Nanny Slaughter at the Local Nandos: Difference between revisions
Nanny Slaughter at the Local Nandos (view source)
Revision as of 00:12, 7 September 2023
, 8 months agono edit summary
imported>SkeletonPasta (Created page with "== Nanny Slaughter at the Local Nandos == So me and some of the lads were out shopping for trainers at JD in some small, English town. I was like, to my friend Felix, " Mate ...") |
mNo edit summary |
||
| (7 intermediate revisions by 5 users not shown) | |||
Line 1:
So me and some of the lads were out shopping for trainers at JD in some small, English town. I was like, to my friend Felix, "
▲So me and some of the lads were out shopping for trainers at JD in some small, English town. I was like, to my friend Felix, " Mate I'm hungry, lets kick it for some grub, hope there is a KFC or a Nandos." The town as I recall was called Cuntington-on-Shit in the county of Bollockshire. It was a quaint, yet eerie town with little infrastructure or general community. My mate Tom, the Archbishop of Banterbury, was like, " Fam this town is well creepy, lets just bounce and get on the nearest Train to Kush-on-Tyne." The only problem with this was that the train from Cuntington-on-Shit to Kush-on-Tyne was down because of those pesky Network Rail peeps who can't run the lines for shit, so there was a replacement Bus service and there was no way I was getting on that.
We were scouting the town for a Nandos but there was none in site. Then out of a seemingly empty pub called 'Ye ol' Farage Entourage' came a dark and shadowy figure with a hyper-realistic pint of Old Speckled Hen and old fashioned jacket. Me and the lads were proper on edge at this point a Phil was willing to shank anyone with his flip-knife, given to him by Old Boy Billy who, if you don't know, is like the original lad.
The man said, "
He could tell that we were looking for a Nandos because of the JD shopping bags in our hands. "I know where you can find one, but, be warned, no one goes near there any more."
Line 17 ⟶ 15:
He gave us the directions and we followed them. The atmosphere of the town was foreboding, it was almost as if the town was toying with us, like a cat and mouse situation. There was nothing inviting about the Nandos we were walking towards, as we saw it in the distance; only slightly obscured by the fog coming off of the River Shit.
We walked in to find its patrons to be all those over 65 and female, in other words Nannies. Phil retorted, "
Tom's head came flying out, flame grilled, with a peri-peri season. Flocks of the old ladies swarmed the decapitated head and began to scrape the meat off of it, and then began eating the brains.
Line 32 ⟶ 30:
So the moral is, don't take a trip to Bollockshire as it is the Kingdom of the Great Necromancer and Evil-doer, I still search to this day for a Man that can slay him.
[[Category:Trollpasta]]
[[Category:Satire]]
[[Category:Hyper-realistic]]
[[Category:Pointless Violence]]
[[Category:BATTELS]]
[[Category:Demins and Debbils]]
[[Category:EVIL FOOD]]
[[Category:Pages with grammar that doesn't suck]]
{{Comments}}
| |||