Bigrig
21st February 2011, 05:59 PM
The update so far ... so get off my back!!! LOL - and you lot are SERIOUSLY on acid ... it hurt every educated cell in my body having to read through every word of this!!! ROFLMFAO!!!!!
BigRig is hungover, now some fun! HOWS THE HEAD? Hangover,ya learner, hope it hurts, bloody big wuss. Should drink light beer or rum, definately not rum from your bum cause that tastes rather nutty. Next you will know it will snow in the west, south is best, if you know who sells the (or who pays) Patrol manuals cheap, this forum does. But only after posting 25 posts from the starship to base and then you will get help with fixing your datsun, or your nissan. When the mud turns to rock, things can get tuff. Shit happens when you sink like a rock without your floaties.
And dont forget nowoolies wants nowoolies, or coles either, but pubs allowed. Pubs always allowed to give free bourban and beer, kegs of scotch to me only after buying GU a lemonade drink, a little cider and, no ice, add some OOZO to your drink get absolutley mashed. Call yourself bigrig! Not me, never would, be hard .. me fall down after watching union fantastic bloomin game for the deprived, unwanted, evicted, welshmen with no future. Now I'm hurt, joined our forum because it was full of likeminded aussie rules people. Aerial ping pong? Rugby rules ‘ofcourse’! Cross country basketball? Too right mate he said smiling while the dog cocked his leg. Water ran by but the dog held fast, his cocking continued until … but alas, it hit electric fence & the look of pain was something, the likes can't be adequately described. The pain was nothing compared to numbing, couldn’t move but soldiered on, tucked up, but i've lost it he said rolling on the ground in barbque sauce, which tastes good. Fish and chips and beer, and a packet of chips, mountain trout stream, where bush nimhps are roaming free. Hard to take down the dell, amongst the ferns, the lyrebird sings with his thing stuck in the bullfrog. What bloody bullfrog? The one with the wart on nose and guess what? more posts coming!!!
Beer and fag fixes you up from previous night on the town. Bugger the fags, not good for too much actually, or your health, oh well, I'll light another fag and ponder life in the dunny, reading the paper with the bullfrog in the bowl - yea green ones – “sick sick sick” in the bowl, but oops no paper. AB`s awake said no ones home use your finger for what said Bigrig??. Help needed, send more BEEEEEERRRRRRRRRRRRRR … please, please, please … aw stop sooking said the bullfrog. Shoot the bullfrog and flush toilet … going, going, gone! Alas he was a good frog, but gone now. I hope so...... but the aliens ….. no no no...... are BACK sir! Not them again..... with flying colours! and chasing BOB !!!!!!! Shoot the aliens - not this time, their bullet proof and toilet proof and trained too … so cop that!!! But they can still be killed - self distroy haha, are they gone? Yep gone FOREVER.
Nope .........................still here!!!!! Wheres the gun? said burt to … you mean cannon? not big enough!!!!!!! ok atom bomb should do it! NOT AT CHANCE!! Trouble if no "H" bomb, done … goes and backfires!! Use kryptonite then they after victorians. They have VB , that’ll do it! Drunk aliens going to self … no didnt happen only farted green - thats kryponite poisoning. Just martian beer splattered the bowl. Long live martians. No no no..... they must go! Aliens are coming in the mud, oh they drowned … the poor bastards! So ends another saga of the aliens, now the martians to be extinct, need to be exterminated by army – absolutely impossible to kill martian aliens. Roofy and Bob are closet aliens. I will kill the green men if it kills me with help from … not a chance … do they have really big ones?? Big VB tallies, and foster too. Ugh … no fosters. What about XXXX? Oh, bad headaches. Serves you right. Yes it does!!
This thread doesn’t stick to rules, that’s OK because Bigrig is boss of the three rules of drinking. Beer, beer, beer and when the beer runs out it’s a trip to the fridge for Mrs Bigrig’s wine – keeps the girls happy as well and more beer, bourbon and scotch for the boys to drink all day, and all night too, and the next day as well, while we fish and smoke and Bob told us “have another drink”, so we did … Good on Bob!!! Bloody legendary suggestion. Then the alien jumped in his craft and left for a short, non return trip around walhalla, then down to “no return” town. But he resisted Burt Newton’s powers, coopers for beer, to the dismay of the locals of Tennant Creek, who love Burt and his toupee and lauren too.
