To illustrate my point, alan oppenheimer broadcasting

black sheep (hip hop group), puzzles, hong kong (china), fanman, historical general, united states of america, broadcasting, public radio, cameraphones, eat, trade paper, chicago alternative newsweeklies, general, born in the usa, fastfission, fallout, With the exception of Evan, a well-known gourmet, the others were in high spirits alan oppenheimer (a state we only attained later that night), looking as though, as indeed was the case, they had done nothing more strenuous than stroll to the alan oppenheimer pub and lift a few glasses. Two pictures stuck in my mind from that epic. alan oppenheimer The first was when we met the other party near the bottom. Nick and Jack were just emerging from a slot which, to me, looked about as tight as a cow's anus in flea time, or, if yu prefer, as tight as Reckert in a pub. The second was in the same place on the way out. The orifice was similar, indeed, it might just have been deja vu or presque vu or something, except that now my view was obstructed by Pete's flailing limbs and writhing body and that the air was now rather thick with obscenities. I was reaching for the Sustaining Books and Washing when Guy, from below, gave a final shove and out popped Pete. Now I seem to detect scornful mutterings to the effect that Gingling cannot conceivably be classed as a tight hole.
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To illustrate my point, let me cite last New Year's Gingling trip. A crack party of thin men rigged in, whilst a broadcasting team of gargantuan broadcasting gourmets was left to combat the combined forces of their own debilities and gravity in broadcasting a derigging trip. (There is, surprisingly, no truth in the rumour that they chose to derig in order that they might be able to have a pint or two before starting.) The thin men:- Norb Reckert, Pint-sized (and that's generous) Matthews, Julian, Steve, Evan and Jack. The Fat Men:- Gutsy Leigh, Pooh Talbot, The Phantom Shoulder, Hippo Harrison and myself. (Muff hovered between the parties). On average, we were over two stones a man heavier than the others. I need hardly point out that the parties were arranged in the pub. To cut a long story short, the riggers in were in the pub, laying in the Slimline Tonic Waters by six o'clock, after a boring, routine trip. We staggered in at 11-pm after a gruelling epic, both muscles of our bodies quivering from the battle against the Earth.
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