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The title explains it all, so be nice and share. Most people hate he dominatrix memes so lets try to not do those but if you do thats not my problem take it up with them.
I have never understood it, but the Kharn is a Pretty Swell/Nice/Awesome Guy to Be Around is a big thing (sorry, at work so a lot of posts are showing up with RED X OF DOOM so if someone else posted that, I apologize). I also really like the picture of the Commissar in a tank with his sword drawn with the caption "Drive me closer so I can hit it with my sword!".
See, you're trying to use people logic. DM uses Mandelogic, which we've established has 2+2=quack. - Aerethan
Putin.....would make a Vulcan Intelligence officer cry. - Jihadin
AFAIK, there is only one world, and it is the real world. - Iron_Captain
DakkaRank Comment: I sound like a Power Ranger.
TFOL and proud. Also a Forge World Fan.
I should really paint some of my models instead of browsing forums.
This message was edited 3 times. Last update was at 2015/07/02 15:12:59
blood reaper wrote: I will respect human rights and trans people but I will never under any circumstances use the phrase 'folks' or 'ya'll'. I would rather be killed by firing squad.
the_scotsman wrote: Yeah, when i read the small novel that is the Death Guard unit options and think about resolving the attacks from a melee-oriented min size death guard squad, the thing that springs to mind is "Accessible!"
Argive wrote: GW seems to have a crystal ball and just pulls hairbrained ideas out of their backside for the most part.
You're not. If you're worried about your opponent using 'fake' rules, you're having fun the wrong way. This hobby isn't about rules. It's about buying Citadel miniatures.
Please report to your nearest GW store for attitude readjustment. Take your wallet.
vipoid wrote: Singularity, you have to get the URL of the image itself - the wiki page with it won't be recognised as an image, even when it ends with ".jpg".
Greebo had spent an irritating two minutes in that box. Technically, a cat locked in a box may be alive or it may be dead. You never know until you look. In fact, the mere act of opening the box will determine the state of the cat, although in this case there were three determinate states the cat could be in: these being Alive, Dead, and Bloody Furious.
Orks always ride in single file to hide their strength and numbers.
Gozer the Gozerian, Gozer the Destructor, Volguus Zildrohar, Gozer the Traveler, and Lord of the Sebouillia
Since (I'm assuming) the thread is supposed to be "wh40k jokes, memes and awesome" (as compared to "joke memes"), I will now spoiler some of the jokes I posted in a previous thread. Enjoy.
Spoiler:
Hal Ifle: Good morning, ma'am.
Sister Koriander: Good morning. I was sitting in the Schola Progenum on Thurmon Street just now, skimming through 'Rogue Heretics' by Horus Warphole, when suddenly I came over all irate.
Hal Ifle: Irate, ma'am?
Sister Koriander: Livid.
Hal Ifle: Eh?
Sister Koriander: (broad Yorkshire) Eee I were all angry, like!
Hal Ifle: Oh, angry.
Sister Koriander: (normal accent) In a nutshell. So I thought to myself, 'a little dead witch will do the trick'. So I curtailed my Warpholing activites, sallied forth and infiltrated your place of purveyance to negotiate the vending of some new armaments. (rubs her palms)
Hal Ifle: Come again.
Sister Koriander: (broad nothern accent) I want to buy some guns.
Hal Ifle: Oh, I thought you were complaining about the music!
Sister Koriander: (normal voice) Emperor forbid. I am one who delights in all manifestations of the imperium muse.
Hal Ifle: Sorry?
Sister Koriander: I like a nice prayer - you're forced to.
Quick cut to a Space Wolf.
Space Wolf: (broad Northern accent) Anyway.
Cut back to weapon shop.
Hal Ifle: Who said that?
Sister Koriander: (normal voice) Now my good man, a gun, please.
Hal Ifle: Yes certainly, ma'am. What would you like?
Sister Koriander: Well, how about a little Plasma Pistol.
Hal Ifle: I'm, afraid we're fresh out of Plasma Pistols, ma'am.
Sister Koriander: Oh, never mind. How are you on Laspistols?
Hal Ifle: Never at the end of the week, Ma'am. Always get them fresh first thing on Monday.
Sister Koriander: Tish tish. No matter. Well, four Frag Grenades, then, if you please, stout yeoman.
Hal Ifle: Ah well, it's been on order for two weeks, ma'am, I was expecting it this morning.
Sister Koriander: Yes, it's not my day, is it? Er, Autogun?
Hal Ifle: Sorry.
Sister Koriander: Combi-flamer?
Hal Ifle: Normally, ma'am, yes, but today the van broke down.
