The road to Alan's Snackbar and other musings

[klondike]

I think I saw that on YouTube

Is this you Vlad?

[Vlad]

Similar...fart wise that is...

[Vlad]

Attention Attention we have an announcement from Vlad with regard to gnomes...are you sitting comfortably? ...then I will begin..


Friends, Romans and Country men, lend me you money I can't spend your ears! (Wasn't that a line from a Carry on Film?)
  
 I have been asked to speak to you by Tommy R on  a subject which many of you  will know to be of the very highest importance to the very survival of this country we love so well.
  
 I am here to tell you of a threat-an insidious poison which is eating at the  very fabric of our society like a flesh-eating, poisonous thingie. A threat , which will strike terror into you very soul  This is a threat more deadly than Hamas, more evil than an Iranian Ayatollah, more mendacious than the French and more cynically self-serving than a an ex MP claiming Parliamentary Privilege  I speak, my friends, of the sin of Gnome Owning ! (shock and horror from the audience)
  
 I can understand your shock. I know you all have gnomes in your street, perhaps even in your own gardens—friendly little fellows with wheelbarrows full of plants cradling quaint fishing rods in their gnarled hands and made in China on their bottoms.
 How can this  threaten us?' I hear you ask. And I answer, God bless you. You are the patriots  that I love—the people Tommy is honoured to serve from his prison cell. Your tolerance of the gnome in our midst is, at the same time, the defining virtue of the British character and our greatest weakness. I say yes, embrace the lonely stranger, the weak and the oppressed. Feel in his pockets, see if he is worth turning over for a few bob. But I say also take care he is not a snake in the nest or a cuckoo in the woodpile. (what?)

 How many gnomes  are there? Do you know? I have discovered there are already  twenty two gnomes for every man woman and child in England. Where are they all? You ask. Brothers and sisters—they are all around us! In every garden, by every garden pond , watching and waiting with their little slitty  eyes. Sitting outside migrant  hotels, leering and ogling our wimmenfolk and scaring the horses. 

 (Cries of 'lynch the evil buggers, from a man in a Beige Cardigan in the third row )

 Do not be fooled by the lefties who want nothing better than for all of us to keep a gnome  in our home whilst they hold evil and un British Acts with The Egg that THEY HAVE STOLEN!!!. The Egg is being  subjected to the most appalling depravities during which every conceivable perverted act is perpetrated upon his niceness, this talk of  gnomes is a distraction designed to distract us from finding and returning the Egg to the bosom of his family behind the bar of the Jockeys Nostril 
( oops sorry went a tad off track there that's another tale)
  
 So I say to enough chitter chatter about Eggs let us concentrate on those evil rosy cheeked Gnomes with fishing rods, I say unto you, lets us send a cry forward out into this land of ours 

' Shout Haddock and release the Cods of War'
  
  
 (The crowd erupts into angry shouts, a gnome like effigy is spontaneously produced from a large holdall with some 'well fancy finding that here' petrol. The effigy is burnt, someone spills petrol on his foot; there is a lot of running about and general panic.)
  
 Vlad continues
  
 I beg you, brothers and sisters and the undecided, not to take the law into your own hands. These simple measures are enough. There will be no need for you to use the pile of baseball bats behind the bar of the Jockeys Nostril to go on a wild rampage destroying gnomes and in revenge for the sufferings of the Last of the 7 Eggs of Destiny. (Oops there I go again)
Show these gnomes  good British tolerance one more time. Stop in the Jockeys Nostril on the way home tonight for a drink, have eight pints of 'Olde Wifebeater' and talk about this  threat . Then, if you still feel like kicking the crap out of them—well try not to get caught.
Good night posters of the forum. God bless you. God bless the King.
Thank you.
 
( a roar of applause and excited hand clapping erupts from a guy in a beige cardigan in the third row)