Newsletter Articles

[mini-thumper]

Although I've not had the official letter of confirmation I assume that I will be putting together the newsletter from now on? Therefore could you all make an effort, however small, to send me something for the next issue which will be Spring 2009. I know that Graham always suffered from lack of articles and no doubt I'll be the same. Anything you can send, from a full-blown article to a couple of pictures with captions, will be most appreciated. I know you can all do it because I've read lots of good stuff on here already. You can e-mail me stuff at:

boyd_brooksathotmaildotcom

Thanks in advance.

Boyd
Editor-in-Chief The Thumper

[Steve Lake]

OK...new years resolution.......must do summat for the thumper rag

[guest7]

Here's my effort...

It was a dark and stormy night, but when the clouds parted a shaft of silver moonlight revealed the ghostly outline of a derelict priory. A figure in white, a young woman shivering in her wet clothes, stole along the rough-edged walls towards the only light for miles around, the sickly yellow glow of a tavern door.
The woman knocked nervously at the tavern, though scared by the rough voices within. A rough face appeared at the door, she saw it was a working man with a coarse beard flecked with grey. He looked her slowly up and down and she was alarmed to see a small dribble of saliva at the corner of his cracked lips.
"We don't oft see young wimmin at this time of the night" he said, in a gruff voice slurred by beer, "Oi be thinking, what with that slip o' a dress you be wearing and the cold of this dreeezle, that you be after wanting a pickled onion"
She smiled gratefully and slipped into the warmth of the room, in which a large group of old men sat huddled around a broad table. the room smelt of wet clothes and onions.
"I'm a, a, awfully sorry" she stammered, "my car broke down some miles back and..."
She stopped talking as every face turned towards her with a cold hard stare.
"A car you say" said a wild-haired man, "we b'aint be having no dealings with Caaaars, missus, you be on your way now... and you can leave that pickled onion right where you found it on that plate too"


GC

[robG]

A car you say" said a wild-haired man, "we b'aint be having no dealings with Caaaars, missus, you be on your way now... and you can leave that pickled onion right where you found it on that plate too"

"A side car you say " said a wild haired man from Bettws "We be having some dealings with sidecaaaars, missus,you come and sit down next to me and I'll show you my double adult  ....and you can get you laughing tackle round this here pickled onion 

[guest7]

"just one pickled onion" she slyly asked, "Is the other iin the Albert Hall?"
"No" said the wild-haired man, with a grimace, "it be entwined in the sprung workings of an Enfield saddle that... that..."
"go on, you can tell me, I'm a woman of the world" whispered the woman.
"A sprung Enfield saddle that collapsed once when I sat on it."

GC

[squirrelciv]

On it's way buddy

[mini-thumper]

NOTE TO SELF

Set aside several pages for the ramblings of GC and RobG. Actually quite funny and could form the basis of an on-going series, and GC and RobG has a certain ring to it. Promising stuff B+

[mini-thumper]

On it's way buddy

Cheers Pat!

BB

[robG]

go on, you can tell me, I'm a woman of the world" whispered the woman.
"A sprung Enfield saddle that collapsed once when I sat on it."

"ooooh ! You poor wild haired man , did it go down ? on your pickled onion " said the young woman ,wiping a tear
"Worse than that missus ! I trapped my gherkin ."said the wild haired man from Bettws 
The young woman let out a small squeak and instinctivly bit her thumb 
At this the wild haired man from Bettws , turned away from the young woman and reached into the pocket of his waxed cotton jacket. He chuckled quietly , as he pulled out a neatly folded purple paisley print handkerchief .He looked back at the young woman , snot running down his nose {JT!} and offered his hand ...
"Would you like to see it missus?, my precious gherkin ? I've kept it...." 
He lent forward , out of his specially provided substantial pub carver , a strange look in his eye :
"Few have laid eyes on my Gherkin since that day missus " 

[guest7]

"Oi!" cried the landlord from behind his elbow-worn, cigarette-burned wooden counter, "let 'er be, you fool"
Shamefacedly the wild-haired man carefully folded up his handkerchief and returned it to his frayed packet.
The landlord eyed him with a cold stare, "I'm sorry about that miss, he forgets his manners"
"Oh that's alright, I'm sure he meant nothing by it, he seems harmless"
One of the old boys at the table spluttered into his drink and the rest of the group went quiet. The landlord came out from behind the bar, took the young woman gently by the elbow and walked her away from the table.
"The thing is see" he whispered, "they all think they're tough bikers and frankly miss, they acts like children most o' the time"
"Oh how strange, bikers you say? but they look so, erm, normal"
"Normal miss! normal? Oh they're normal right enough. You see that one over there? him with the viking helmet on? Can you tell me what he does for a living?"
"Oh I can't say" simpered the woman, "he looks so strange and dangerous"
"Well I'll tell you, he's a policeman" And what about the one next to him, eating that leg of lamb skewered on a bayonet?"
"I'd noticed him, he scares mes a little" she replied, "He looks like an escaped convict"
"Aha! that'll please him no doubt. No miss, he's a software engineer or some such nonsense... don't believe me? watch this"

The landlord stood stock still waiting for his moment and when he judged the time right he quietly said just two words, "Star Wars" The effect on the bayonet wielding man was immediate, his sat bolt upright and started looking around the room with wild eyes.
"see", said the landlord, "a bloody techie if ever I saw one".
"Oh goodness, you're right, but what about him, there, that one drinking his beer out of a chalice?"
"Theology student miss"
"and him, the one with the strangely attractive moustache?"
"Kitchen fitter by day, gigolo by night miss"

[squirrelciv]

More! More!
When I read this, the landlord sounds like a pirate???

