Quizzes & Puzzles0 min ago
Mad over Fifties Club
259 Answers
The Club is now Open
Welcome once more to each and every one of you.
I am sure that the fort was held in excellent and robust fashion in my absence and that Matron and the Butler did all the necessary paperwork and stocktaking at the end of proceedings.
So far for tonight's raffle I have:
Four dressings (large, non-adhesive)
Three tubes of Savlon
Two rolls of cotton wool
and 54 plastic pinnies.
I have had no word yet of a speaker this evening, but no doubt a member will step into the breach if no one turns up.
Now where are my raffle prizes from the last 2 weeks ?
Welcome once more to each and every one of you.
I am sure that the fort was held in excellent and robust fashion in my absence and that Matron and the Butler did all the necessary paperwork and stocktaking at the end of proceedings.
So far for tonight's raffle I have:
Four dressings (large, non-adhesive)
Three tubes of Savlon
Two rolls of cotton wool
and 54 plastic pinnies.
I have had no word yet of a speaker this evening, but no doubt a member will step into the breach if no one turns up.
Now where are my raffle prizes from the last 2 weeks ?
Answers
Best Answer
No best answer has yet been selected by ladyalex. Once a best answer has been selected, it will be shown here.
For more on marking an answer as the "Best Answer", please visit our FAQ.
The main offering, the third of the Castle Olympic Games series.
"The Closing"
And despite all the ballyhoo—the Castle Games
and the tailcocking, Zac beers and the Sqad wounds,
the Mamya buffet and Alec lamentation,
the glaring Polarbear lights sparkling, the Castle moat.
The gloom of AlexanderEd’s silence descends —we stand awed
by the impossible dialogue of the grandest Over 50s tall tales, the gathering of ABers within the Castle walls,
the devouring of Voltra-Vons and mini-Meltons.
The Saturday rituals conceived and preserved in lard
by the Nungates and Daisys, stalwarts of our tribe. Catacombs of isolated closets in the hovels of the LieInKing,
hidden in the shadow of silence before Lady A’s encrusted words.
Here the closed-in AB world is shattered
by the noise of the Invisible Games Guests travelling across the moat,
the woods, crafty entrances, with flumpy patois and Mrs O’s dialects diverse,
Traci myths, Naomi faiths, Jemisa jokes, ratter thirsts, AB hungers, to arrive
in this temple of the Castle, this place
where we become AB children again,
filled with tinksy wonder, NoM dreaming and jealousy,
giddy with power in our tilly leaps and vodka cooking skill.
We learn again to love and tenrec jest,
to lick our croc bitten wounds and gloat,
to learn the perils of sibton power and owdhamer test,
the din of trolls amassed at the AB borders.
The venerable AB assistance of the noteef weak,
the miracle of AB bodies reduced to
flabby Tony arsey “muscle”, sweat, wyedyed nerves and tears,
the equalizing humility of the Slinky single lane,
of the open Castle games field, of the clean
sheet of rippling moat circles, the wooden horsehoes court
the cool Humber sand, the Seadogg waterways, the petal fields of play the open Excelsior fields of mcfluffy hay.
We ABers are coming…
We ABers are coming
London…
not bad
not bad at all
The Castle far better
Rio…perhaps
season the Talbot drums,
tune up Eccles’ claviola,
polish RockyRaccoon’s pandeiro,
oil Ann’s waistline,
simmer the Alba moqueca.
Pour tailcocks at the throat tree root,
appease the Lady J elbow wounded,
pour TTFN gasoline flames on the Castle rivers;
Gness, please let them burn, let them burn, Phew no A&E.
We are coming….the 2016 Castle Games
we will soon come around again….the Castle Games/ Bawdy songs, feasting banquets and tailcock rains, the ancient Castle Games that surpass any Olympic flames.
"The Closing"
And despite all the ballyhoo—the Castle Games
and the tailcocking, Zac beers and the Sqad wounds,
the Mamya buffet and Alec lamentation,
the glaring Polarbear lights sparkling, the Castle moat.
The gloom of AlexanderEd’s silence descends —we stand awed
by the impossible dialogue of the grandest Over 50s tall tales, the gathering of ABers within the Castle walls,
the devouring of Voltra-Vons and mini-Meltons.
The Saturday rituals conceived and preserved in lard
by the Nungates and Daisys, stalwarts of our tribe. Catacombs of isolated closets in the hovels of the LieInKing,
hidden in the shadow of silence before Lady A’s encrusted words.
Here the closed-in AB world is shattered
by the noise of the Invisible Games Guests travelling across the moat,
the woods, crafty entrances, with flumpy patois and Mrs O’s dialects diverse,
Traci myths, Naomi faiths, Jemisa jokes, ratter thirsts, AB hungers, to arrive
in this temple of the Castle, this place
where we become AB children again,
filled with tinksy wonder, NoM dreaming and jealousy,
giddy with power in our tilly leaps and vodka cooking skill.
We learn again to love and tenrec jest,
to lick our croc bitten wounds and gloat,
to learn the perils of sibton power and owdhamer test,
the din of trolls amassed at the AB borders.
The venerable AB assistance of the noteef weak,
the miracle of AB bodies reduced to
flabby Tony arsey “muscle”, sweat, wyedyed nerves and tears,
the equalizing humility of the Slinky single lane,
of the open Castle games field, of the clean
sheet of rippling moat circles, the wooden horsehoes court
the cool Humber sand, the Seadogg waterways, the petal fields of play the open Excelsior fields of mcfluffy hay.
We ABers are coming…
We ABers are coming
London…
not bad
not bad at all
The Castle far better
Rio…perhaps
season the Talbot drums,
tune up Eccles’ claviola,
polish RockyRaccoon’s pandeiro,
oil Ann’s waistline,
simmer the Alba moqueca.
Pour tailcocks at the throat tree root,
appease the Lady J elbow wounded,
pour TTFN gasoline flames on the Castle rivers;
Gness, please let them burn, let them burn, Phew no A&E.
We are coming….the 2016 Castle Games
we will soon come around again….the Castle Games/ Bawdy songs, feasting banquets and tailcock rains, the ancient Castle Games that surpass any Olympic flames.
