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#159746 02/22/07 02:39 AM
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Howye fokes! How is things? I’ll tell ye, all us poor Teds is tryen ta do is ta heel the world by keepen the greenhouse gasses down and if them cows won’t make any admissions fer their emmissions all I can do is keep exploiten them fer the dang dung flingers what they are. As fer the abuse what they’re hurlen at a poor innocint Teds just take a look at the letter below. MadDogTed is haven nonea it fer sure.

Hay Ted

You good for nothing flea bag. Who do you effin think you are writen that load of bullocks about how the cattle community is responsible for global warming? And what’s the big effin idea about insulting my girls, especially poor Harriet who wrote to you in an effort to defend our kin and kine? My girls are so upset at your attitude that many of them are refusing to eat, scared in case the world will abruptly end as soon as they put the next scrap in to their gobs. But worst of effin all, many of them are refusing me my conjugal rights, scared to bring any more destructive calves into the world. And where does that leave me, Teddyboy? Bull effin idle – that’s where.

I’ve been looking forward to a roll in the hay with Harriet Heffer for weeks now and I’m warning you, Buster, if you don’t apologise at once I’d advise you to dust down your togs cos you’ll be going swimming in the slurry pit very soon.

Signed: Billy Big Ones


hay urself dilly dig 1s

us tebs gnow where u f n liv
& if u bon’t shut da f up
we will senb da doys round 4 2 have ur f n hed on a plate
& all ur f n gnobbly dits 2 doot
so enuff a ur f n guff dig doy
unless ur tinken a shortnen ur name 2 just dilly

b f n c n u l8r g8r

sined mabbogtebby X

Last edited by GallantTed; 02/22/07 02:41 AM.
GallantTed #166564 03/06/07 08:49 PM
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See you're still up to your ears in cows and bull's domestic affairs. ( Hadn't seen this one at all yet.Are you keeping on to this thread now? Good to know ).

BranShea #167605 04/17/07 12:13 AM
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Howye fokes! How is things?

Last Friday the 13th 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. Lookily, Albear Camoo herd me screems and after the fierce fight what enscewed we managed hobble ta safety. We was fierce traumatized fer sure, but we bravely managed ta get inta the trook 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 outta nowhere and started ta flag us down. Albear hit the breaks fer sure, but unlookily they failed and we ploughed straight inta the poor woman, knocken her out stone cold. So we rang Mr Slasher with the terrable news and asked him fer ta come fer ta bring us all ta the hospital. He sed 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 cleen billa health and had told him not ta worry cos she’d arranged a lift home.

Anyways, we waited and waited haff ded in the roasten heat fer Mr Slasher ta arrive. When he finally came we got the shocka our lives cos his face was all swelled up and his tongue, what was the size offa turnip, was rollen all over the place in and outta 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 stook in one a the bar-stools, a ladder subsequently appearen on the sed nylons, a bee flyen under the sed ladder, a shot-glass suddenly fallen from nowhere on toppa the sed bee, the hysterical bee flyen inta Mr Slasher’s open gob and stingen the daylights outta it.

Lookily, 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 his looky rabbit's foot in one little paw and a note in the other. The note sed:

tings 4 2 do on fri 13
1 tell gteb 2 get sum mot spray cos i saw 1 n his room da burty duggers
2 tell aldear camoo 4 2 fix his drakes cos dey is not worken
3 colleck ant maud from da hostipal
4 tell mr slasher 2 remove da nale wot i put in his dar stool 4 2 c if its reel oak btw its not
5 set alarm 4 2 get up early

Well, we was too week fer ta batter the liven daylights outta him - even while he slept - and when he eventually awoke up and found out that his alarm never went off and he’d slept through the hole day, he hugged his looky rabbit’s foot in delight and sed “Is Friday the 13th me looky day or what!”

Be seein ya

GallantTed

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You had your lucky day writing this one, the oversea's Supporters Society will love it.
.

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Howye fokes! How is things? Inspired by the the success of Albear Camoos’s furst racy novel "A Bad Hare Day", MadDogTed decided ta have go at writen somethin in the Chick Lit vane fer himself, and his little offeren called "John with the Wind" is all about a weather cock called John what finds it hard ta find love cos he’s stook on toppa the barn and never gets ta meet anyone and, as a result takes ta overdosen on beans fer ta fill the emotional void inside a him. Subsequently he gets a pernamint dose a the flatulince what grately effects his work cos he’s never quite sure which way the wind does be blowen and ends up haven ta rely on his bunions fer ta predict the weather.

But then he meets the love a his life, Muriel the bat, what flies inta his life and she buys him some corn plasters fer his burthday and cures his bunions. A course, this means he can no longer forcast the weather cos as a token a her affections, Muriel just loves ta feed him beans and so he still hasn’t a clue which way the wind does be goen. Anyways, as a result dosen’t he lose his job and our pair a love burds end up bitter, twisted, fly-by-night renegades what spend the resta a their lives on the rampage, brutally gorgen the eyes outta any weathermen what crosses their path and violently knocken the heds offa any Child a Prague what gets in their way.

Basically, ya could say the the two a them completely lose the plot, which is really what MadDogTed’s furst attempt at a romantic novel does from the very furst word what he wrote. Fer that reason, ya can imagine me surprise when he told me that he’d actually found a publisher fer his odious opus. And when I sed that his novel didn’t quite embrace the sugary romantic essince a what Chick Lit is all about he sed, “Chick Lit, me f n arse, it’s Sick Lit what I do be writen, fer sure!” And I’ll tell ye fokes, there’s no better Ted fer the job.

Be seein ya

GallantTed

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Non gallum eges ut scias e quo parte flat ventus

Faldage #189744 03/04/10 11:16 PM
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bear foaks

word on da street has it dat
me pal gallantteb is worken 4 da vikings
hes teechen them how 2 b speeken
da english and everythin
chapter 5

i meself is shocked & horryfied @ such low standards
y dib dey not cum 2 me 4 guidince

now 4 u falbage
dats where ur f n latin does b getten u


http://books.google.ie/books?id=HfGLpQuaNc4C&dq=%22gallantted%22&source=gbs_navlinks_s

b f n c n u l8r g8r

mabbogtebby X

mabbogtebby #189762 03/05/10 04:28 PM
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Mabbogtebby, could you ask Albear Camoo to see to that link?
It does not seem to work and it might contain important information.

BranShea #189768 03/05/10 05:40 PM
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Hi there

It's difficult to get the link to work. It's in SYSTIME - a Danish book company and the name of the book is "Spoken English" by Susanne Jørgensen. GTed is in Chapter 5.

http://books.google.ie/books?id=HfGLpQuaNc4C&printsec=copyright#v=onepage&q=&f=false

A C

Albear Camoo #189769 03/05/10 06:12 PM
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This one works well Camoo. It's a scroll down to page 31, and though some may argue GallantTed speaks no dialect but Teddialect it still is the same GallantTed we're talking about.

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