Sister Koriander: Ah. Hot-shot Lasgun?
Hal Ifle: Sorry.
Sister Koriander: Autocannon? Sniper Rifle?
Hal Ifle: No.
Sister Koriander: Any Grav-guns?
Hal Ifle: No.
Sister Koriander: Plasma Cannon?
Hal Ifle: No.
Sister Koriander: Lascannon?
Hal Ifle: No.
Sister Koriander: Assault Cannon?
Hal Ifle: No.
Sister Koriander: Heavy Bolter?
Hal Ifle: No.
Sister Koriander: Heavy Flamer?
Hal Ifle: ...No.
Sister Koriander: Lasgun?
Hal Ifle: No.
Sister Koriander: Any Mortars?
Hal Ifle: No.
Sister Koriander: Stub Gun, Storm Bolter, Demolition Charge, Bolt Pistol, Multi-Melta, Incinerator, Combi-Stake Crossbow, Shotgun, Autopistol, Hot-Shot Laspistol, Flamer?
Hal Ifle: Ah! We do have a Flamer, ma'am.
Sister Koriander: You do! Excellent.
Hal Ifle: It's a bit hot, ma'am.
Sister Koriander: Oh, I like it hot.
Hal Ifle: Well as a matter of fact it's very hot, ma'am.
Sister Koriander: No matter. No matter. Hand over l'arme des Xenos hideux appellent un Flamer, s'il vous plaît.
Hal Ifle: I think it's hotter than you like it, ma'am.
Sister Koriander: (smiling grimley) I don't care how Slaaneshi hot it is. Hand it over with all speed.
Hal Ifle: Yes, ma'am. (bends below counter and reappears) Oh...
Sister Koriander: What?
Hal Ifle: The mutant's eaten it.
Sister Koriander: Has he?
Hal Ifle: She, sir.
Sister Koriander: Heavy Incinerator?
Hal Ifle: No.
Sister Koriander: Krak Grenade?
Hal Ifle: No.
Sister Koriander: Combi-grav?
Hal Ifle: No.
Sister Koriander: Combi-Plasma?
Hal Ifle: No.
Sister Koriander: Heavy Stubber?
Hal Ifle: No, ma'am.
Sister Koriander: You do have some weapons, do you?
Hal Ifle: Certainly, ma'am. It's a weapon shop, ma'am. We've got...
Sister Koriander: No, no, no, don't tell me. I'm keen to guess.
Hal Ifle: Fair enough.
Sister Koriander: Hellrifle.
Hal Ifle: Yes, ma'am?
Sister Koriander: Splendid. Well, I'll have one of those then, please.
Hal Ifle: Oh, I'm sorry ma'am, I thought you were reffering to me, Mr Hal Ifle.
Sister Koriander: Plasma Gun?
Hal Ifle: No.
Sister Koriander: Inferno Pistol?
Hal Ifle: No.
Sister Koriander: Missile Launcher?
Hal Ifle: No.
Sister Koriander: Condemnor Boltgun?
Hal Ifle: No.
Sister Koriander: Any Grenade Launchers?
Hal Ifle: No.
Sister Koriander: Combi-Melta?
Hal Ifle: No.
Sister Koriander: Hand Flamer?
Hal Ifle: Not today ma'am, no.
(pause)
Sister Koriander: Well let's keep it simple, how about a Boltgun?
Hal Ifle: Well, I'm afraid we don't get much call for those around these parts.
Sister Koriander: No call for it? It's the single most popular weapon in the Imperium!
Hal Ifle: Not round these parts, ma'am.
Sister Koriander: And pray what is the most popular weapon round these parts?
Hal Ifle: Meltaguns, ma'am.
Sister Koriander: I see.
Hal Ifle: Yes, ma'am. It's quite staggeringly popular in the streets, Sister.
Sister Koriander: Is it.
Hal Ifle: Yes ma'am, it's our number-one seller.
Sister Koriander: Is it.
Hal Ifle: Yes ma'am.
Sister Koriander: Meltaguns, eh?
Hal Ifle: Right.
Sister Koriander: OK, I'm game. Have you got any, she asked, expecting the answer no?
Hal Ifle: I'll have a look, ma'am...nnnnnnooooooooo.
Sister Koriander: It's not much of a weapon shop really, is it?
Hal Ifle: Finest on the planet, ma'am.
Sister Koriander: And what leads you to that conclusion?
Hal Ifle: Well, it's so clean.
Sister Koriander: Well, it's certainly uncontaminated by weapons.
Hal Ifle: You haven't asked me about Grav-pistol, ma'am.
Sister Koriander: Is it worth it?
Hal Ifle: Could be.
