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Sir Hamilton Twizzleton-Shrimp, the famed Arctic explorer and bon viveur, the man who single handedly crossed the barren wastes of Greenland on an eskimo sled.

"I didn't cross the frozen wastes just to spend the rest of my life pretending to be Miss Higgy!" he exclaimed. "I only did this because I want to be in the Navy." He fumbled in his pockets and pulled out a large shiny steam iron.

The assembled stokers murmered and muttered to themselves.....

"Its a 500 Watt Rowenta 34xsi with triple steam jet, self cleaning and water mist sprayer...... surely they will let me join now?"
The stokers looked on bemused, then took Miss Piggy by the hand and lowered her down the ladder (one advantage of arms sooooo long that one's knuckles scrape the deck) where her derriere landed on Janner's cupper hands. Miss Piggy was led away, lowered down a hatchway into the holy of holies: the Stokers' Grot. Still clutching her 1000W Rowenta super-steam, all-singing-all-dancing iron, she was confronted with washing line secured to the various hammock hooks and loads-a-washin drying. The PO Stoker set up the ironing board and said to Miss Higgy, strip down to your keks and start ironing this lot, thus. The PO Stoker showed her the correct way to iron matelots ovvies, etc, and she.......
cracked on with it - creases in the right places and starched collars all evident. Twizzleton-Shrimp was not sure he'd made the right decision. He'd wanted action and a great-coat like he'd seen Jack Hawkins wear in the Cruel Sea.....
Meanwhile, topside, Hig and the TV crew had recovered their composure. The stokers had all disappeared. What the fcuk was happening to him this time?
Tony Robinson threw him a line.......
Yes topside was Hig's male alter ego whilst his other self was down below in a hot, sweaty stoker's grot, bussily ironing away whilst the stokers all lay on the deck admiring her frilly keks.

Stop it boys. Eem not amused! She said, not being used to rough stoker types.

We're just checking everything's OK... no pipes leaking.. that nothing needs tightening up... or loosening. Said one randy stoker.

Or lubricating! said Nicolson the Giant (son of Nicks the Dwarf) as he downed another bottle of vodka laced Tizer.

Or stripping down.... piped up another, with a grin on his face.

Neyw, step it! Said Miss Higgy, seriously concerned that her sexual integrity was under assault.

When I was a gal at Rodean.... she continued, but was rudely interrupted by Nicks the Drawf piping Action Stations over the tannoy. The hatch was slammed shut, just as the BBC camerawoman, Rosina de Carley, was about to poke her lens into an unwelcome spot: Admiral Maxi's secret stash of rum. Rosina and Miss Higgy were trapped.... and in more ways that one ;) The stokers were happy, at least.

Amidst all the confusion, the PO Stoker had left his Swarfega Stokers Sun Lotion (SSSL) on the Sun Deck where he'd been cultivating a the 'Skimmer Look', the sought after tanned skin that was denied to dwellers of The Deep. As his heavy boots clanked down the ladder he suddently heared a squuk of pain, for his trodden on Rosina's big right toe. She shouted......
With legs like those, YES MAM! And he proceeded to get on all fours and licked his way upwards, under no protest whatsoever from Rosina, until he reached her...
...thighs, where he stopped, his tongue assaulted by her bare flesh. Uurgh! spluttered the PO Stoker, having just licked all the way up her red shiny leather, thigh length, mock Prada boots. Now that he was on his knees he thought he better kill two birds with a monostone, so he said, in his most romantic voice:


Oi, Miss De Carley, would you ficking marry me? :drool:

Fick off Stokes. I'm already civil partnered, to Miranda Finknottle! said she, assertivly. Oooooo, the PO Stoker just looooved assertive women.

Whip me with your rhythm stick, whip me, whip me, whip me! he begged, tongue hanging out.

Oh fick off. Git up and fetch me a pint of rum!

Yeeesssss Mam! : :w00t:

And off he doubled to fetch the said medicine from Admiral de Maxi's special "secret" stash.

Whilst this was going on Roddy Le Gearing (nicknamed Leggy) was preening himself, like all submariners, before the boat's only preening mirror, situated in the Stewards Grot, for his sought after night with the Princess Royal herself: Miss Higgy, whose posh way of speaking and wiggling her hips made his bits'n'bobs tingle with excitement.

Whilst all this was going on Nutty and Janner were engaged in battle with Blobbs and his multistory mixiblobs. As a Booty he insisted under Royal Rules that mixiblobs could be several blobs high, but this was disputed by Janner who insisted that you could only stack red blobbs (his counters were red) whilst Nutty sat back grinning. Off he popped to the Magnolia Bar in the POs Mess, where a nice looking Steward, Gordon, in a low cut white front, was warming spanish brandy (captured from the Armada) in a glass on an inverted glass with burning brandy in its foot.

