The Cheeky Brit v.s. Uber-Dork war of '04.
It was a day to be remembered when fighting broke out between these two groups. Tea and biscuits on one side, glasses and suspenders on the other. The noise of the british accents was rivaled only by the roar of elvish curses.
It was, indeed, a day that would live in infamy on the Downs.
Then, in the midst of the fighting, one Cheeky Brit clad in kilt and argyle, attempted to propose marriage to two unsespecting Uber-Dorks.
Gasps arose around the room. The nerds groped for thier inhalers.
What would happen? Would this be the end of neary two long days of war? Would the universal love of Tolkien win out against the reasons for war that I don't quite recall?
And, most importantly, what was this guy wearing under his kilt?
__________________
I drink Pan Galactic Gargle Blasters!
~
Always remember: pillage BEFORE you burn.
|