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Mad over Fifties CLub

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ladyalex | 20:59 Sat 19th Nov 2011 | Quizzes & Puzzles
132 Answers
The Club is now Open


Welcome again to all our members, old and older, mad and madder.

No doubt the usual delectable nibbles and drinks will appear shortly.

Tonight's raffle prizes so far include:

A packet of Spangles

4 bath cubes (lavender, of course)

A tin of Uncle Joe's Mintballs (don't tell him)
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I have a sneaking suspicion that your luck will hold for the rofl, m'lady.

Tailcocks, tailcocks! Get 'em while they're on fire, they're lovely!
Question Author
I happen to be a very lucky person when it comes to raffles.
You either got it or you don't got it.
Apologies to Mr Keats tonight as it is St Agnes of Assisi Day and he wrote of her. I guess this doubles up to The Ed's Church too....so will copy over there.


Our heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains
Our senses, as though of tailcock we had drunk,
Or emptied some dull opiate to the Castle drains
One minute past, and Lie-in-King had sunk:
’Tis not through envy of thy happy lot,
But being too happy in thine happiness,—
That thou, light-winged Mamya of the trees,
In some melodious plot
Of naomi green, and AB Chucks numberless,
Singest of summer in B00-throated ease.


O, for Ratter’s vintage! that hath been
Cool’d a long age in the deep-delved earth,
Tasting of Craftie and the country green,
Dance, and Boxtops song, and Slinky mirth!
O for a beaker full of Sunny-Dave South,
Full of the true, the blushful Carakeel-cream,
With beaded Nungate winking at the brim,
And purple-stained mouth;
That we may drink, and leave the world unseen,
And with thee fade away into the forest dim:


Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget
What thou among the leaves hast never known,
The Seekeerz, the fever, and the fret
Here, AB men sit and hear each other groan;
Where Murray shakes a few, sqad, last gray hairs,
Where youth grows pale, and postdog-thin, and dies;
Where but to think is to be full of sorrow
And Venator-eyed despairs,
Where Jogger Jayne cannot keep her lustrous eyes,
Or new Love pine at them beyond to-morrow.


Away! away! for we will fly to thee,
Not charioted by PolarBear and her pards,
But on the viewless wings of Poesy,
Though the Miss Meg perplexes and retards:
Already with thee! tender is the night,
And haply the Lady Alex is on her throne,
Cluster’d around by all her starry Fays;
But here there is no light,
Save what from heaven is with the Bakers blown
Through Ankou glooms and winding Gitty ways.


We cannot see what Daisy Nonnas are at our feet,
Nor Flip-the-Switch hangs upon the boughs,
But, in Rowan darkness, guess each sweet
Wherewith the seasonable month endows
The TonyV, the thicket, and the Jack-Hat wild;
White hawthorn, and D97 eglantine;
Fast fading Nibble cover’d up in leaves;
And AYG’s eldest child,
The coming Ena, full of Moonie wine,
The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves.



Forlorn! Venator’s word is like a bell
To toil us back from Ed-land to ourselves!
Adieu! the Delphians cheat so well
As they fam’d to do, deceiving all AB elves.
Adieu! adieu! our plaintive anthem fades
To Apotheosis, over the still stream,
Up AB hill-side; and now ’tis buried deep
In the suspension-glades:
Was it a vision, or a waking dream?
Fled that music:—Do we wake, praise or sleep?
Well there are plenty prizes to go round.
Question Author
DT you have excelled yourself.

I particularly like the picture of me cluster'd round by starry fays...I'll use that ....
I liked the bit about me and my pards.
I am open-mouthed in admiration sir, though not yet sunk.
Oh ah erm, how very lovely ♥
Evening milady and to all present. For the rifle I have a packet of wild flower seeds (nowhere left to scatter them), some Nectar points, courtesy Southern Electric. No idea what to do with them and resent being seen as a charity case.
Why not just reduce charges? Lastly a jar of baby beetroot, BOGOF from the Co-op. Not really wanted but easier to accept than to deal with the histrionics of the till person. How much beetroot can one person eat?
Desperate for a nibble and a sup.
Your felineship, please be careful of my outer garment. It has its nth birthday soon. Oh, and don't feed the broomstick. He is on a diet.
Good evening, Miss Daisy - I shall be most careful when hiding your 'garment', but I do not see your broomstick - perhaps he's gone for a little fly...

One large flagon of 'Blazing Buick', Miss.
Good evening Daisy, what lovely prizes too, maybe the beetroot will complement the rabbit ragout.
Question Author
Evenin' Daisy.
I think your broomstick has made his way upstairs...
Good evening, I do hope I am not late. Just flown in from Barcelona where I went to watch a footie game, the llama is currently visiting his family in the Trossachs, poor thing hasn't recovered from the incident with the croc in the moat last week. Consequently he has been "shedding" like never before, so I am offering 3 bags of llama hair as a prize in the rafa - useful for padding saddles (llama or otherwise) of if the winner is so inclined to be spun into pipe lagging.
There will be a close brush with his Lordhip - I can see it in the tailcock lees.
Good evening, Miss nungate. One does so hope that your llama makes a full recovery & that he is sensible enough not to get caught by the Gorbals.

A large flagon of 'Blazing Buick' & I will be more than happy to hide your coat, Miss.
Dear me. Do you think perhaps the broomstick (blushes becomingly) may need "pruning". I know you have a collection of brooms, brushes and walking sticks in that little room at the end of the corridor.
The Gorbals hold no mystery or fear for the llama he has the correct armaments, I thank you for the blazing buick just a small bucketful if you please...
There you are, miss - one bucket of booze, as requested.

Miss Daisy - I hope the broomstick will be alright, as m'lady has an old besom that's seen better days & it tends to wander...
Tread softly DT. I will ensure that when I fall at your feet in admiration of your poetry I will be carrying a lantern so that you do not tread on your dreams .
Tailcocks, tailcocks! Get 'em before m'lady's drunk

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