Suddenly something terrible happened.......
Who knows, or dares to dream?
The PO Stoker returned to Rosina with a pint of rum.
"She looks like a bloke in drag" he thought. Maybe it was the bruise on her cheek. "She can't be - I've just licked my way from boots to booty".
An awful thought struck him. He spun her round, bent her over and lifted her skirt. There followed a moment akin to the end of Ace Ventura 1. There, sticking out of the back of her scimpy nicks was a toggle and 2.

He threw up.

In the rum.

Rosy just stared at him and.........
proceeded to remove her strap-on and handed it to the PO Stoker and said.

Oi you. Git this scrubbed, polished and swarfega'd for my next bout in bed with Miranda. Mme Finknottle grinned, looking forward to her next dose of Ram it I'm RDP: the code word for lesbosex, so beloved of those who plot things on perspex and write back-to-front with chinagraph pencils.

Shep's head and guitar appeared from the forend where he'd been waxing his head, and he proceeded to sing a song....
"Met him on a Monday and my heart stood still.

He stopped. Why was everyone staring at him?
"Well?" he asked.
"WTF was that?" sneered Rosy.
"I bet you were expecting 'I was walking thru the dockyard one mornin bright an fair' wasn't you?" he retorted. "Who chucked?"
"That pitiful excuse for a PO Stoker" repllied Rosy, pointing at the rapidly disappearing figure of said PO with strap on in hand.
"What a waste of good rum. Shall I sing you another?"
But it was too late for at just that moment Baldrick appeared on the scene and started blabbing on about HMS Bootneck's resemblance to the newly launched IRA Bootneck ibn Yank named after a hero of 2007, over 200 years ago, exactly 150 years after the US had become the Islamic Republic of America (IRA) following a constitutional amendment by President Bin Laid'en in 2049:

Marriage shall be between one Muslim man and a Muslim woman.

At the same time the New Zealanders had voted to define marriage as the union of one man and one hundred sheep, a move copied by the Welsh in the Sheep Marriage Act 2051, and para-emulated by Scotland's President Smith in his 2050 Haggis Act which allowed only the union of one man and one haggis.

Aside from all this the PO Stoker reappeared smothered in Swarfega and walked up to Rosie da Luxembourg and asked her to be his mistress.

OK, she said, but only if Miranda could bring her inflatable sheep......

They were wed on the spot by Father Slim, blessed by Her Holiness Pope Julia II (Father Slim's wife) and whisked away to their honeymoon in the romantic surroundings of the Stoker's Grot onboard HMS Big Mac [Sponsored by McDonalds].

Meanwhile in the real world Miss Higgy had exposed herself to the Stokers who were shocked to find she had more than a toggle-or-two and her real name was Twizzleton-Shrimp, son of the famous explorer Cherie Twizzleton-Shrimp FRSE who discovered that Scotland wasn't an island after all but connected to a place called England, which had shocked the nation, used to the 100 foot high fence that had separated the Scots from the English since the English voted to expel Scotland from the Union in 2020. Cherie had discovered that the English weren't the oppressed, downtrodden people Scottish school books made out, but were happy, richer and free, and had a more varied diet than the Gruel diet that was the norm in the People's Caledonian Republic. :twisted:

Baldrick, facing the camera, addressed the audience.

Here is the remnants of a boat that the IRA's Bootneck ibn Yank was designed to emulate. HMS Bootneck was the last RN vessel paid for out of taxation. In those days the armed forces were not owned and sponsored by big business. These were the days before the Coldstream-Harrods Guards, RAF American Express and HMS Birds Eye, before the days when sailors were given the rank McDonalds Bodied Seaman (MaccyB Seas) and Primark Petty Officer.... or Durex-Master-Bates... before the days when you had NHS Sponsored by Mastercard, and the Texaco Houses of Parliament. It seems astonishing that once taxation was used to finance the armed forces, government, the civil service and even the police, and that it was government that levied taxes rather than Barclays Shareholder Revenue, but in those days these quaint ideas were the norm.

Bloody hell! Shouted Nutty from below. He couldn't believe that these ideas, first introduced by the President McCain in the US following his election victory in the 2008 US elections had just 15 years later been introduced by the New Conservatives under Prime Minister......

Shut that fuccking hatch!

And it came to pass. It was all too much. Slim pressed the RED button and.......
...noted the way everything suddenly slowed down. It was like looking at the world thru thick glass and moving thru golden syrup. People were screaming. Hig dived in slo-mo for his hand, trying to push it away. Rosy dropped her PO Stoker and swung around, tit-whipping Baldrick into a fuse panel.
Normal time and speed was re-introduced. There was a rush of heat, an almighty blast and then....nothing.
Had it all ended in one huge explosion? Had Slim destroyed the world?
No,he had only followed through after an almighty passing of wind.
Last time I have Dolphin paste sarnies for tea he exclaimed,anyway wheres my whip?

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