Repertor
Artifex Imaginum
His feet would be safer in a Camel.I thought Jollyrei would be safer in a Spitfire than a Camel!
But if he were a female it might affect his toes.
Last edited:
-
Sign up or login, and you'll have full access to opportunities of forum.
Wraggles To The Rescue!
- Thread starter Wragg
- Start date
-
- Tags
- original story
But if he were a female it might affect his toes.
Indeed. Barb, for instance, can be quite particular about what she puts on her feet.
Repertor
Artifex Imaginum
She can be very finicky about shoesIndeed. Barb, for instance, can be quite particular about what she puts on her feet.
Last edited:
windar
Teller of Tales
Keep her barefoot, problem solved.Indeed. Barb, for instance, can be quite particular about what she puts on her feet.
Repertor
Artifex Imaginum
Are you sure?
Indeed. Barb, for instance, can be quite particular about what she puts on her feet.
It's not nice to make fun of Barb when she is asleep!!!!!!!
A collective five for all three of you!
Repertor
Artifex Imaginum
I think she likes Spitfires more than Camels.It's not nice to make fun of Barb when she is asleep!!!!!!!
A collective five for all three of you!
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
I expected demerits were in the air!
But don't worry guys, five makes you a flying ace!
Not a Me-109 in the novel, but a Me-110 nightfighter. RAF used to raid by night in WWII.No, I don't want Schnapps, thanks all the same. I'm an RAF officer, and I will drink tea or nothing. I'm sure that's in the Geneva Convention. We didn't build an empire drinking Schnapps.
Attachments
Repertor
Artifex Imaginum
Rather frying ass.five makes you a flying ace!
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
Then you know how it feels having a Messerschmidt on your tail!
That's a brave fighter pilot, up there with the searchlights and the flak!I expected demerits were in the air!
But don't worry guys, five makes you a flying ace!
Not a Me-109 in the novel, but a Me-110 nightfighter. RAF used to raid by night in WWII.
A collective five for all three of you!
That makes the math(s) difficult
5 demerits for the 3 of you. 5/3 = um, let's see...I used to know how to do this.That makes the math(s) difficult
Did you know that each of those little demerit guys whacks the other guy 7 times?
That comes to 35 whacks divide by 3 people, which is 11 whacks per person, with a couple left over.
This has been Jolly's Math for Cruxers for today. Now back to our program:
"I say, Gerry, you're not seriously going to send me to Colditz just for shooting up one bloody supply train, are you? Bloody Bosch; can't take a joke, what."
That's a brave fighter pilot, up there with the searchlights and the flak!
That makes the math(s) difficult
That's a brave fighter pilot, up there with the searchlights and the flak!
That makes the math(s) difficult
I think I'm getting one of my headaches....
I meant that they each get five demerits !!! ... 
not that the idiots should try to divide five between the three of them
“What the hell did you think you were playing at?” Colonel ‘Admi’ Raymond was livid. “Did I give you instructions to go strafing trains?”
“No, sir, but….”
“And what’s all this stuff and nonsense about a girl on a cross? Even the Huns don’t stoop that low!”
“I think they were the SS, sir,” ventured Wraggles. “I hear they’ve been getting more savage the more the war goes against them. Extremely good shots, too.”
“Evidently,” snapped Admi, “Now you’ve gone and lost one of my best men! Jollyrei’s been with the squadron since the Battle of Britain, he’s shot down, let me see…”
“Fifteen, sir.”
“Fifteen planes, and now he’s gone ogling naked women and been brought down by a soldier with a peashooter?”
“That was no peashooter, sir, you should see the holes in my wing.”
“I ought to make holes in your arse, Wragglesworth, playing silly buggers with trains like that when all you had to do was babysit a few bombers! Maybe that’ll let out some of the sunshine out that you seem to believe is up there!” He sighed. ”You say you saw him being taken prisoner?”
“Yes, sir, I’m afraid so.”
“Well, that’s that,” Admi sighed again. “Nothing to be done about it. Let’s hope they don’t just shoot him in cold blood.”
“On the contrary sir. I’ve discussed this with Ginger and Algy, and we want to go and get him back, and rescue that poor crucified woman, too.”
“What? Go behind the lines? For Jollyrei? You’ll all four of you end up on crosses, or worse! Are you mad?”
“No sir. Jollyrei has saved my bacon more than once. I have to go and get him!”
“When?”
“It has to be tonight. Besides, that girl won’t last for long….”
“You’re either a brave man, Wragglesworth, or a complete nutcase. Very well. Let me make some arrangements. Come back in an hour.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you sir.”
“No, sir, but….”
“And what’s all this stuff and nonsense about a girl on a cross? Even the Huns don’t stoop that low!”
“I think they were the SS, sir,” ventured Wraggles. “I hear they’ve been getting more savage the more the war goes against them. Extremely good shots, too.”
“Evidently,” snapped Admi, “Now you’ve gone and lost one of my best men! Jollyrei’s been with the squadron since the Battle of Britain, he’s shot down, let me see…”
“Fifteen, sir.”
“Fifteen planes, and now he’s gone ogling naked women and been brought down by a soldier with a peashooter?”
“That was no peashooter, sir, you should see the holes in my wing.”
“I ought to make holes in your arse, Wragglesworth, playing silly buggers with trains like that when all you had to do was babysit a few bombers! Maybe that’ll let out some of the sunshine out that you seem to believe is up there!” He sighed. ”You say you saw him being taken prisoner?”
“Yes, sir, I’m afraid so.”
“Well, that’s that,” Admi sighed again. “Nothing to be done about it. Let’s hope they don’t just shoot him in cold blood.”
“On the contrary sir. I’ve discussed this with Ginger and Algy, and we want to go and get him back, and rescue that poor crucified woman, too.”
“What? Go behind the lines? For Jollyrei? You’ll all four of you end up on crosses, or worse! Are you mad?”
“No sir. Jollyrei has saved my bacon more than once. I have to go and get him!”
“When?”
“It has to be tonight. Besides, that girl won’t last for long….”
“You’re either a brave man, Wragglesworth, or a complete nutcase. Very well. Let me make some arrangements. Come back in an hour.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you sir.”
Last edited:
And, although I hate to admit it, experience tells me that Wraggleworth's bacon is worth saving. So please good Sir, send someone else. I'd prefer to have him return to Cruxton Abbey, where I am faithfully keeping the home fires burning, with all his .... ahem ... essential parts intact.
Awww, Barb!
All demerits rescinded!
I know, I know, my memory is worse than my math(s), I've never actually given you any demerits
But it's the thought that counts
Awww, Barb!
All demerits rescinded!
I know, I know, my memory is worse than my math(s), I've never actually given you any demerits
But it's the thought that counts
What a sweetie pie!