Sister Koriander: OK, have you...will you shut that bloody praying up! (the praying stops)
Hal Ifle: (to congregants) Told you so.
Sister Koriander: Have you got any Grav-pistols?
Hal Ifle: No.
Sister Koriander: No, that figures. It was pretty predictable, really. It was an act of purest optimism to pose the question in the first place. Tell me something, do you have any weapons at all?
Hal Ifle: Yes, ma'am.
Sister Koriander: Now I'm going to ask you that question once more, and if you say 'no' I'm going to shoot you through the head. Now, do you have any weapons at all?
Hal Ifle: No.
Sister Koriander: (shoots him) What a senseless waste of human life.
Spoiler:
Marbo: Trouble at Hive.
St. Celestine: Oh no - what kind of trouble?
Marbo: One on't green skins gone owt to battle on pond.
St. Celestine: Pardon?
Marbo: One on't green skins gone owt to battle on pond.
St. Celestine: I don't understand what you're saying.
Marbo: [slightly irritatedly and with exaggeratedly clear accent] One of the green skins has gone out to battle on the pond.
St. Celestine: Well what on earth does that mean?
Marbo: *I* don't know - Mr Creed just told me to come in here and say that there was trouble at the Hive, that's all - I didn't expect a kind of Imperial Inquisition.
[JARRING CHORD]
[The door flies open and Inquisitor Ximinez enters, flanked by two junior inquisitors. Inquisitor Biggles has goggles pushed over his forehead. Inquisitor Fang is just Inquisitor Fang]
Ximinez: NOBODY expects the Imperial Inquisition! Our chief weapon is surprise...surprise and fear...fear and surprise.... Our two weapons are fear and surprise...and ruthless efficiency.... Our *three* weapons are fear, surprise, and ruthless efficiency...and an almost fanatical devotion to the Emperor.... Our *four*...no... *Amongst* our weapons.... Amongst our weaponry...are such elements as fear, surprise.... I'll come in again.
[The Inquisition exits]
Marbo: I didn't expect a kind of Imperial Inquisition.
[JARRING CHORD]
[The inquisitors burst in]
Ximinez: NOBODY expects the Imperial Inquisition! Amongst our weaponry are such diverse elements as: fear, surprise, ruthless efficiency, an almost fanatical devotion to the Emperor, and nice red uniforms - Oh damn!
[To Inquisitor Biggles] I can't say it - you'll have to say it.
Biggles: What?
Ximinez: You'll have to say the bit about 'Our chief weapons are ...'
Biggles: [rather horrified]: I couldn't do that...
[Ximinez bundles the inquisitors outside again]
Marbo: I didn't expect a kind of Imperial Inquisition.
[JARRING CHORD]
[The inquisitors enter]
Biggles: Er.... Nobody...um....
Ximinez: Expects...
Biggles: Expects... Nobody expects the...um...the Imperial...um...
Ximinez: Inquisition.
Biggles: I know, I know! Nobody expects the Imperial Inquisition. In fact, those who do expect -
Ximinez: Our chief weapons are...
Biggles: Our chief weapons are...um...er...
Ximinez: Surprise...
Biggles: Surprise and --
Ximinez: Okay, stop. Stop. Stop there - stop there. Stop. Phew! Ah! ... our chief weapons are surprise...blah blah blah. Inquisitor, read the charges.
Fang: You are hereby charged that you did on diverse dates commit heresy against the Holy Empire of Mankind. 'My old man said follow the--'
Biggles: That's enough.
[To St. Celestine] Now, how do you plead?
St. Celestine: We're innocent.
Ximinez: Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!
[DIABOLICAL LAUGHTER]
Biggles: We'll soon change your mind about that!
[DIABOLICAL ACTING]
Ximinez: Fear, surprise, and a most ruthless-- [controls himself with a supreme effort] Ooooh! Now, Inquisitor -- the rack!
[Biggles produces a plastic-coated dish-drying rack. Ximinez looks at it and clenches his teeth in an effort not to lose control. He hums heavily to cover his anger]
Ximinez: You....Right! Tie her down.
[Fang and Biggles make a pathetic attempt to tie her on to the drying rack]
Ximinez:Right! How do you plead?
St. Celestine: Innocent.
Ximinez: Ha! Right! Inquisitor, give the rack [oh dear] give the rack a turn.
[Biggles stands their awkwardly and shrugs his shoulders]
Biggles: I....
Ximinez: [gritting his teeth] I *know*, I know you can't. I didn't want to say anything. I just wanted to try and ignore your crass mistake.
Biggles: I...
Ximinez: It makes it all seem so stupid.
