4/30/2023 0 Comments Lumo fatherly![]() Then perhaps a kilo of blood-red filet mignon avec pommes frites, washed down with a rather good magnum of Brouilly '99. 'Well,' said Jumbo, 'I was thinking of pâte de foie gras - naturally made by Mrs Jumbo using our own force-fed geese, with a bottle of Château d'Yquem '78 to start with. And your timing is excellent, as I've just finished my apéritif and was on the verge of kicking Mrs SNOGGO, my new 17-year old Thai mail order wife, out of her hammock to make my supper. 'Jumbo,' I replied, 'that's uncommon civil of you, old man. I have come to offer you the hand of friendship and to invite you to my humble home for a midnight snack to celebrate your stirring victory.' You deserved to win, you are the finest scrabbler in all of Greenwich. 'SNOGGO,' he said, 'I've come to offer my apologies for my inappropriate behaviour earlier. Who could that possibly be at nearly midnight? Later that evening, as I sat in the splendid Georgian surroundings of Snoggo Manor, cradling the gold cup and admiring the row of 25 Championship certificates on the walls of my elegant dining room, finishing off my second bottle of Bollinger Grand Cru '89 and stuffing my 18th oyster down my happy throat, I heard a knock on the door. Mrs Snotte-Wragge, who whispered in my ear 'Fancy a quick **** later, back at the mayoral parlour, SNOGGO dear?' For the fifth year in a row I told her to go and get stuffed as I didn't go for ugly old bats with arses on them like a double-decker bus. He missed seeing me, the great SNOGGO, receive the shining gold cup from the gnarled hands of the Lady Mayoress, the Hon. ![]() In so doing he flouted the gentlemen's convention of always staying to take part in the closing ceremony. '******* you for all ******* eternity,' he bellowed unsportingly as he waddled out of the cheering hall. Jumbo's scream of uncontrollable, incandescent rage could have been heard as far away as the Vanbrugh Hill Municipal Waste Disposal Centre. And, by centuries old tradition, 25 consecutive victories meant the priceless cup was now mine to keep for ever. Jumbo roared in frustration as he saw his hopes of taking the coveted 24ct gold "Queen Anne" cup away from me, SNOGGO, dashed to the ground yet again. Not only that: but 25 consecutive defeats in the final for Jumbo. Jumbo was caught with 14 in his hand (remember: he still had the J) and thus I, the great SNOGGO, became Greenwich Scrabble Champion for the 25th year running. 'The Z's on a double letter score and it's all on a triple word score, so that's 90, plus 50 for playing all my tiles, 140 in total and the end of the game,' I declared in triumph. 'Watch this and weep, Jumbo,' I said, playing out all seven of my tiles onto the board to create a stunning word: UNZIPPED. I sneered derisively and laughed long and loud, making Jumbo froth at his ugly fat nostrils with anger. 'That's twenty-four points you've cost me with your nit-picking, you *******,' he said through gritted yellow teeth, his flabby body shaking with rage. His replacement word was a sodding disaster. He sniffed loudly, slammed the dictionary shut and removed the tiles from the board. ![]() ![]() Jumbo grudgingly picked up the Shorter Oxford and looked up "Jew". (as told in the first person by SNOGGO to his amanuensis, Edna) This is a prose tale about the great superhero, SNOGGO ![]()
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