[robG]

"and him, the one with the strangely attractive moustache?"
"Kitchen fitter by day, gigolo by night miss"[/i]

The young woman looked again at the strangely attractive moustache.Sensing he was being looked at,he turned his head.The young woman tried to tear herself away , but found herself compelled to stare.Was it the froth dripping off the attractive moustache.Or the remarkable way that the light from the candles of the bar caused the magnificent forehead of the attractive moustached man to flash. 8)She looked away at last , embarrassed to say the least. She heard a noise.Looking back the attractive moustache was on his feet , candlelight flickering in the pair of huge spectacles worn by the man.He took a step towards her . Her heart began to race , what was happening .Suddenly the attractive moustached man stopped , lurched and fell , poleaxed to the floor and lay silent , face down amongst the sawdust and half chewed pickled eggs .
A strange calm fell across the assembly.Suddenly the peace was shattered as a noise similar to a camel belching erupted from the corner .
"Sorry 'bout that miss , I forgot him , he's another policeman "
"What!" questioned the young woman .
She was beginning to dispair.Suddenly the door opened again and in sauntered a large man , somewhat girthsome and with no hair .He walked up to the young woman and placed his hand into a bag he was carrying.
She sat , shocked at the image before her , as he produced his cured sausage,holding it upright .
" Fancy a slice my dear ,you'll not have better than my sausage "
She found him curious .Clearly educated ,but with some unrefined rough edges ,he was strangely atractive .He reminded her of Winston Churchill .    

[guest7]

"Rather" said the bedraggled woman, "I'd take the whole length given half the chance"
There was a sudden silence in the room but it was broken by the dry harsh cough of a man, older than the others, who appeared to be choking on his pickled egg
"Are you alright there Bruce?" asked the landlord
"yeth, fine" at which Bruce began coughing again as he made his way to the door.
"Don't mind him miss, he's prone to taking a turn when he's given a shock."
"A shock?" she asked, "did I do something wrong? I was merely telling this fellow how hungry I am. I've only had a Ginsters Buffet Bar since this morning"
"God lord!"
She looked to see who had spoken and saw that it was the moustached man who had risen to his knees. "My dear," he began, "you must eat, I can't bear to see such a lovely youn..." at which point he was knocked back to the floor by a blow to the back of his head from a chair that had been violently pushed aside as its owner stood up. It was the wild-haired man.
"Aha me lovely" he grunted with a lop-sided smile as he proffered a rusty tin box, "What you be after is a suck on a fisherman's friend"
"Oh no" said the startled woman, "I tried that once and it tasted salty"

[robG]

"Oh no " said the wild haired man of Bettws , too softly for comfort ,
"That was more likely an anglers mate ,suck on one of those and you find they're a different kettle of fish "
The bedraggled young woman was not so sure and gracefully declined ;
"I think I shall pass on this occasion "
"Please yourself " grumped the wild haired man of Bettws and turned and walked towards the door .
As he walked away ,the bedraggled young woman was struck with an unusual waft , was that really  a ring of s&*t on the wild haired mans coat  ? She dismissed the thought .She noticed he was somewhat unsteady as he made his way up the stairs,towards the door .
He started to struggle with the door ,four, five, six times he tried to force his way through , but tonight it was beyond him .A saviour in the form of Winston Churchill arrived , coming back to the room ,still clutching the remains of his sausage .
As he entered ,opening the door , the wild haired man from Bettws was struck backwards, the ornate door handle embedding itself in his not too modest belly, and  he fell from the stairs .
The man with the attractive moustache was rising to his feet , his glasses at an an obscure angle , his moustache coated in the remains of sawdust and pickled eggs . As he turned towards the sound of the commotion,he was once again pole axed, as the wild haired man of Bettws landed on him,from a height of some six feet ,pinning him to the floor .
The bedraggled young woman surveyed the scene , as efforts were made to free both men from the floor.Somehow the wild haired man of Bettws was now wearing the spectacles belonging to the man with the strangely attractive moustache.The effect was startling . His eyes appeared four times larger than normal . He clearly couldn't see , as he was helped to his feet.He slipped on a discarded gherkin ,which was apparently wrapped in a piece of paisley material. He fell forward and hit the floor . His right hand slipping neatly into the spittoon , to the right of the bar.

[Steffan]

At least it was her own car.......

 

Steffan

Very witty chaps if a bit sub-carry on.....

"A car you say" said a wild-haired man, "we b'aint be having no dealings with Caaaars, missus, you be on your way now... and you can leave that pickled onion right where you found it on that plate too"
[/i]

GC
[/quote]