Biggles: Shall I...?
Ximinez: No, just pretend for God's sake. Ha! Ha! Ha!
[Biggles turns an imaginary handle on the side of the dish-rack]
[Cut to them torturing a grizzled old Commissar, Sebastion Yarrick]
Ximinez: Now, Lord Commissar -- you are accused of heresy on three counts -- heresy by thought, heresy by word, heresy by deed, and heresy by action -- *four* counts. Do you confess?
Yarrick: I don't understand what I'm accused of.
Ximinez: Ha! Then we'll make you understand! Biggles! Fetch...THE CUSHIONS!
[JARRING CHORD]
[Biggles holds out two ordinary modern household cushions]
Biggles: Here they are, lord.
Ximinez: Now, Lord Commissar -- you have one last chance. Confess the heinous sin of heresy, reject the works of the ungodly -- *two* last chances. And you shall be free -- *three* last chances. You have three last chances, the nature of which I have divulged in my previous utterance.
Yarrick: I don't know what you're talking about.
Ximinez: Right! If that's the way you want it -- Inquisitor! Poke him with the soft cushions!
[Biggles carries out this rather pathetic torture]
Ximinez: Confess! Confess! Confess!
Biggles: It doesn't seem to be hurting him, lord.
Ximinez: Have you got all the stuffing up one end?
Biggles: Yes, lord.
Ximinez [angrily hurling away the cushions]: Hm! He is made of harder stuff! Inquisitor Fang! Fetch...THE COMFY CHAIR!
[JARRING CHORD]
[Zoom into Fang's horrified face]
Fang [terrified]: The...Comfy Chair?
[Biggles pushes in a comfy chair -- a really plush one]
Ximinez: So you think you are strong because you can survive the soft cushions. Well, we shall see. Biggles! Put him in the Comfy Chair!
[They roughly push him into the Comfy Chair]
Ximinez [with a cruel leer]: Now -- you will stay in the Comfy Chair until lunch time, with only a cup of coffee at eleven. [aside, to Biggles] Is that really all it is?
Biggles: Yes, lord.
Ximinez: I see. I suppose we make it worse by shouting a lot, do we? Confess, Commissar. Confess! Confess! Confess! Confess
Biggles: I confess!
Ximinez: Not you!
Spoiler:
Marneus: Well Gorius, I'm going to Macragge with you. You know Roboute Guiliman, the Ultramarine's primarch, gave me a job as Chapter Master for as long as you're in the army.
Gorius: Look Marneus, if you're the Chapter Master, you must know all the Astartes.
Marneus: I certainly do.
Gorius: Well you know I've never met the guys. So you'll have to tell me their names, and then I'll know who's fighting with us.
Marneus: Oh, I'll tell you their names, but you know it seems to me they give these Space Marines now-a-days very peculiar names.
Gorius: You mean funny names?
Marneus: Strange names, pet names...like Dizzy Dean...
Gorius: His brother Daffy.
Marneus: Daffy Dean...
Gorius: And their French cousin.
Marneus: French?
Gorius: Goofè.
Marneus: Goofè Dean. Well, let's see, we have in command, Who's the Master of the Forge, What's the Chaplain, I Don't Know is the Epistolary...
Gorius: That's what I want to find out.
Marneus: I say Who's the Master of the Forge, What's the Chaplain, I Don't Know's the Epistolary.
Gorius: Are you the Chapter Master?
Marneus: Yes.
Gorius: You gonna be the Lord of Macragge too?
Marneus: Yes.
Gorius: And you don't know the fellows' names?
Marneus: Well I should.
Gorius: Well then who's the Master of the Forge?
Marneus: Yes.
Gorius: I mean the fellow's name.
Marneus: Who.
Gorius: The Master of the Forge.
Marneus: Who.
Gorius: The guy who leads the Techmarines.
Marneus: Who.
Gorius: The guy who...
Marneus: Who is the Master of the Forge!
Gorius: I'm asking YOU who's the Master of the Forge.
Marneus: That's the man's name.
Gorius: That's who's name?
Marneus: Yes.
Gorius: Well go ahead and tell me.
Marneus: That's it.
Gorius: That's who?
Marneus: Yes.
PAUSE
Gorius: Look, you gotta Master of the Forge?
Marneus: Certainly.
Gorius: Who's the Master of the Forge?
Marneus: That's right.
Gorius: When you pay off the Master of the Forge every month, who gets the money?
Marneus: Every dollar of it.
Gorius: All I'm trying to find out is the name of the chief weaponsmith.
Marneus: Who.
Gorius: The guy that gets...
Marneus: That's it.
