Re: Jimmy Nail song as sung in Auf Wiedersehen -- Welcome to the Jimmy Nail Message Board

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Date Posted: 06:52:28 11/08/03 Sat
Author: blunt menchley
Subject: Re: Jimmy Nail song as sung in Auf Wiedersehen
In reply to: Pata Chewch 's message, "Re: Jimmy Nail song as sung in Auf Wiedersehen" on 05:45:44 11/05/03 Wed

>>>>>>>fuck me ragged. i'll gladly put you out of your
>>>>>>>misery. where do live? do you own a gun? who is
>>>your
>>>>>>>next of kin?
>>>>>>
>>>>>>Here Here. Well Said blunt. I think we should
>>find
>>>>>>their allotment and piss on their cabbages.
>>>>>
>>>>>
>>>>>What are you lot on about? I haven't got an
>>>>>allotment...
>>>>
>>>>
>>>>well that fucks that up then. have you got a shed?
>>>
>>>Can somebody sell my trench coat for me? It doesn't
>>>fit anymore and it gives me herpes every wednesday
>>>followed by psychotic episodes of memory loss.
>>
>>$$$$$$Does anybody know where my pen is? And does
>>anybody know the the name of the number Jimmy belts
>>out in the film version of 'Hitler's Cabaret' when
>>he's sitting on Anthony Newley's knee eating margaret
>>cake?? I really really really need it.
>
>
>My van is annoying when it purges tart gas out of a
>blind funnel in Glasgow last Tuesday. Closing it's
>russian thatch it can blind thug mice and twenty paces
>in a stormy puss haven.
>
>Too late! The bile duct closed for business with it's
>over rampant sack twisting a milkshake tube of
>innocence and butter.
>
>Twitch me.
>
>Last time I saw your pen, it was going to Benidorm.
>
>Jimmy Nail is alive, well and sucking on my yunky Mars
>substitute.

i'm in this kiosk and there's a little hatch where masses of people are collected. they're pushing and shouting and holding out their hands and i'm lending them things. i start off with chewchew bars and packets of cigarettes but the volume of people is such that before long i have to heave lawnmowers and televisions through the hatch just to try to sate their rampant fervour. i watch forlorn, calling things like 'bring it back on monday' to them as they proudly abscond with my items, wiping off the diamond dust with their thumbs and nodding to their wives. they come back. i see the same faces and choke back a waffle as a solicitor yanks out my last molar with my favourite pliers. naked now and clinging on to a yukelele my grandad gave me as a team of butchers prise away my fingers. 'next week,' i sob. 'next week,' they agree.

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