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MoleMeet 1.0: Report

From: Chris Horry <look@the.sig.invalid> 
Subject: [F] Mole Meet 1.0 - Quotes File
Message-ID: <>
Date: 9 May 1999 00:02:25 +0100

Herein is contained the quotes file from Mole Meet 1.0, a meet report will 
follow shortly :) 

Megamole (on noticing pol and Chris H's communicators: "Ahh!  Geek

Megamole: "Are you a Peeled Knot (sic)?"
Afphantom: "Good god, no!  Bunch of frilly shirted rubber swordies..."

Charissa[1]: "We need a Frequently Unasked Questions doc, a FUQ"

Afphantom: "Wouldn't a pen be quicker?"

Afphantom: "Peter [Ellis] has agreed to be one of my goolies"

Elaine to Afphantom: "You're my afpiance!  Meet my husband..."

Megamole: "Looks like the pig's working[2]"

Elaine: "That's the one you have to suck"

Ponder: "I want to lay my hands ona Dragon emulator"
Megamole: "I'll be Dragon would love that..."

Megamole: "Masturbation is the pinnacle of human experience"

Afphantom is singing the Milky Way song: "This passed me my physics GCSE"

Dmark speaking about the masochism tango: "I don't remember much of that"
*shifty look*

Chris: "I usually say something stupid that gets quoted...DAMN! DAMN!!!"
(as Paul snatched the quote file off him)

Afphantom: "I'm more a fan of afp than of Pterry nowadays"
Everyone: "BOO!  hiss!!"

Mike Kew1 enters: "That's Afphantom?  YOU BASTARD!!" *advances menacingly...*

Megamole: "Can I put this somewhere?"
Afphantom: "Wherever you like, so long as it's hygenic"

Mr Stibbons: "It's amazing what you can do with a tub of vaseline and a

Megamole: "That's not a Mooman Troll[3]!  That's my Piggy!"

Gid and Suzi arrive...
Megamole: "Gid and Suzi!  *Now* it's an AFP Meet!"

Afphantom: "I'm the only person I know who knows all the words too Teenage
Mutant Ninja Turtles" (and proceeds to sing it)

Megamole: "Instant Shag!  Just add water!"

Allen: "If you really want to annoy someone, invent quotes for them..."

Elaine: "I didn't mean a great big one but I'm sure I could manage it"

I left early so there may well be more quotes posted soon.  Many thanks
to Megamole for organising a very enjoyable meet - here's to Mole Meet


[1] I think I spelt this wrong...apologies :)

[2] In time honoured tradition a cuddly toy was displayed in a prominent
place, in this case a pig.

[3] Whatever the hell a Mooman Troll is...

afpiance to Grymma, An~ejo and Jenny Holmberg, afpboyfriend to Tamara *hugs* 

--      *       * ICQ   - 18279005 
Nildram Technical Support * UK Center for Wibbling   * IRC   - Zerbey   * * Quake - [gst]nazgul 
finger for PGP sig, AFPCode and other stuff... 

From: "AfPhantom" <>
Subject: [F] The Molemeet Report... from a first-timer's perspective
Date: Mon, 10 May 1999 16:15:15 +0100
Message-ID: <7h6v6a$a6u$>

Having never written a meet report before, I'm not entirely
sure how the format goes, but I shall give of my best...
Still, as I wasn't actually asked to do the report until I was
too drunk to say 'no', forgive me if my recollection of events
is a little hazy - I wasn't paying as much attention as I should
have been  :-)  I've also decided to spare you from my filks of
the evening - for which you should be truly thankful - on the
grounds that dMark has done it much better already...


The Setting

The Cottage Pub was described by the good Mole as being
"the least bad" in the area, but seemed OK to this ghost.
Apart from the Gents toilets, that is.  You don't want to know
about it.

Snugly outfitted in the guise of a library(!), the cosy nook which
we occupied at the end of the pub was relatively free from the
juke-box[1] music being played, but displayed a regrettable lack
of orang-utans.  If and when there is (as I hope) a Molemeet 2.0,
I shall make good this deficiency  :-)

The beer was good.  This is why I had so much of it.  This is also
why you can expect to read some quite horrendous typographical
errors in this post (he said, having had to correct this sentence
three times so far).


