Tales From the LSC vol 1. issue 2. by Torcath Following on from issue one's plethora of poetic nonsense is a selection of literary shorts from my frazzeled head. Most are written by me those that are not are stated. Not all of the text is meant to be funny, so don't bug me if you don't laugh at some bits, and don't tell me if you didn't laugh at all because I'll hit you. Note that this stuff is written from my prospective of a pennyless guy from a town called Seaham in which nothing ever happens, so don't be suprised if at some point you have no idea what I'm talking about as I dont either. For you geography type people out there Seaham is in the north-east of England surrounded by a huge void that sucks in anything close to resembling interesting. Also note that this text is in no particular order, which nicely reflects my state of mind, and like me you could find it a bit confusing. We start with a bit of maths. Kev's equations No.1 Woman + Bald head = ick (Bit of literature below) I would drag an angel into an abyss for you. Climb any mountain on hands and knees. There is not an ocean I would not sail for you. For you are the one shining light in the darkness of my life. (cool or what! forgot what it's from however, Doh!). Did you get hurt in the fracas? No I was kicked in the bollocks! Please do not read this sentence. A favoured quote: This isn't college, it's hell with fluorescent lighting. If I throw a stick will you leave? (tip for the day no.1: don't say that to your girlfriend. Doh!) (a message for all you students out there) Do not think of it as bunking off lesson, rather we are lighting the work load of our over worked lecturers. What do you call a train that doesn't stop at the station? Thomas the Bastard. (not mine I know but its still funny) If there is any such thing as reincarnation (and if there isn't the bible is lying), then I would like to put my name down to come back as Jennifer Love Hewitt's underwear (OH YES!). Kev's equation No.2 Venessa Feltz + Ann Widicombe + Donkey = Therapy for life. Take two bottles into the shower? Yeah, I'm an alcholic. Can I kick it? No you can't, so fuck off you hip-hop singing git. If I were you then you'd be me. Argh! Get out of my body you bastard! I wonder if surrealist comments are like giant cabbages with liverpool accents (??). Vanessa Feltz, Gaby Roslin, Denise Van Outen...why?! (the three most annoying women on British tv) Ouch! I thought you said your dog doesn't bite?! That is not my dog (classic quote from the Pink Panther movies). So I was walking along when a huge octopuss in a bunny outfit jumped out at me. I said "Can I help?" And the octopuss said "No this is just a surrealist ramble in order to fill in an empty sentence. And as such bears no meaning or moral content." And with that the octopuss climbed on top of a bowl of jelly and rode of into the distance, leaving me holding an orange and a screwdriver. (tip of the day no.2) Incase of an emergency. Blame someone else. The Group (or people I would claim not to know if asked by the police) Philip "Man Mountain" Young; the best argument there is against genetic testing. Andrew "Imposter" Dixon; breasts belong to women NOT men, you freak. Andrew "BoB aka Chronic" Barber; ???? Ben "What do you mean work??" Carrol; He should have asked Leoni out but is a guttless wonder. Craig "Dreggs" Atkinson; poet, philosopher, artist. He is none of them. Myself; rugged good looking hero type person of the group. They have ears. Some of them have ears on their knees. Hats off to the Zebras. They are black and white. But they don't fight cause they not very good at it. (Bill Bailey rules). I wrote this sentence naked. I wrote this sentence clothed. I wrote this sentence three days after I wrote the last two. I wrote this sentence shortly after the court hearing. I wrote this sentence in a padded cell. I wrote this sentence without a vaccine. I wrote this sentence having caught a virus from the last sentence. I wrote this sentence on the way to my funeral. I wrote this sentence in my coffin. I wrote this... Hang on, coffin? Help! Help! I'm not dead! let me out! What is the password? Erm? I promise I wont kill any nuns. (If you know what that line is from please let me know. Its driving me mad). And now for a commercial break COMM**********************ERCIAL (and now a message from my brain) If this all seems strange to you imagine how I feel. I live with the guy! (and now a message from my imagination) Help! Help! Let me out! Please! "Hi I'm John Cabbernickfishguvner, I'm here to put today's Question of the Day to you the public, so erm here it is. Will the maddness ever end? That is the Question of the Day. We go live to Hank Havernabbyick for this exclusive report." "Thanks John. For years now the nation, indeed the world has stared at the colossal form of Kevin Russel and wondered "Will the maddness ever end?" Well here tonight we have with us three well known and respected members of the scientific community to try to answer this question. On my right we have criminal psychologist Hubba Bighanky, on my left we have Veronica Winchester, an expert in the field of genetics and finally snuggled nicley between my thighs is Crystal, she has nothing to do with the Question of the Day, but is helping with my, erm, my, er, ulser." "Down a bit crystal. Oooh yeah thats got it." "Ahem. So professor Bighanky can you answer the Question of the Day. Will the maddness ever end?" "No I can't." "Right, ok then. Perhaps you, Miss Winchester can shed some light on the subject." "Nope." "I see. Well that concludes the show for today. Thank you for watching. I'm off to give this hooker a good seeing to. Back to you John." "Right, er, thank you Hank." The producers of Kevin Russell would like to apologise to you, the viewing public, for, well, everything, erm sorry and all that. We just didnt know what he was like. Sorry sorry. *BANG*. Sorry that was the producers of Kevin Russell shooting him for the greater good of mankind (sounds of cheering and applause in the background).