Gorius: Who gets the money...
Marneus: He does, every dollar. Sometimes his servitor comes down and collects it.
Gorius: Who's servitor?
Marneus: Yes.
PAUSE
Marneus: What's wrong with that?
Gorius: Look, all I wanna know is when you sign up the Master of the Forge, how does he sign his name?
Marneus: Who.
Gorius: The guy.
Marneus: Who.
Gorius: How does he sign...
Marneus: That's how he signs it.
Gorius: Who?
Marneus: Yes.
PAUSE
Gorius: All I'm trying to find out is what's the name of the chief weaponsmith.
Marneus: No. What is the Chaplain.
Gorius: I'm not asking you who's the Chaplain.
Marneus: Who's the Master of the Forge.
Gorius: One commander at a time!
Marneus: Well, don't change the staff around.
Gorius: I'm not changing nobody!
Marneus: Take it easy, buddy.
Gorius: I'm only asking you, who's the chief weaponsmith?
Marneus: That's right.
Gorius: Ok.
Marneus: All right.
PAUSE
Gorius: What's the name of the chief weaponsmith?
Marneus: No. What is a Chaplain.
Gorius: I'm not asking you who's a Chaplain.
Marneus: Who's the Master of the Forge.
Gorius: I don't know.
Marneus: He's the Epistolary, we're not talking about him.
Gorius: Now how did I get in the Librarium?
Marneus: Why you mentioned his name.
Gorius: If I mentioned the Epistolary's name, who did I say is the Epistolary?
Marneus: No. Who's the Master of the Forge.
Gorius: What's the Master of the Forge?
Marneus: What's the Chaplain.
Gorius: I don't know.
Marneus: He's the Epistolary.
Gorius: There I go, back to the Librarium again!
PAUSE
Gorius: Would you just stay in the Librarium and don't leave it.
Marneus: All right, what do you want to know?
Gorius: Now who's the Epistolary?
Marneus: Why do you insist on putting Who in the Librarium?
Gorius: What am I putting in the Librarium.
Marneus: No. What is a Chaplain.
Gorius: You don't want who in the Chaplaincy?
Marneus: Who is the Master of the Forge.
Gorius: I don't know.
Marneus & Gorius Together: Epistolary!
PAUSE
Gorius: Look, you gotta Captain?
Marneus: Sure.
Gorius: The Captain's name?
Marneus: Why.
Gorius: I just thought I'd ask you.
Marneus: Well, I just thought I'd tell ya.
Gorius: Then tell me who's the Captain.
Marneus: Who's the Master of the Forge.
Gorius: I'm not... stay out of the workshop! I want to know what's the Captain's name?
Marneus: No, What is the Chaplain.
Gorius: I'm not asking you who's the Chaplain.
Marneus: Who's the Master of the Forge!
Gorius: I don't know.
Marneus & Gorius Together: Epistolary!
PAUSE
Gorius: The Captain's name?
Marneus: Why.
Gorius: Because!
Marneus: Oh, he's the Chapter Champion.
PAUSE
Gorius: Look, You gotta Veteran Sergeant in this army?
Marneus: Sure.
Gorius: The Veteran Sergeant's name?
Marneus: Tomorrow.
Gorius: You don't want to tell me today?
Marneus: I'm telling you now.
Gorius: Then go ahead.
Marneus: Tomorrow!
Gorius: What time?
Marneus: What time what?
Gorius: What time tomorrow are you gonna tell me who's the Veteran Sergeant?
Marneus: Now listen. Who is not a Sergeant.
Gorius: I'll break your arm, you say who's the Master of the Forge! I want to know what's the Veteran Sergeant's name?
Marneus: What's the Chaplain.
Gorius: I don't know.
Marneus & Gorius Together: Epistolary!
PAUSE
Gorius: Gotta Apothecary?
Marneus: Certainly.
Gorius: The Apothecary's name?
Marneus: Today.
Gorius: Today, and tomorrow's a Sergeant.
Marneus: Now you've got it.
Gorius: All we got is a couple of days in the army.
PAUSE
Gorius: You know I'm an Apothecary too.
Marneus: So they tell me.
Gorius: Let's say we land on a planet to confront a Greater Unclean One. We can't wait for tomorrow to attack so the Master of the Forge starts holding it back for us. I see he is getting pretty banged up so being a good soldier I whip out my Narthecium to do some field medicine. And I heal who?
Marneus: Now that's the first thing you've said right.
Gorius: I don't even know what I'm talking about!
PAUSE
Marneus: That's all you have to do.
Gorius: Is to heal the Master of the Forge.
Marneus: Yes!
Gorius: Now who's healed?
