Thank you for calling the fundamentalist speaking clock. At the third stroke it'll be exactly 6004 years, 13 months, 16 days, 5 hours, 4 minutes and 40 seconds since creation.
This is a really stupid job, I mean, you can get wristwatches that automatically synchronise to the Riugby transmitter, and any sensible mobile phone will sync as soon as you turn it on, and you can get the time over the internet, and your cable feed will keep your DVR on time, so what does anyone need to ring me up for? It's like that woman who carried the time from Greenwich to London right up until 1939, when they'd had the telegraph since the nineteenth century. This isn't a proper job, it's a living history exhibit, and at the third stroke it will be time to heave yourself into the 21st century.
"ohhhhh baby, I know how you like it....slowwww and steeeeady...tick tock....tick tock...oh yesssss...that's the rhythm you like.....and I can give it to you darling, 24/7....tick tock....tick tock....i won't let you down doll, 'cause I've got ambidextrous hands....and a one track mind....tick tock....tick tock....slowwww and steeeeady....just the way you like it....ohhhhhhhhhh yeahhhhhhhhhhhhh....who's your daddy now?.....tick tock....tick tock...."
My first is in flannel but not in towel my second's in shovel and also in trowel my third is in upshot and utter and u-bolt my fourth is in rifle and also in Northolt my fifth is in twaddle and teaspoon and teddy my sixth is in Helen but never in Reddy my seventh in iron is first in the line my eighth is in red sky a delightful sign my ninth is in toothbrush and taxi and tack my tenth is in yo-yo and yam and in yak just add thirty seconds, by now make it fifty and you've got the time without looking. How nifty!
The big hand is pointing somewhere between the twelve and the one, the little hand is pointing somewhere between the three and the six. So it must be twenty past twelve. or so. ish.
Look! The sooner you finish the two press-ups, the sooner we can get down to the Sunday Buffet at the Chinese. It's 9.99 for everything you can eat today.
Here boy, here boy, Over to the running machine! Come on! That's it. Goooooood boy. Have a chocolate treat. All right, come on, boy, jump up. Gooood. All right, here we go... Walkies!
Now, sit on the floor cross-legged, lotus posture if you can manage it, close your eyes, and chant along wth me, "Ommmmm.....", and as you feel the vibrations filling you, visualise those muscles getting stronger, "OMMMmmmmmmm.........., imagine running effortlessly, "OMMMMMMmmmmmmm.............."
Right, twenty pressups NOW, and if I see that flabby belly touch the floor once, *thwack* it'll be six more of these *thwack*. And remember to say "Thank you, Mistress" after each one or you'll get an hour chained to the treadmill.
[Rosie] I think perhaps Simons' title is too broad. He may be asking for "furry fandom" input, on the other hand he may, for example, mean the tall skeleton with the hooded black robe and the scythe. I think clarification is required before any posts can be made, or we'll all be confused.