December 18th, 2008

Eddie Izzard: British

Why the UK lost its bloody empire

athena25 comes up with a new game for the whole family this Christmas:

"Oh no! It's the Festive Season, but your present has been kidnapped by the Kafkaesque Faceless Bureaucracy of The Royal Mail - can you thwart their diabolical puzzles and machinations in order to get your gift before The Fat Man arrives?

This is a game for at least two players. The total number of players is in theory unlimited, but beginners are advised to start with only two lest they become quivering wrecks. The goal of the game is to get your Christmas Present before you collect so many Frustration Points (FP) so that you turn into MegaAngryPreChristmasRagePerson and kill everyone in sight then explode.

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Context is barking and biting the postman's ankles.

The horror...the horror...

ginmar's on a roll, or her cats are, as yet another cat-ass-trophe looms:

OMG, Jezebel just farted so bad I looked around to see if she'd had an accident. It woke Abbie up. The curtains flapped. The furnace shut down. My eyelashes got singed. I don't have eyebrows any more. Books fell off the bookshelves. Everything in the freezer melted. The house smells like a tuna warehouse. My hair changed color. My vision changed. I have no cilia left. My TV is now analog. My fingernail polish peeled off. In Washington George Bush perked up and said, "I TOLDJA!" The windows are blurry now. The snow melted in a circle around my house. My compost piled sprouted fully-formed saplings. The birds flew away. The squirrels dropped their peanuts. Cupboard doors slammed shut. Bubble wrap melted with little hisses. Everything plastic in the house melted. There's a smell of sulfer in the air. A demon just rose from through the floor and enquired, "You rang? Oh, shit, man, forget it." A lightning bolt sliced through my house from Heaven. Dogs barked for a three-mile radius. A live bullet I accidentally left in the kitchen drawer went off and killed a crack dealer a mile away. A train derailed. Alcohol at the bar down the way exploded into flames. The other cats went bald. CArs got flung in the air. My ears rang and I got slammed up against the wall. I had to pluck the other cats from the whirling cyclones in the room by their tails and throw them in the bathroom.

I can't report on the condition of anything lower than my waist because there's clouds of what appear to be gray smoke filling the lower level of the house. I'm not sure I even have floor any more. The temperature outside suddenly rose above freezing.

There's sirens outside and firemen knocking on my door and the SWAT team outside. Oh, wait, they're keeling over as the stench billows out the mail slot. Birds are tumbling from the air. Mice are leaping through the broken windows away. Stray cats are fleeing. The houses in the neigbhorhood have changed color. The HAZMAT team has arrived.

Jezebel has retired to her box, looking entirely too smug.

Quoted with permission. Context thought it had love, but it was just gas...