Since there appears to be very little chance of peaceful cohabitation on the bbs today please feel free to stage a mass-brawl in this Western saloon. I am going to be slapping the dust out of my poncho and ordering "Whiskey!" but be warned that I have a cheroot in the corner of my mouth and am narrowing my gaze in mean and hornery fashion. If them boys from the Reid Range come in here firing their shooting irons in the air then so help me somebody is gonna get this chair broken over their shoulders...

-- Anonymous, May 03, 2002

Answers

Nice of you to offer pardner. I'll have a whiskey myself as well please. Just as long as those pesky varmints keep outa here. Hee hah. Phruurrrp. Danged beans.

I think I might have an Injun when I leave.

-- Anonymous, May 03, 2002

Screacher, ever thought of doing stand up comedy at football club dinners? I hear Leeds are looking for someone.

-- Anonymous, May 03, 2002

Befores youse gonna shoot them durn Reid Range SOftie, why dont you gee us a song .......

-- Anonymous, May 03, 2002

[Takes out banjo]Well here's a little song my granpappy used to sing.

Home, home on the range,
Where the deer and the atelope plaaaaayyyyyyyy....

-- Anonymous, May 03, 2002

Is Big Davie here? Mac the Knife? Hammerhead McGhee? None of them? Good - can I have a Campari and Soda please?

-- Anonymous, May 03, 2002

Anybody up fer a good pistol wippin'??

-- Anonymous, May 03, 2002

Well, looks like we got ourselves a reader...

-- Anonymous, May 03, 2002

A Reider? Where?

-- Anonymous, May 03, 2002

With badly played piano tinkling away, there is a rush of wind, tumbleweeds* blow along the dusty dry road outside (*no, not the band) and somewhere a small yappy type of dog is kicked - hard up the arse.

A clink-clunk of heavily embossed cowboy boots with spurs is heard up the steps to the bar. The saloon doors swing open with a creak of badly oiled hinges and warped wooden panels. A dark stranger stands there, head down and leaning on his hip. Slowly reaching into the pocket of his leather waistcoat he pulls out a pack of cards. Lifting his head barely so his eyes meet the gaze of the BBS saloon bar he opens his mouth and says:
"Anyone for a game of chase the ace? Penny a point?"

-- Anonymous, May 03, 2002

[In the interests of having a really good punchup it is important to note a number of handy props on the premises: the table and chairs seem badly braced as though a good weight on top of them could see them collapse, there is a wagon-wheel candle-holder suspended from the centre of the ceiling, the swing doors lead onto a muddy street, the horse troughs are placed conveniently in line with the windows, the railings on the stairs and along the balcony above the bar look decidely flimsy and judging by the noises from up there any doors kicked in could reveal shrieking young ladies of ill-repute with mussed up hair clutching blankets aginst their ample bosoms in a vain attempt to hide the generosity of Mother Nature.]

-- Anonymous, May 03, 2002

Hell man, ye shudda telt wuz it wez the bliddy Straabeery.

-- Anonymous, May 03, 2002

`Hey big boy! yer not from around these parts are ya? Err....why don`t ya...err... come up and see me some time? (;o) Exits up the rickety staircase with a less than subtle shake of her bustle.

-- Anonymous, May 03, 2002

Yoooooooooo Hoooooooooooooooo, sorry Yeeeeeeeeeeeee Haaaaaaaaaaaaah, Ifn any of youse is savin them wimmin of ill repoot, save one for me!

-- Anonymous, May 03, 2002

LOL, how about..

Hey gringo, I ride all dee way from Guad a la hara to avenge my brother Superkeev. Where can I find the one theey call "Doc" Johnno? Cos when I find heeeeeeeem I hopen heem up like a tin of sardine overexaggerated hand movement.*overexaggerated hand gesture and spits tobacco*

-- Anonymous, May 03, 2002

[The wad of spittle strikes spitoon at an oblique angle. The dark brown juice splashes over several pairs of cowboy boots.]

Where I comes from, that there's fightin' talk, Mister [adjusts hat and lines up haymaker]...

-- Anonymous, May 03, 2002

"Oh yeeaaaahhh?" says the short, pale, rather sad looking local wipping boy in the corner. As he emerges from behind the piano, where's he's been cowering for fear his wife might catch him out with the lads again. He approaches the two spital slingers and asks "do you know where the nearest chemist is, I've got a splitting headache"

-- Anonymous, May 03, 2002

Suddenly the saloon door is flung open and a three-legged dog walks in and says "I'm a-lookin' for the man that shot my paw"!

-- Anonymous, May 03, 2002

now that's funny.

-- Anonymous, May 03, 2002

"I'm a-lookin' for the man that shot my paw"!

Trar n' top that if you darr, stranger. You'll git the pistol whuppin uv yer miserable lahf.

That's bliddy hilarious Pilgrim. I hope you're satisfahd, you've just hahjacked the whole thread.

Bust a gut ? You ain't seen nuthin yet.

-- Anonymous, May 03, 2002

that should be hahahajacked. I don't think there will ever another thread that wont be hijacked. I for one will be inserting my two cents everywhere

-- Anonymous, May 03, 2002

"Who's the hombre at the bar drinking the leftovers?"

"That thar's Skint Eastwood".

-- Anonymous, May 03, 2002

Don't apologise thar Pilgrim..It's a sign o weakness

-- Anonymous, May 03, 2002

"thar's only two fings dat thar come oot of Texas..........steers and queers and I don't see no horns on you thar boy"

-- Anonymous, May 03, 2002

kuhchingg, kuhchingg go the jangle of spurs in the ears of the assembled drinkers. The louvred doors of the saloon are swung open, as one the assembled throng turn to see the cause of the commotion.

A gasp comes from the lips of the gathered crowd, even Doc Jonno. There before them stands the meanest, ugliest and ornerryest cow poke they have ever seen.

He is dressed in brown paper shirt, brown paper hat, brown paper jeans and brown paper boots.

His voice booms over the murmers and whispers BARKEEP GIVE ME A WHISKY, AND LEAVE THE BOTTLE, this is mah furst drink in 3 years. Ah just got outta prison.

He jangles over to the bar and starts emptying the bottle. After 2 or three minutes someone gets up the courage to ask him why he was in prison.

WHY he replies, fer rustling!

-- Anonymous, May 05, 2002