
One trick is to tell stories that don't go anywhere. Like the time I caught the ferry to Shelbyville. I needed a new heel for m'shoe. So I decided to go to Morganville, which is what they called Shelbyville in those days. So I tied an onion to my belt, which was the style at the time. Now, to take the ferry cost a nickel, and in those days, nickels had pictures of bumblebees on 'em. 'Gimme five bees for a quarter,' you'd say. Now where were we... oh yeah. The important thing was that I had an onion on my belt, which was the style at the time. I didn't have any white onions, because of the war. The only thing you could get was those big yellow ones...
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Sat 20 May 2017, 21:54,
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with 'spong' written on his forehead after a b3ta bash.....was that you, Lumpbucket?
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Sat 20 May 2017, 21:58,
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wearing a centurion's uniform and the word CUNT written on his forehead.
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Sat 20 May 2017, 22:52,
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I am sure I once saw a photo of him lying in the middle of the road with his breastplate, sword n all, semi-passed out. Wasn't it after a party at Smirny's in Camden?
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Sat 20 May 2017, 23:11,
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Here's Ijon the following morning, already a half-bottle of vodka up, apparently shoving a sword down Darkedge's throat.

Shortly after this, he was last seen running out of the greasy spoon we had just ordered food in. He stopped, let out a mighty roar, and ran off somewhere through Camden Town.
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Sun 21 May 2017, 0:07,
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Shortly after this, he was last seen running out of the greasy spoon we had just ordered food in. He stopped, let out a mighty roar, and ran off somewhere through Camden Town.

But that's the puppy. Cheers, Glis. Hope all's well with you.