Marneus: Naturally.
PAUSE
Gorius: Look, if I use my Narthecium on the Master of the Forge, somebody's gotta get be healed. Now who is healed?
Marneus: Naturally.
Gorius: Who?
Marneus: Naturally.
Gorius: Naturally?
Marneus: Naturally.
Gorius: So I pull out my Narthcium and I use it on Naturally.
Marneus: No you don't, you use it on Who.
Gorius: Naturally.
Marneus: That's different.
Gorius: That's what I said.
Marneus: You're not saying it...
Gorius: I use my skills to heal Naturally.
Marneus: You heal Who.
Gorius: Naturally.
Marneus: That's it.
Gorius: That's what I said!
Marneus: You ask me.
Gorius: I use my Narthecium on who?
Marneus: Naturally.
Gorius: Now you ask me.
Marneus: You use your Narthecium on Who?
Gorius: Naturally.
Marneus: That's it.
Gorius: Same as you! Same as YOU! I use my Narthecium on who. Whoever it is drops back and the Great Unclean One runs towards the Chaplain. Who takes his Power Axe and tosses it to What. What passes it to I Don't Know. I Don't Know lobs it over to Tomorrow, Tomorrow kills the Great Unclean One. A Bloodthirster gets up and runs at Because. Why? I don't know! He's the Epistolary and I don't give a darn!
Marneus: What?
Gorius: I said I don't give a darn!
Marneus: Oh, that's our Techmarine.
Spoiler:
Mr. Praline: 'Ello, I wish to register a complaint.
(The owner does not respond.)
Mr. Praline: 'Ello, Miss?
Owner: What do you mean "miss"?
Mr. Praline: (pause)I'm sorry, I have a cold. I wish to make a complaint!
Owner: We're closin' for lunch.
Mr. Praline: Never mind that, my lad. I wish to complain about this emperor what I purchased not half an hour ago from this very boutique.
Owner: Oh yes, the, uh, the Norwegian Blue...What's,uh...What's wrong with it?
Mr. Praline: I'll tell you what's wrong with it, my lad. 'E's dead, that's what's wrong with it!
Owner: No, no, 'e's uh,...he's resting.
Mr. Praline: Look, matey, I know a dead empeor when I see one, and I'm looking at one right now.
Owner: No no he's not dead, he's, he's restin'! Remarkable man, the Norwegian Blue, idn'it, ay? Beautiful plumage!
Mr. Praline: The plumage don't enter into it. It's stone dead.
Owner: Nononono, no, no! 'E's resting!
Mr. Praline: All right then, if he's restin', I'll wake him up! (shouting at the cage) 'Ello, Mister Corpse Emperor! I've got a lovely fresh Psyker for you if you show...
(owner hits the throne)
Owner: There, he moved!
Mr. Praline: No, he didn't, that was you hitting the throne!
Owner: I never!!
Mr. Praline: Yes, you did!
Owner: I never, never did anything...
Mr. Praline: (yelling and hitting the cage repeatedly) 'ELLO EMPY!!!!! Testing! Testing! Testing! Testing! This is your nine o'clock alarm call!
(Takes the emperor off of the throne and thumps its head on the counter. Throws it up in the air and watches it plummet to the floor.)
Mr. Praline: Now that's what I call a dead emperor.
Owner: No, no.....No, 'e's stunned!
Mr. Praline: STUNNED?!?
Owner: Yeah! You stunned him, just as he was wakin' up! Norwegian Blues stun easily, major.
Mr. Praline: Um...now look...now look, mate, I've definitely 'ad enough of this. That emperor is definitely deceased, and when I purchased it not 'alf an hour ago, you assured me that its total lack of movement was due to it bein' tired and shagged out following a prolonged rallying speech.
Owner: Well, he's...he's, ah...probably pining for the fjords.
Mr. Praline: PININ' for the FJORDS?!?!?!? What kind of talk is that?, look, why did he fall flat on his back the moment I got 'im home?
Owner: The Norwegian Blue prefers keepin' on it's back! Remarkable man, id'nit, squire? Lovely plumage!
Mr. Praline: Look, I took the liberty of examining that emperor when I got it home, and I discovered the only reason that it had been sitting on its throne in the first place was that it had been NAILED there.
(pause)
Owner: Well, o'course it was nailed there! If I hadn't nailed that man down, it would have nuzzled up to those Custodes, ripped 'em apart with its teeth, and VOOM! Feeweeweewee!
Mr. Praline: "VOOM"?!? Mate, this man wouldn't "voom" if you put four million volts through it! 'E's bleedin' demised!
Owner: No no! 'E's pining!
