thunderpig.net
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HomeGiglistThunderpig; the men, the myth, the trousers“Out and about...” On any given night the lads from Thunderpig can be found lambasting audiences in the Blackburn area with their eclectic montage of rampant rock, reggae, blues and swing with the occasional bit of poetry from the likes of Marriott Edgar and Stanley Holloway.“We are normal and we dig Bert Weedon...” Collectively the band has over a century of musical experience to draw from, each member of the band brings his own unique flavour to sonic experience that is Thunderpig...The Awakening“by Bob Calvert” I would rather the fire-storms of atmospheres than this cruel descent from a thousand years of dreams, into the starkness of the capsule. Where two of our crew still lay suspended cool in their tombs of sleep. Those nagging choirs of memory, the tubes and wires worming from their flesh to machinery I would have to cut.... Such midwifery is but one function of the leader here. Floating in a sac of fluid dark a clear century of space away from Earth. While one man stares from the trauma of his birth attending to the hypno-tapes assuring him that this is reality, however grim, our journey's end.... Landing itself was nothing, we touched upon a shelf of rock selected by the automind.... and left a galaxy of dreams behind....Rhinocratic Oaths“Percy Rawlinson...” After his second wife passed away, Percy Rawlinson seemed to spend more and more time with his alsation, Al. His friends told him "Percy - you'll wind up looking like a dog, ha ha". He was later arrested near a lamppost. At his trial, some months later, he surprised everyone by mistaking a policeman for a postman and tearing his trousers off with his bare teeth. In his defence, he told the court "It's hard to tell the difference when they take their hats off".“Mrs Betty Pench...” Mrs Betty Pench was playing the trombone when she heard a knock on the door. "I wonder who that is at eleven o'clock in the morning" she thought, but cautiously opened the door and instead of the turbanned ruffian she had expected, she found a very nice young man. "Mrs. Pench, you've won the car contest, would you like a triumph spitfire or 3000 in cash?" He smiled. Mrs. Pench took the money. "What will you do with it all? Not that it's any of my business," he giggled. "I think I'll become an alcoholic," said Betty.“Police Seargent Geoff Bull...” With a geranium behind each ear and his face painted with gay cabalistic symbols, six foot eight seventeen stone police seargent Geoff Bull looked jolly convincing as he sweated and grunted through a vigorous triscutine at the Fraga Gogo Viachella. His hot serge trousers flapped wildly over his enourmous plastic sandals as he jumped and jumped and gyrated towards a long-haired man. "Uh, excuse me, ma'am, I have reason to believe you can turn me on." He leered suggestively. As if by magic dozens of truncheons appeared and they mercilessly thra
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