There is no such thing as a Spanish virgin, trust me, they either have secret lovers, or just brothers.

Actually it had more to do with the poor lighting in the confessions booth than with luck.

Brings a whole new meaning to 'don't keep anything in your back pocket'

<Spanish Virgins> - In this context, a Spanish Virgin is somebody who has never played either side of a Ruy Lopez, 1.e4 e5 2.Nf3 Nc6 3.Bb5 ... weird stuff, I know, but unaccountably popular.

I suspect that <Wooly wool puller> is actually nothing more than a <stupid duck> and I have never bothered to give him the satisfaction of actually making a reply to any of his infantile parroting.

"In Xanadu did Kublai Khan
a Pleasure Dome decree.."

Hey what happened to <Frogspawn>?

I'm pretty sure <Toads> don't spawn.

I believe they are made by <Milton-Bradley>.

Sorry about the mix up.

A legion of sockpuppets gained control of my passwords, creating the recent havoc in domicile nomenclature.

My forum has it's originally intended title now.

HAHAHAHAAHAHAAH

heh

One is left speechless...

Well anyone else maybe.

HAHAHAAHAHAAHAAH

As much as I appreciate the "sentiment" behind such a name, I have to confess I miss <Frogspawn>.

Mrs. Bacteria.

Hi <Dom> I'm at "work" again.

Funny word, that.

Anyhoo, just letting you know how much fun it is to play <mckmac's> Folding Sentences game.

I never played before.

I hope you can join us in the next round. I just sent in today's submissions and I found it quite shocking. Well too late to change it now, it's been sent into the ether.

Mrs. Enjoys a good word game.

Auckland

BTW, I forgot to ask <Matt>--

What does "Kia Ora" mean?

That sort of thing. Our friend <m> is far too temperate for the role of resident alcoholic, so I thought I'd have a go at it.

Perhaps a ROC when you get a chance?

Remember, the ROC needn't be longer than a gnat's bum. Nor shorter than an elephant's.

Did you know the "St. Roc" was a Canadian boat that was the first to navigate the Northwest Passage?

Course, now the "passage" is a maritime freeway thanks to Global Warming.

All is right with the world...

And a somethingy something somethings my somethings...

I warn you that the conversation with PG was brief. But it did touch on chess.

I'll do that Roc. Where to begin, eh? The times we've had...

PS. You say the globe is *warming*? Why hasn't anyone said anything?

Sweating heavily, Bunt lumbered up the steps by the pool. "You're a dashed sadist, Goldmember", he said, "insisting on meeting here. You know I have no head for heights."

"Just so, Mr Bunt" hissed the sinister Slav sibilantly. "Of course I am sadist, as you will see presently when Rosie here gets to work on your tentacles" - he indicated a strapping pale young man with a sullen African leer and an inscrutable Korean snarl, clearly a tribute to the evils of miscegenation. "But in the meantime I believe you wanted to sell some government secrets, yes? I have brought a ten-shilling postal order, as you suggested."

"Ten bob won't feed my laudanum habit for long" wheedled Bunter. "Any chance of a guinea? I've got all the plans for a British atom bomb here, you know. It uses special British atoms, terribly hush-hush."

"Just so, Mr Bunt" leered Goldmember redundantly. "And that, I'm afraid, is why Rosie will have to do a number on your tentacles. Is that the word, 'tentacles'?"

Rosie stood up suddenly, flexing his knuckles in a limp-wristed way. "Yarooh!" squealed Bunter, pulling his tiny derringer from his loincloth and shooting him dead.

Goldmember stared impassively at the body in the pool for what seemed like a long time but was only a couple of hours. "Extra time for my pool staff" he quipped sadly. "I shall deduct their pittance from your guinea", he sighed.

"Yaroo!" repeated Bunter, but now with more conviction. "You think I'd sell my bally country for a pound with a shilling on top? We're talking a fiver now, specially since you forced me to use my double-oh licence."