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What's the most unusual object you own?



smeariestbat

New member
May 5, 2012
1,731
a scorpion in perspex my darling brother brought back from afghanistan
 




Bevendean Hillbilly

New member
Sep 4, 2006
12,805
Nestling in green nowhere
i never denied the holocaust - but questioned the MSM 6m figure when the museums recently changed the number from 4m to 1m.

....but the diary - jeez - just do 5 mins research.....ball point pens weren't even around then.

You have stated before that you believe the Holocaust had been massively overstated by "zionists" who control the media. You have used neo nazi websites to back up your claims and you were banned for it.

You are possibly the most gullible poster on NSC who sees conspiracy in everything and you have NEVER posted anything to persuade me there is merit in ANY of your loony theories.

Access to the Internet has seriously warped your world view. You are highly selective which "evidence" you rely on and refuse to accept that,with extraordinary claims, extraordinary evidence is required. If you can't? Well, you just look like a fukwit.
 


The Fifth Column

Retired ex-cop
Nov 30, 2010
4,023
Escaped from Corruption
i never denied the holocaust - but questioned the MSM 6m figure when the museums recently changed the number from 4m to 1m.

....but the diary - jeez - just do 5 mins research.....ball point pens weren't even around then.

When will someone ban this utter moron from posting his offensive drivel on here?
 


















W.C.

New member
Oct 31, 2011
4,927
When i trapped a princely badger on one of my heartless nocturnal hunting trips, it traded its life for one of the famed diaries of its uncle, Sandranimus, written on the palm leaves he'd had shipped in from Southeast Asia. I agreed and was enrapt by a particular month in which the royally nervous nighttime creeper was caught in a closed-off sett and spent his time thinking and writing and imagining an outside world he was so meanly kept from. Sandranimus, with the aid of beastly winter showers whose drip the 8-foot thick ceiling wouldn't stop the dribble through of, used the dirt around him to invent and mould a family, all of them precisely 12 inches in height. This entire underworld town was his life, and those who forbade his edicts he would feast on as the others simply stillly watched on. I read of his solitude and the muddy statuettes that allowed him to converse and rule and mate with the most constructedly attractive, and wept with both admiration and envy. The diary came to an end on the verge of his escape from night full of floods and winds that would shake the earth, and i longed for more, catching each night umpteens of what seemed his breed, none of whom had heard of Sandranimus or the legend i'd had but a glimpse of. Of course this meant each of their demise, and i imagined myself to become a medusaic culling myth to the beasts of that ungainly knoll, but for all the cash i made for their pelts, and bladders for medicinal brews, it were nothing to the tales i'd hunt forever more 'til now for and never claim.

Write a book please.
 
















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