Friday the 13th part four - GallantTed recounts yet another true story

One Fer Sorrow 

Who pinched MadDogTed's Lucky Charms?

Friday the 13^th started with that gallopen trollop Goldilocks sticken her ugly mug in front of the mirror and smashen it in ta smithereens from her sheer hidiousness. Well, that gallopen trollop Loxy, had no intention of sufferen from 7 years bad luck, and figuren the only cure was ta pass the bad luck on ta someone else, she rang Francis the Magpie and told him if he didn’t go and frighen all the luck out of MadDogTed, she’d tell the cops about the glitteren hoards that he had stashed away in his nest.

Meanwhile, MadDogTeddy, superstitious as ever, was in a fierce panic alltagather cos he couldn’t find any of his lucky charms ta get him through the day. But then, didn’t he get an anominous call tellen him that all his charms was beyont in the woods on top of the third tree ta the left. So he went on his way, hopen ta find all his lucky treasures, when what did he spot out of the corner of his eye - only Francis the Magpie. Well, the poor little fella nearly died of the fright and dropped almost half dead on the ground. 

But then luckily didn’t MadDogTed spot a second magpie hiden in the bushes. Fierce relieved alltagather, he was just about ta get up when out of nowhere this squad car rattled inta the woods, swerved ta avoid me furry little pal and rammed in ta a tree what fell on top of poor MadDogTed, knocken him out stone cold.

                                       Two Fer Joy

Anyways, in the heel of the reel it transpired that the second magpie, Fidelma, had just completed one a Goldilock’s “How ta get Yer Man” courses and on Loxy’s advice had been stalken Francis fer weeks and plaguen him with untracable anominous phone calls. Well, fer once, Francis was able ta identify the phone number that mornen and called the cops. Of course, it was Loxy’s number, not Fedilma’s, what showed up and that gallopen trollop got blamed fer the stalken and everythin and ended up getten 7 years community service looken after needy Teds.

On top of all that, when the tree fell on MadDogTed, didn’t all his missen lucky charms fall out of Francis’ nest. On hearen all this great news from his sick-bed, all me little pal could say, “Is Friday the 13^th me lucky day or wot?”

Back ta School - a cautionary tale, as told by GallantTed

Us Teds are a bit broke after all da gallivanten we did duren da summer.  But luckily didn’t we see an ad on the internet offeren us classes on how ta get-rich-fierce-quick-alltagather. The classes are run by the world famous onterpineer, Mrs Trudy Loff.   

MadDogTed likes spenden money

Well, we applied fer the course and Trudy sent us a really nice personal email tellen us that a cute buncha tallented onterpineeren Teds like us could call her Tru.  

We was right chuffed, I’ll tell ya, and being a biteen short of cash, we had ta go ta Mr Slasher fer a loan fer ta sign up ta Tru’s course - cos these thing don’t come cheap, ya know.  

Anyways, Mr Slasher looked more that a biteen dubious fer sure and told us that he’d heard of manys the poor crature that ended up in the workhouse after signen up fer the very same get-rich-quick course.  

One guy was advised ta purchase a pile of land fer ta make a football pitch out of. He borrowed up ta his eyeballs only ta discover that the land was riddled with moles and it was too bumpy fer anyone ta play on.  

Then there was the woman what was advised ta specialise in luxury desserts and paid through the nose fer a secret recipe fer custard. But, alas, the mixture always came out lumpy no matter what she did. 

And then there was Mr Slasher’s very own cousin, Belinda da Beautician, what spent an arm and a leg on fake tan that always came out uneven and was sued ta the armpits by her angry clientelle. 

  

Which only goes ta prove ta ya - the course a Tru Loff never did run smooth. 

GallantTed gives the lowdown on the Annual Nag Gags

I’ve no doubt that the more cultured a ye what do be readen me blog will be familiar with the Annual Nag Gag Symposium what’s open ta everyone so long as they’re an ass, a hoss or a jennet or something along those equine breeds. The horsey contestints spend the weekend tellen jokes, funny stories and the like and then on the last night the best contestints are picked ta go inta the grand final where the overall winner with the most amusen and original story is chosen. Well, fer the very first time this year’s Symposium was held in Slasher’s Bar & Grill.

