Now that ''malcolm'' has joined and posted his thread asking advice, what's the point in finishing this story when he can tell us himself.
Hopefully he'll tell all before he gets banned or leaps from a balcony in Pattaya
Now that ''malcolm'' has joined and posted his thread asking advice, what's the point in finishing this story when he can tell us himself.
Hopefully he'll tell all before he gets banned or leaps from a balcony in Pattaya
Too much dosh... I reckon he will eventually start a pie business, once settled down with a pleasant Issanite.Originally Posted by DJ Pat
Well Pat it appears that Malcolm asked for advice in an OP that he wrote after the initial Slap story had been available for a while.
So I take it that if Slap does not publish chapter 2 then Malcolm has no story to follow.
Now Malcolm can prove me wrong by posting independently .
Malcolm in a Muddle is obviously an imposter:
Jesus, the guy can write like you slap. Gotta be fake, that, what?Originally Posted by malcolm in a muddle
That's some food for thought there, Slap. Hope you haven't finished chapter 2 yet. Put some juicy bio in it to flesh this Malcolm in a Muddle out. Then some suggestions about living on a farm in the sticks with a town nearby that has a pharmacy that sells valium and a go-go bar where he can meet his smooci dates.Originally Posted by wasabi
“The Master said, At fifty, I knew what were the biddings of Heaven. At sixty, I heard them with docile ear. At seventy, I could follow the dictates of my own heart; for what I desired no longer overstepped the boundaries of right.”
Part two: An office party for one
Malcolm arrived at work on this crisp December morning feeling decidedly brazen.
He swaggered into the office on Southwark, winked at Alison Braithwaite who was manning reception, and grinned broadly at Timothy Tatham as he hung up his coat and hat.
Sitting down at his desk now, looking in over a sea of bowed heads rather than out, as many in his office did, over the spiky skyline of London, Malcolm opened his Yahoo inbox and began composing an email, strictly for Tatham's eyes only.
After 10 minutes of careful construction, he proofread his mail — giggling childishly as he went back through the content.
"Dear Timothy,
It appears that you and I haven't got off to the best of starts. And since you're due to stay with us for several months on work experience, I would consider it a thoroughly spanking plan if we buried the hatchet and began working together on the Bridgewater account. I have the knowhow, you have the streetsmarts, what say we convene at the Victoria Tower Gardens for lunch and thrash out the details?
Best
Malcolm Fitzpatrick
ps. I've got Spanish chorizo and roasted onion salad for lunch. Bring a fork - there's enough for two!
Pressing send, Malcolm reclined as far as his cheap office chair would allow him and began inspecting his purchases: gaffer tape, an aluminium garden waste bin, and a wooden mallet. He drank in the items with his eyes, filling them with pure, unbridled evil. Then he began to laugh; a high pitched, uncontrollable shriek which became so loud and animated that soon every single person in the office had circled Malcolm's workspace, curious of the reason for this brouhaha.
Oblivious to the growing number of spectators, Malcolm had become so excited at the thought of bludgeoning Tatham to death in a central London park, that he thrust his right hand into his underpants and began ferociously tugging at his penis.
So the manically laughing, furiously wanking Malcolm now had spectatorship of several dozen. Timothy Tatham was already uploading a five second clip of the incident to YouTube and Stephanie Shirkford had passed out.
It was only when Tatham shouted, "Smile for the camera, you fucking sex case" that Malcolm snapped to from his reverie and the realisation of what was actually happening very, very gradually sunk in.
"Get out of this office now!" boomed David Kerricky, the company's director. And with that, leaving his Robert Dyas purchases behind, Malcolm hurried a few keepsakes from his desk into his bag, and ran, nay sprinted, out of his ex place of employment and made a beeline for the nearest train station.
The humilation was unbearable.
Malcolm had no other option but to leave the country - and never come back.
I'm so glad Tathum escaped the disturbed murderer.
I still vote for L.A.Originally Posted by somtamslap
I imagine Malcolm will be a visa runner for many years.
We're polishing off stools for him right now, one at the Winchester and one at the boiler room where you can earn enough for as many old boilers as you desire
No place like LOS? Without a retirement visa? But you're write D-boy. I think slap just poked the tip of the iceberg out in the middle of the Gulf of Thailand. The first meltdown is in the book(s).Originally Posted by david44
Yonks ago I ran a technical recruitment agency and I sent 1 guy off to work for Marconi, but he was caught wanking in the company library and my agency was blacklisted for sending 'perverts' to client companies...that he thrust his right hand into his underpants and began ferociously tugging at his penis.
Steady on. Malcolm is but a misguided serial masturbator.Originally Posted by wasabi
Alas, Malcolm, I have it on good authority, is currently ensconsed in an airbus headed East; flying over Calcutta while watching Home Alone 2 on the inflight entertainment system.Originally Posted by Sumbitch
Keep the Pimms on ice.Originally Posted by david44
You can't polish a stool, or if you can, it would still be a stool.Originally Posted by david44
Just like rolling one in glitter, it's still a stool.
I note that you have used eleven words. Who the hell is "Smegagain" ?Originally Posted by Cujo
is that some sort of a pommy poofter lingo ??? Please enlighten us.Originally Posted by somtamslap
How come the only hot librarians to be seen are in porn movies, just like nurses.
and Figby Dantona the the British Airways blight attendantOriginally Posted by Digby Fantona
How about cutting the crap and getting Malcolm on the damn plane
I agree. Think about the publicity attendant with the true life story of other posters (besides Malcolm in a Muddle).Originally Posted by david44
"Afternoon Earthlings, Malcolm here.
Well, what can I say? Five minutes of masturbating madness and my 20 years of employment with Sessions Ltd comes to a sudden and permanent end. Now I shall never be able to exact revenge on that terrible Timothy Tatham creature, and my love for Murtle McIntyre shall remain unrequited. Oh woe, woe, woe - grrreat, grreat woe is me!
Oh well. Here I am in Victoria station at the beginning of my mammoth sabbatical out East. And look at that - a Burger King! Excuse me a moment. I'm about to get up close and personal with some processed flesh."
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