Indiana Jones and the Engine of Steam

Posted by Orient Meat Pie from 199.53.100.66 on March 21, 2000 at 08:36:22:

Hello! Here's Ivor. He's been off down the colliery to help ferry a box full of P45's to the pithead, just in time for tea. It was very tiring work. The dragons in his boiler were getting very hot and bothered, so Ivor pulled into the sidings. Peeershticuff...Peeershticuff...Peeershticuff.
Ah! Here's Mr. Jones, the intrepid explorer and railway engineer. "Hello, Ivor!", said Jones. "You look exhausted! Here - let me fill you up with water and coal." The dragons eyes lit up - a drink at last!
"Ivor", said Mr. Jones. "I wonder if you'd do me a big favour. I need to explore the Evil Valley of the Damned this afternoon. Its just past Llanglollen, on your right. Would you mind dropping me off on your way to pick up Mrs. Snatchgoo from the bakers?"
"Poop, poop!!!!" protested Ivor, but it was too late. Jones was already aboard, with his Welsh Railways cowboy hat and driver's satchel hanging off the butt of his Plaid Cymru bullwhip. "Let's go!" he yelled in excitement.
As they trundled down the tracks, Ivor noticed that he was getting quicker and quicker. "Poop, POOOPPPPP!!!!" he cried out, hoping Jones would apply the brakes. But alas, years of dribbling leek and doffodil soup over the side of the engine had caused the braking mechanism to seaze up. Faster and faster they ran, over hill, down valley, through blowdart-strewn tunnels, over shark-infested waters and off into the rapidly setting sun. "Oh no!" shouted Jones. "Pooop, poop!" blew Ivor. A sharp bend approached, Jones grabbed the brakes one more time. His bacon and honey sandwiches flew out of his satchel. He grabbed his bullwhip and with lightning speed, lassoed a nearby totem pole carved into the shape of Arthur Scargill. Clinging with all his might, Jones prayed the chip-eating natives of North Wales would be otherwise distracted at some Eistedford, and that Ivor would slow down. Miraculously, the train stopped. Jones sighed a sigh of relief, Ivor unceremoniously dumped his nutty slack on the tracks through the recent bout of nerves.
Slowly, the dust settled, and Jones tried to work out where they could sleep until morning. And then "Crack!". What was that? As he peered through the forest of burnt sofas and cider bottles, Jones could just make out a dark, curly-haired troll in shell suit, resplendant in ketchup and bike grease - the uniform of the national guard. "Oh my!" said Jones. "Its Max Boyce! We're done for now, boyo."
Fearing the worst, Ivor opened the coal hatch and released the dragons. The dragons, grateful for some sunlight and at least one acting scene, ran towards the shellsuit, flames spurting from their saliva-soaked mouths. "Stop! Its me!" yelled the shellsuit. As he came clearer, his true identity was revealed. "Hey, look Ivor! Its my uncle Tom Jones!". And with a collective sigh of relief, they all climbed aboard Ivor and headed for home. "What an exciting day we've all had!" thought Ivor. Peeershticuff...Peeershticuff...Peeershticuff...

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p.s. Orient Meat Pie 08:54:04 3/21/2000 (1)
- Re: p.s. ISTABRAQ 09:59:21 3/21/2000 (0)

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: Hello! Here's Ivor. He's been off down the colliery to help ferry a box full of P45's to the pithead, just in time for tea. It was very tiring work. The dragons in his boiler were getting very hot and bothered, so Ivor pulled into the sidings. Peeershticuff...Peeershticuff...Peeershticuff.
: Ah! Here's Mr. Jones, the intrepid explorer and railway engineer. "Hello, Ivor!", said Jones. "You look exhausted! Here - let me fill you up with water and coal." The dragons eyes lit up - a drink at last!
: "Ivor", said Mr. Jones. "I wonder if you'd do me a big favour. I need to explore the Evil Valley of the Damned this afternoon. Its just past Llanglollen, on your right. Would you mind dropping me off on your way to pick up Mrs. Snatchgoo from the bakers?"
: "Poop, poop!!!!" protested Ivor, but it was too late. Jones was already aboard, with his Welsh Railways cowboy hat and driver's satchel hanging off the butt of his Plaid Cymru bullwhip. "Let's go!" he yelled in excitement.
: As they trundled down the tracks, Ivor noticed that he was getting quicker and quicker. "Poop, POOOPPPPP!!!!" he cried out, hoping Jones would apply the brakes. But alas, years of dribbling leek and doffodil soup over the side of the engine had caused the braking mechanism to seaze up. Faster and faster they ran, over hill, down valley, through blowdart-strewn tunnels, over shark-infested waters and off into the rapidly setting sun. "Oh no!" shouted Jones. "Pooop, poop!" blew Ivor. A sharp bend approached, Jones grabbed the brakes one more time. His bacon and honey sandwiches flew out of his satchel. He grabbed his bullwhip and with lightning speed, lassoed a nearby totem pole carved into the shape of Arthur Scargill. Clinging with all his might, Jones prayed the chip-eating natives of North Wales would be otherwise distracted at some Eistedford, and that Ivor would slow down. Miraculously, the train stopped. Jones sighed a sigh of relief, Ivor unceremoniously dumped his nutty slack on the tracks through the recent bout of nerves.
: Slowly, the dust settled, and Jones tried to work out where they could sleep until morning. And then "Crack!". What was that? As he peered through the forest of burnt sofas and cider bottles, Jones could just make out a dark, curly-haired troll in shell suit, resplendant in ketchup and bike grease - the uniform of the national guard. "Oh my!" said Jones. "Its Max Boyce! We're done for now, boyo."
: Fearing the worst, Ivor opened the coal hatch and released the dragons. The dragons, grateful for some sunlight and at least one acting scene, ran towards the shellsuit, flames spurting from their saliva-soaked mouths. "Stop! Its me!" yelled the shellsuit. As he came clearer, his true identity was revealed. "Hey, look Ivor! Its my uncle Tom Jones!". And with a collective sigh of relief, they all climbed aboard Ivor and headed for home. "What an exciting day we've all had!" thought Ivor. Peeershticuff...Peeershticuff...Peeershticuff...

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