Mr. Praline: 'E's not pinin'! 'E's passed on! This emperor is no more! He has ceased to be! 'E's expired and gone to meet 'is maker! 'E's a stiff! Bereft of life, 'e rests in peace! If you hadn't nailed 'im to the throne 'e'd be pushing up the daisies! 'Is metabolic processes are now 'istory! 'E's off the twig! 'E's kicked the bucket, 'e's shuffled off 'is mortal coil, run down the curtain and joined the bleedin' choir invisible!! THIS IS AN EX-EMPEROR!!
(pause)
Owner: Well, I'd better replace it, then. (he takes a quick peek behind the counter) Sorry squire, I've had a look 'round the back of the shop, and uh, we're right out of emperors.
Mr. Praline: I see. I see, I get the picture.
Owner: (pause) I got a warboss.
(pause)
Mr. Praline: Pray, does it talk?
Owner: Nnnnot really.
Mr. Praline: WELL IT'S HARDLY A BLOODY REPLACEMENT, IS IT?!!???!!?
Owner: N-no, I guess not. (gets ashamed, looks at his feet)
Mr. Praline: Well.
(pause)
Owner: (quietly) D'you.... d'you want to come back to my place?
Mr. Praline: (looks around) Yeah, all right, sure.
Alternate ending:
Mr. Praline: (sweet as sugar) Pray, does it talk?
Owner: Nnnnot really.
Mr. Praline: WELL IT'S HARDLY A BLOODY REPLACEMENT, IS IT?!!???!!?
Owner: Look, if you go to my brother's shop on Cadia, he'll replace the emperor for you.
Mr. Praline: Cadia, eh? Very well.
(The customer leaves.)
(The customer enters the same shop. The owner is putting on a false moustache.)
Mr. Praline: This is Cadia, is it?
Owner: (with a fake mustache) No, it's Krieg.
Mr. Praline: (looking at the camera) That's inter-galactic transport for you.
(Mr. Praine goes to the trsnaport station. He addresses a man standing behind a desk marked "Complaints".)
Mr. Praline: I wish to complain, Intergalactic Transportation Person.
Attendant: I DON'T HAVE TO DO THIS JOB, YOU KNOW!!!
Mr. Praline: I beg your pardon...?
Attendant: I'm a qualified Tech-Priest! I only do this job because I like being my own boss!
Mr. Praline: Excuse me, this is irrelevant, isn't it?
Attendant: Yeah, well it's not easy to pad these python files out to 150 lines, you know.
Mr. Praline: Well, I wish to complain. I got on the Cadian flight and found myself deposited here in Krieg.
Attendant: No, this is Cadia.
Mr. Praline: (to the camera) The shop man's brother was lying!!
Attendant: Can't blame Intergalactic Transports for that.
Mr. Praline: In that case, I shall return to the shop!
(He does.)
Mr. Praline: I understand this IS Cadia.
Owner: (still with the fake mustache) Yes?
Mr. Praline: You told me it was Krieg!
Owner: ...It was a pun.
Mr. Praline: (pause) A PUN?!?
Owner: No, no...not a pun...What's that thing that spells the same backwards as forwards?
Mr. Praline: (Long pause) A palindrome...?
Owner: Yeah, that's it!
Mr. Praline: It's not a palindrome! The palindrome of "Cadia" would be "Aidac"!! It don't work!!
Owner: Well, what do you want?
Mr. Praline: I'm not prepared to pursue my line of inquiry any longer as I think this is getting too silly!
Commissar: Quite agree, quite agree, too silly, far too silly... (takes customer by the arm) Come on, you, you've got to go do another sketch now! Come on... (he walks off stage left, followed by the director and cameramen, leaving the owner alone on the set)
Owner: (to the audience) Well! I never wanted to do this in the first place. I wanted to be... a lumberjack!
(he takes off his white lab coat to reveal a checkered shirt and suspenders under it)
Floating down the mighty rivers of British Columbia! With my best girl by my side!...
Spoiler:
COMMISSAR ARTHUR: Old woman!
DENNIS: Man!
ARTHUR: Man, sorry. What sergeant leads that squad over there?
DENNIS: I'm thirty seven.
ARTHUR: What?
DENNIS: I'm thirty seven -- I'm not old!
ARTHUR: Well, I can't just call you "Man".
DENNIS: Well, you could say "Dennis".
ARTHUR: Well, I didn't know you were called "Dennis".
DENNIS: Well, you didn't bother to find out, did you?
ARTHUR: I did say sorry about the "old woman", but from the behind you looked--
DENNIS: What I object to is you automatically treat me like an inferior!