Bullfrogs killed aliens????? Damn good news that Rossco is relaxing and not dressing up in … or is he?? Really a woman?? Wearing stockings and other mens clothes??? No, surely not! You never can tell though, maybe it’s the west, keeps us cool. Maybe the east where no clue what this is or where, but the truth will come out when Bigrig replies. If he manages to find the “please decipher” button. First he has to sober up then wipe his mouth from all that sweet, sweet alien slobber and try his best not to laugh. But the boomerang returned with news that the pub had no beer, but plenty of the barrells floated down coopers creek in the thompson and grabbed out the full ones to bribe Bigrig into being a mutant bunyip killer. Poor bunyip is looking bludgeoned and defeated. This is nasty, smells like festering boots from Finly’s collection of women’s ware. He borrowed a hair brush, curliing tongs and a makeup bag. This could be a new and exciting addition to the game of tag. The fag we’ll be smoking later if we can … boil an egg with a stone cold stare, like the one Doggy dishes out to thread hijackers such as Bigrig and along with everyone who resemble that, the numbers are very small indeed, but are growing at a rapid rate so we must be pulled into line, for we can save mighty MQ’s all shiny new (like they need saving) … with Bo Jangles playing in 8track on the doof … you mean radio? Just a stereo. Now the truth, on de wireless is not always what it seems and can’t always hear the aliens!!! “No bloody aliens ever, ever again” said nowoolies sheepishly, retreated and gave no sheep here as he walked.
Roy Rogers sings home on the range where the chooks and turkeys sing “eat the wagonwheel” whilst trying to hide from AB’s axe, which is blunt, but still effective. More fearsome than Bob’s pocket knife which is blunt, but none of which were handy so we started thread hijacking all … no we didn’t … who’s “we” was asked. The Royal We brigade we are. You mean Scotts influenced drinking mates were the culprits. The deadly deed of thread hijacking, which is a true forum sin to thread hijack, but no more. Truth be told it’ll happen again, we have sinned and bigrig’s banned. Just one day? Heads or tails? Waiting, waiting, waiting, from a stone. Huh? What? Hey! What just happened? Lost the plot, confusion ran riot, sanity ran away, post was changed, lost me completely. Quick, thread jack!! Barrp, buurrrp, blaaaat, belch, groan, fart was heard by the wandering doggy and western crew watched with anticipation and look its Timbar belching too, through dry gorges, creek bed lagoons. Of Alexander the Great, warrior in his almighty Nissan GU patrol was thinking “GQ” …. Must be a GU flying through the (quack quack quack), it’s heating up. But the ducks got singed but still managed to wobble their burnt bums down in the mud to cool his overheated GU after towing GQ’s for practice, as they need to bow to GQ’s as they are the best 4x4 made by nissan in the world. And that’s why we own one and I love that they are better than toy-rota by a million and damn more every day.
(I’d better put this together or Rossco will tear me a new one) He’ll be sooooooo relaxed he won’t care. Wanna bet? Hurry up Scotty, times running out said the bunyip. Another bloody alien. Where is one? That’s what he said but no one had survived, now thank the lord. The lone ranger said Tonto, where has silver gone? To kill aliens!!! Booooooom … silver dead. Poor old silver. And Tonto said, fetch the ketchup. How do I? Tell the Lone Ranger silver is tea, roasted or fried. Roasted sounds good on a spit, with some spit to blow hair from teeth, throat and from within uranus, with hook worms around tape worms, maybe heart worm, probably lung worm … nah … fishing worms. OK blood worms, sand and scrub. Turkey’s in dresses dancing on the nest in the rainforest of a crocodile with a smile, singing a song. I love turkey, do da do … gobble, gobble, gobble. Burpppppppp, belchhhhhhhhh, ahhhhhhhhh … you animal Roofy. Oh yeah baby said with delight. Fresh croc eggs on turkey breast with orange juice, with sand worm and lotsa beer.
