Star Wars Quix...f A O Mozz....
Film, Media & TV0 min ago
Mad Over Fifties Club
161 Answers
The Club is now open, welcome one and all! For tonight's festivities we have a celebration of 50 years of James Bond with the 007 Tailcock - certain to leave you both shaken and stirred. The Tapster also has a selection of brews from the Towers Stillroom for your delight and delectation. Scoff has again surpassed himself giving us the "Casino Royale Casserole" made with real casino chips as our "Hot Dish" this evening, as usual there is a selection of volly vonts and canapes and vegetarian dishes. On the pudding trolley is Moonraker Mousse with Goldfingers. The Minstrels will be playing their customary Madrigals and Fugues, and later they will be giving us a rousing rendition of all the Bond Themes - a real treat!
Sadly owing to overstretched elastic the bungee won't be operational this evening - we're still waiting for Greengrass (the gardener) to string the elastic bands together to make a cord long enough to bungee from the South Tower, however, we have installed a trampoline in the vestibule for any guests wishing to "bounce" (just be careful of the chandeliers). For your further delight Peppino and his performing Poodles will be giving us a performance in the Music Room.
Any guest wishing to take part in tonight's Sack Race is requested to put their name on the entry forms in the vestibule
My offering for the rofl tonight is 1 Overstretched bungee cord and half a dozen gold hands (fingerless)
A warm welcome is extended to all who dare enter the Towers this evening.
Sadly owing to overstretched elastic the bungee won't be operational this evening - we're still waiting for Greengrass (the gardener) to string the elastic bands together to make a cord long enough to bungee from the South Tower, however, we have installed a trampoline in the vestibule for any guests wishing to "bounce" (just be careful of the chandeliers). For your further delight Peppino and his performing Poodles will be giving us a performance in the Music Room.
Any guest wishing to take part in tonight's Sack Race is requested to put their name on the entry forms in the vestibule
My offering for the rofl tonight is 1 Overstretched bungee cord and half a dozen gold hands (fingerless)
A warm welcome is extended to all who dare enter the Towers this evening.
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The Odeon popcorn is greasy (unlike Nunagte's); I forgot to bring a Kleenex.
A pill that’s a gness-like bomb inside the stomach of tony inside
The AB Embassy blows up. Eruptions of flame, explosive volcanoes,
Excelsior star-trek gadget into motion. The entire 29-ft enchilada.
My screen is orange, is crackling of NoM pork and QoM brick bursting,
arm-bending, Lady J smithereened. I slug a voddie martini and, while
jouncing my teeth in mrs o tongue-twisting clove, try
with the 2-inch-wide paper to blot starbuckone coffee off my fingers.
A bubble-bath, room-sized, in which 14 AB girls, delectable
and full of sex, twist-topped Creamy Ices (Just One Cornetto).
Their blonde (volunteers?), brown, pinkish, lavender or silver wiglets all
screwed that high, and varnished, scrub-tickle the AB men's bones
One male, whose chest has just the right amount and distribution
tion of curly hair. He’s nervously pretending to defend
his modesty. His crotch, below the waterline, is also
below the frame—but unsubmerged all 28 slick foamy boobs.
Tony, call me James)
is his alter-ego name.
Their makeup fails to let the girls look naked. Caterpillar
lar lashes, black and thick, lush lips glossed pink like
the icedcoffee I booze, contact lenses on their Nonna eyes that are
mostly blue, they’re nose-perfect replicas of each other.
I’ve got most of the Popcorn grease off and onto this little square
of paper. I’m folding it now, making creases with my nails.
Nungate's Bond show is on at the Tower
MoFC - oh a so much better a shower.
A pill that’s a gness-like bomb inside the stomach of tony inside
The AB Embassy blows up. Eruptions of flame, explosive volcanoes,
Excelsior star-trek gadget into motion. The entire 29-ft enchilada.
My screen is orange, is crackling of NoM pork and QoM brick bursting,
arm-bending, Lady J smithereened. I slug a voddie martini and, while
jouncing my teeth in mrs o tongue-twisting clove, try
with the 2-inch-wide paper to blot starbuckone coffee off my fingers.
A bubble-bath, room-sized, in which 14 AB girls, delectable
and full of sex, twist-topped Creamy Ices (Just One Cornetto).
Their blonde (volunteers?), brown, pinkish, lavender or silver wiglets all
screwed that high, and varnished, scrub-tickle the AB men's bones
One male, whose chest has just the right amount and distribution
tion of curly hair. He’s nervously pretending to defend
his modesty. His crotch, below the waterline, is also
below the frame—but unsubmerged all 28 slick foamy boobs.
Tony, call me James)
is his alter-ego name.
Their makeup fails to let the girls look naked. Caterpillar
lar lashes, black and thick, lush lips glossed pink like
the icedcoffee I booze, contact lenses on their Nonna eyes that are
mostly blue, they’re nose-perfect replicas of each other.
I’ve got most of the Popcorn grease off and onto this little square
of paper. I’m folding it now, making creases with my nails.
Nungate's Bond show is on at the Tower
MoFC - oh a so much better a shower.
