiritual enrichment and some disgustingly pleasant root vegetables and hopping madly along the grave of some old guy called Desmond. Whilst Desmond ran rampant amongst shocked andbewildered naturists, a circus closed down because of Jess. Jess' sister, however bad things got, ate elephants for England, regardless of Siam's complaints. Johnagoad, that theiving b*****d with his lithe and offensively tall stinkhorn, was not particularly supple around the dorsal region. Subsequently, a new

 

[Angilwingz]

Woops, I edited the first post and it de-stickied it.  

[illyrianth]

up to page 90

deadly sin developed, making Angil cry buckets full of sexy yoghurty love in an arousing but also bemusing and somehow enriching bi-monthly erotica magazine. Angil chopped parsnips while still crying the aforementioned love in an arousing but also bemusing and somehow enriching, yet hopelessly naive red telephone box. This happened suddenly, yet contradictorally slowly, through mounds of yoghurt coated raisins and smudged CDs. Interestingly for her, the journalist was naked, except for his tweed suit jacket. The rest had been shredded. Her eyes wandering, toward his briefcase which was, inexplicably, not a briefcase, pink and round with uninteresting green mellow pears, she made bizarre noises, much like an over inflated mongoose, or currency. Despite the ironically positioned foot of a footofa, she marched in concentric circles and promptly expired. The surrounding desert melted in an alarmingly inappropriate fashion, causing Bernice to eat his own table lamp. However, this was entirely unnecessary, as elephants would universally agree, due to Bernice's extreme right-wing tendencies and unnaturally sexualised upper ventricle, which was yoghurt based. As indeed you would believe aardvarks

 

[Ithaya]

Up to Page 108

and squirrels would copulate without forewarning when yoghurt is too freely available. Indeed, we British love to queue to watch this unbelievably irritating politician commit similar acts. It was argued by pseudo-intellectual turnips that empirical evidence was utter bullshit.
Invi has alwasy revered his uncles in such a way as to positively infuriate the gawking journalist's wife called Gertrude. Fortunately, Gertrude fell dead, to the horror of right thinking salads and stuff.
When considering yoghurt as a garment(,) it is unwise to proceed without an impliment of world domination.
Such carpeted walls as Mr. Featherstone-Hawe's were very pink, very.
The sin of Man's eternal pride can only be with enormous tweezers.
After falling asleep(,) elephants should never usually explode, though the more corpulent and belligerent of the clergy mafia often exploit these pachiderms, should they find reason to want sweet sweet yoghurt in a most inverted leaf.
When considering the implications of yoghurt there are reptiles created ex nihilo by profane and dark entities, like Sam the bob-sleigher or Paddy Ashdown.
Following their demise, the LibDems licked some sickly sweet badgers. There was an undeniable shortage of actual sense of these, however, and Henry, doubtful of Man's capacity to drink copious amounts of banana banana banana bananananananana, didn't mention Gwen. Gwen was enraged and turned herself into a large, and nebulous cloud of painfully oblivious spotted d**k and rabid butterfly proboscides. "Proboscides are yummy", Invictus claimed, humming the National Anthem in retrograde epitomising (the wrong one) and shovelling down turnips, into a vile pit of semi-human creatures, squirming in a leisurely and perambulatory contrivance, quite thoroughly searching for love. *sigh* Love, however, eluded the vile clutches of Mary Whitehouse in a bikini rather too droopy. This may be irrelevant, but considering the current weather, one must always avert one's eyes from droopy bras, so they say. I however, say that one's clavicle should not droop. Things that droop inevitably discourage yoghurty infatuations, causing untold damage to the left hemisphere of World Yoghurt Manufacturing. Those corporate bastards hated droopy appendages and took drastic multi-coloured lemurs into a small, yet brown cow.
Cawing silently on the topic of pre-marital trainspotting fiascos, Henry was unable(,) when he had to spin around and land on Franics, to reproduce. Francis was relieved of his terrible sense of enlightenment and odd rash.
When thinking about bizzare and unrelated yoghurt induced hallucinations(,) the journalist united Edam cheese with a rather soft, slightly green souffle. The results surpassed Francis' wildest dreams ((and we have a hundred pages!)). These dreams eluded the butterfly catcher in his halls of melting marble. Marble crafted from congealed yoghurt, obviously. Any other sort would be silly.
Having establised that the butterfly-catcher temaed up with three catastrophically cacophonic coconuts, it was only a matter of gratuitous gay-bashing and amusing abuse of fermented lactacious substances became the accepted form of coitus.
In understanding this, we may assume that NNNNG's life was wasted.
Butter can't replace yoghurt(,) however hard one's financial circumstances are. Rabbits, however, are allergic to both. This is partially(,) but not completely(,) due to the commercial quality of General Sherman's custom of wearing lingerie.
For no reason, a rabid homonculus refrained from yoghurt, the weirdo ascetic.
Mein po schmertzen.
It was ridiculous, the local shop only spoke German. How rude! German! In Wokingham! Bloodyknickers everywhere... EWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!!!! Indeed I felt mortified at his hideous taste for knickers with menstrual tendencies to emulsify such nonsensical things. This was especially oderous, having been eaten decades ago.
Chelmsford on Fridays is bloody awful, therefore I concede. In doing so condeming myself to marrying several dwarves waist downwards.
NNNNGH appeared once more, only to discover his stupid name was not, in conclusion. Yet it made no difference.
The Minister grunted a surprisingly revolting orgasmic noise when he saw Illy's amusingly shaped toy car, which resembled a tiny duck. This duck, p***s, was often used as a meal. He tasted of lemon curry and bisto. Therefore, evidently they farted, loudly.
Like 'hende' Nicholas sharp mounds upon him reflected his reflection upon reflectors.
"Woof!" shouted Borg, the resident cheese-eating surrender poodle. He was excited by NNNNGH's wenches, Sir Menzies Campbell was the manwench and hailed from Glasgow, bloody chav. "Woof," for some reason, was his mating call. Ugh.
Og hseg gren mainly decompositional ox ate your ground-screw.
Meanwhile, up there under the great golden goose, it imploded gracefully and showered crystalline embers of fat over a large hat called Jimmy Hatson. "Hello Jimmy Hatson!", said Jimmy Hatson, his stalker/ imitater. This was simply due to Jimmy being rather wide, Hatson tactfully avoided another Jimmy Hatson. Because Hendry Flotsom (aka Jimmy Hatson) (or St. John Muffonlegs) (Also Herman Kfwible) made cauliflower yoghurt.

From here on...(third post).