Cause crocs love cross dressers, pretty poofy clothes, mile high clubs and ugly heads. And hairy arms holding MQ’s dangly thing in a vice whilst cutting off lower joint of leg of lamb. And marinated in diesel as well. However the lamb and the cook plucked a chook, with their foot stuffed with poop, in the turkey head up it’s – moved over there, close to uranus. We talking … outta space? Of course not, but the dags hang off sheep, hot and steamy little black peas. This is sick! But thick green sludge from cows now glides by green house gases, carbon trading hey, I’m lost for something to say. Don’t be shy, why oh why, carbon credits why … is it so, cruel to have low to go … black balloons go pop in mud, they’re flexible though, use as franga’s … mmmm … black ones, with no holes for carbon trading. That’s going backwards as carbon trading is all cobby wobbles. That is new! By the dig tree it was buried. A life line they just missed by a few/couple of hours, and a six pack from innamincka pub. It was XXXX, tasted like water! Where is bigrig, sleeping his time from a hangover … careful, he’s watching!! Time waits for no one but bigrig. He is away, XXXX is not beer. Better than Swan, but not VB. TED the beer of champions. Tooheys Extra Dust?? Sir, you have no taste in grog. How many more bottles of beer on the wall?
Have you tried to recycle those left nostril boogers, and right nostril boogers. Look like crapola’s maybe there boogola’s? What the hell? You haven’t seen one? Yes sir, three – a snotty toyota, runny and green – yes x 3. Another yaris born!!!! Wind, rain, hail or shine so rolling along high as a kite … deep in the valley of death, the crapola fears where cyclones die and bunyips thrive, and toyota’s are made for bunyips to crap in … yaaaaa …. Pretty front garden with picket fence and illegal herbs … stoners in the garden passing scoobs around and a beer, rambling about nothing. Fancy a curry? Said to Murray. In a hurry! Where is Ruby? Said Murray to the vicar of bloody Dibley who’s no good at confession time. He did a flip back to another time when all was “gro horrr rroag (caveman speak).
New women there on every rock showing there wares, club in hand, ready, willing and able to cook dinosaur spare ribs with hot chilli sauce and stegosaurus appetisers, washed down with mud crab milkshakes. What? No alcolhol said the aliens. Bloody thank God said the alien to the vicar. But then suddenly the lone ranger shot poor Tonto in the date. “Good shot” bellowed the John Wayne of nissanpatrol.com.au forum. Watch Annie Oakley. Bloody good shot, taken from the hip, while laying down. “Kiss me baby” said the leprechaun to the vicar. Hold my shillaly and we can set the world totally on fire, when they spin out on drugs nobody quite understands. WTF are they gabbling on about? Are you sure? I for one need to see where I’m going. The days dull, but not next weekend, should be fine with good company, a fine chit chat, the odd fish, and some good bourbon … now you’re talking!! That will fire the inner man in you girls. Gives you curls and pink pantihose that hide all, and no more stinky festering armpits with scaly sores. Here’s some Savlon to slap on, and rub in to your *%$#@# … ouch, that burns like deep heat on the end of your long red hot poker hanging between your ankles, swollen like balloons on golden chains, waiting for relief … but never comes … Oh the pain, then, splash! Ahhhhhhh … dropped its guts on the table, then drips on to the floor. The dog licks then gags and licks it again, and swallows the foul smelling bile, then pukes it up all over the Vicar of the Toyota Club, who falls over and lands on putrid dog puke .. in his mouth …
Lurrrvely jubbly said the blind man. Can’t see but the bald hamster and the frog made out casually until the python showed them a fang or two to do while waiting for … not that again!!! I’m lost here? No bloody wonder. GPS batteries wet your finger. Wet my finger? And put it into your ear in the air. Feeling the air was like making love in the back of a hay shed .. a bit prickly, oh but the pork tastes great. Especially the crackling, which is always good. Hair down the throat. Cough it up buttercup and let me change the direction of sick puppies that will get up scotties nose, chewing red noses and deer antlers and black gum on eucalypt leaves, which koala’s stuff, rubbing red noses on his elbow and still waiting for bigrig’s update. Come back Rosscoe. Seriously, please do as scotty’s swamped. Can’t handle the ducks in the pool of beer. Scotty threw up at the thought, just before renigging what he’s supposed (to do) on the bottle, to have agreed to look after the dhucks on the isle of white wedding bliss, with frilly garters, and a blue thong hanging from his runny nose, green slimey wet bits in them. Amazingly, he licked with his prickly green continental cucumber looking long tongue. His own …… long, wait and left handed, took hold of the sky hook and lifted high above big toe with his nose ….
Please come back Rosscoe!!! by the way ... I am in Sydney Thursday arvo through to Monday, so I'll throw up an update on Thursday morning, and the back to Rosscoe on his return !!! YIP YAH !!!!
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