Now, the animal called The Champ, what was tipped ta win the final, was a proper show off alltagather and had all us annoyed goen on about how hillarious he was and how he’d won the title fer 3 years runnen and how his victory was in the nose-bag fer sure. I’ll tell ya, he just loved ta hear himself bray and could talk the hind-legs of a donkey fer sure.

Which in fact is just what the ejjit did. And before hoofen it outta town from the sheer boredom of The Champ’s constant whinnien, the said Hind-legs told everyone the very joke what The Champ had up his sleeve fer the grand final. So by the time our chump The Champ told it up on the stage it was no longer original and was rendered null and void. Which put a bit of a dampner on the night cos everyone had been saven their belly laffs fer the final and now there was no grate joke ta gaffaw at. But then next thing ya know, didn’t MadDogTed shout up “It just goes ta show ye fokes - a mule and his funny are soon parted!”

Well, the place errupted fer sure and that’s how, fer the first time ever, a humble little teddy bear – with no horsey connection whatsoever - won the the Annual Nag Gag Symposium.

FRIDAY 13th - PART 3. GallantTed recounts yet another Friday 13th fiasco

Last Friday the 13^th  I awoke up ta the sun bursten through the winda and I decided that it were high time fer me ta dust down me summer gear. But as soon as I opened the wardrobe door I was furociously attacked and haff eaten alive by a hoard a starven moths. Luckily, Albear Camoo heard me screams and after a fierce fight alltagather we managed ta beat them off and hobble ta safety. We was fierce traumatized fer sure, but we bravely managed ta get inta the truck and drive ta the hospital fer ta get stitched up.

Well, there we was booten it down the road when suddenly Mr Slasher’s Auntie Maud appeared out of nowhere and started ta flag us down. Albear hit the brakes fer sure, but unluckily they failed and we ploughed straight inta the poor woman, knocken her out stone cold. So we had ta ring Mr Slasher with the terrable news and asked him fer ta come ta bring us all ta the hospital. He said he couldn’t understand what Auntie Maud was doen walken the roads cos she had just been discharged that mornen from the hospital with a clean bill of health and had told him not ta worry cos she’d arranged a lift home.

Anyways, we waited and waited fer Mr Slasher ta arrive. When he finally came we got ta shock of our lives cos his face was all swelled up and his tongue, what was the size of a turnip, was rollen all over the place in and out of his mouth. Anyways, we managed ta get the gist a what happened ta him:

• somethin ta do with that gallopen trollop, Goldilocks, snaggen her nylons on a nail stuck in one of the bar-stools,
• a ladder subsequently appearen on the said nylons,
• a bee flyen under the said ladder,
• a shot-glass suddenly fallen from nowhere on top of the said bee,
• the hysterical bee flyen inta Mr Slasher’s open gob and stingen the daylights out of him.

Luckily, all’s well what ends well and eventually we all got the medical attention we needed and arrived home, fierce quiet but feelen a biteen better in ourselves. Meself and Albear Camoo went straight ta see MadDogTed  in case he was worried about where we was all day. Well, we found him still in bed fast asleep oblivious ta all the goens on. He was clutchen a note in his little paw what read:

tings 4 2 do on fri 13

1  tell gallantted 2 get sum mot spray cos i saw 1 n his room da durty buggers

2  tell albear camoo  4 2 fix his brakes cos they is not worken

3  colleck anty maud from da hostipal

4  tell mr slasher 2 remove da nail wot i put in his bar stool 4 2 test if its real oak  btw its not

5  set alarm 4 2 get up early 

Well, we was too weak  ta batter the liven daylights out of  him - even while he slept - and when he eventually woke up and found out that his alarm never went off and he’d slept through the whole day, he hugged his lucky rabbit’s foot in delight and said “Is Friday the 13^th me lucky day or what!”