ARTHUR: Well, I AM commissariat...
DENNIS: Oh commissar, eh, very nice. And how'd you get that, eh? By exploiting the soldiers -- by hanging on to outdated imperialist dogma which perpetuates the economic and social differences in our society! If there's ever going to be any progress--
WOMAN : Dennis, there's some lovely heretics down here. Oh how d'you do?
ARTHUR: How do you do, good lady. I am Arthur, Commissar of the Astra Militarum. Who's squad is that?
WOMAN : Commissar of the who?
ARTHUR: The Astra Militarum.
WOMAN : Who are the Astra Militarum?
ARTHUR: Well, we all are. We're all Astra Militarum and I am your commissar.
WOMAN : I didn't know we had a commissar. I thought we were an autonomous collective.
DENNIS: You're fooling yourself. We're living in a dictatorship. A self perpetuating autocracy in which the working classes--
WOMAN : Oh there you go, bringing class into it again.
DENNIS: That's what it's all about, if only people would listen.
ARTHUR: Please, please good people. I am in haste. Who leads that squad?
WOMAN : No one leads them.
ARTHUR: Then who is your sergeant?
WOMAN : We don't have a sergeant.
ARTHUR: What?
DENNIS: I told you. We're an anarcho-syndicalist commune. We take it in turns to act as a sort of executive officer for the week.
ARTHUR: Yes.
DENNIS: But all the decision of that officer have to be ratified at a special biweekly meeting.
ARTHUR: Yes, I see.
DENNIS: By a simple majority in the case of purely internal affairs,--
ARTHUR: Be quiet!
DENNIS --but by a two-thirds majority in the case of more--
ARTHUR: Be quiet! I order you to be quiet!
WOMAN : Order, eh -- who does he think he is?
ARTHUR: I am your commissar!
WOMAN : Well, I didn't vote for you.
ARTHUR: You don't vote for commissars.
WOMAN : Well, how did you become commissar then?
ARTHUR: The Emperor of Mankind, [angels start singing] his arm clad in the purest shimmering gold, held aloft The Emperor's Benediction from the base of the throne signifying by Divine Providence that I, Arthur, was to carry The Emperor's Benediction. [singing stops] That is why I am your commissar!
DENNIS: Listen, strange men lying in a state of decay distributing guns is no basis for a system of military. Supreme executive power derives from a mandate from the masses, not from some farcical throne room ceremony.
ARTHUR: Be quiet!
DENNIS: Well you can't expect to wield supreme executive power just because some golden corpse threw a gun at you!
ARTHUR: Shut up!
DENNIS: I mean, if I went around saying, "I was a commander just because some gilded bink had lobbed a laspistol at me" they'd put me away!
ARTHUR: Shut up! Will you shut up!
DENNIS: Ah, now we see the violence inherent in the system.
ARTHUR: Shut up!
DENNIS: Oh! Come and see the violence inherent in the system! HELP! HELP! I'm being repressed!
ARTHUR: Bloody conscript!
DENNIS: Oh, what a give away. Did you hear that, did you here that, eh? That's what I'm on about -- did you see him repressing me, you saw it didn't you?
The scene ends as Commissar Arther shoots Dennis in disgust.
Greebo had spent an irritating two minutes in that box. Technically, a cat locked in a box may be alive or it may be dead. You never know until you look. In fact, the mere act of opening the box will determine the state of the cat, although in this case there were three determinate states the cat could be in: these being Alive, Dead, and Bloody Furious.
Orks always ride in single file to hide their strength and numbers.
Gozer the Gozerian, Gozer the Destructor, Volguus Zildrohar, Gozer the Traveler, and Lord of the Sebouillia
"Through the darkness of future past, the magician longs to see.
One chants out between two worlds: Fire, walk with me." - Twin Peaks
"You listen to me. While I will admit to a certain cynicism, the fact is that I am a naysayer and hatchetman in the fight against violence. I pride myself in taking a punch and I'll gladly take another because I choose to live my life in the company of Gandhi and King. My concerns are global. I reject absolutely revenge, aggression, and retaliation. The foundation of such a method... is love. I love you Sheriff Truman." - Twin Peaks
Regarding our most recent mission to stamp out subversive cults pledged to the Unholy Powers I believe I have made an Important observation that could aid us in identifying them
>I am intrigued. Please share this observation that I may identify the servants of the Dark Gods with greater efficiency
I believe I have learned the favored hymn of the Slaaneshii cultists
The people in the past who convinced themselves to do unspeakable things were no less human than you or I. They made their decisions; the only thing that prevents history from repeating itself is making different ones.
-- Adam Serwer
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