The Beginning

When I arrived, Mr. Horry, pol, dMark, and of course the great
Mole himself were already present.  The first words I ever heard
spoken at an afpmeet were those of the MegaMole as I was
standing there looking bemusedly across the pub at an assortment
of afp-type objects on their table.   I was just wondering if I was
staring at the right group, or if maybe this pub was notorious for its
gangs of soft-toy-toting chocolate abusers, when I was rescued with
the words;

"Yes, this _is_ an afpmeet!"

Mr. Mole - who is, let me get this out of the way now, a most pleasant
and congenial host and all-around good bloke - then proceeded to
make the introductions, which duty he performed admirably for the
remainder of the evening, and with great aplomb.

He also proceeded immediately to buy me a beer, which act of
generosity endeared him to me forever and assured that I felt right at

Because drinking beer is what I do at home, too.  :-)


The End of The Beginning and Most of The Middle Bit

The first - and most vital - topic of conversation was the question
introduced by the Mole on the lines of "who is going to do the
quotefile?", causing me to reach for a pencil - and pol (first words
to me "hello there") and Zerbey ("Hi") to reach for scary-looking
objects with lots of buttons - subsequently generating the first quote
of the evening.

That matter settled, conversation turned inevitably to the Horry skill
at LARTing and tales of misery (inflicted by him, mostly) in the
computing world.  Just before things descended into total geekhood
(my status as a BOFH adding to the already considerable geekly
presence) we were rescued by the arrival of Charrisa ("Hello") and
Piers ("Did you know Tara?" !), and we started pretending to be
real people with lives and everything <g>.

Chit-chat then drifted this way and that, largely centred around the
ever-popular topic of Music - deserving of a capital muh due to the
presence of the absurdly talented MegaMole and Charrisa.  The Mole
and I may also have perpetrated South Park quotes at this point as
some people claim, but "Godd*mit you sons of bitches!" we both
hotly deny the charge  :-)

I was chuffed absolutely to bits and pieces by the arrival of my much-
beloved Elaine [2] ("I'm your afpfiance - meet my husband!"),
Jonathon (sp.?) and Ponder.  This last worthy, I respectfully submit,
should instead take for himself the sobriquet of Tomjom on the grounds
that he has a positively awesome ability to recite entire Blackadder
scripts from end to end.  I warn you all - this man is dangerous.

A name-change would also resolve the difficulty over the proper
division of 'Ponder & co' between those who afp under that name.
A certain amount of confusion seemed to be prevailing on that score,
with Ponder's dad mournfully concluding at one stage "I suppose I
must be the '&'."

The arrival of this cheerful family of mixed nuts led indirectly to the
conversation longbow-and-archery-geeking for a time, thereby
wending its manic way around to MegaMole remarking upon those
people he knows who are best able to commit violent mayhem with
their bare hands and/or various charming cultural weapons.  Triple
Orcthrust with Extra Flip, anyone?  I'll have mine with ice and lemon
but if little paper umbrellas are involved, There Will Be Trouble :-)

Through an ever-growing alcoholic haze, the arrival of the remainder
of the troupe swelled our numbers to an extent whereby many
chair-search-and-retrieval missions were undertaken.   There was no
chance of anyone else getting the idea that they could also inhabit our
end of the pub, if only because everything that could be sat on was
being sat on, often with some vigour.

I was mildly surprised to learn that Gidnsuzi (a.k.a Suzingid) are, in
fact, two (very nice) people, and not some form of composite entity
as I had previously supposed <g>.

Suzi ("So you're Phantom?  Trina says 'hi' and Tigger says 'bounce'.")
earned herself a place alongside Elaine and the Mole in my
already-crowded heart by passing around chocolate-covered fudge
as her first action.

Gid (me to him; "You'd never get a whippet in there!") caused them all to
budge up a bit and make room when he did a very good impression of
taking a good-natured interest in the songbook I thrust at him almost
immediately upon his arrival  :-)  Sorry, Gid.

My personal curiosity was further sated when the Multi-talented
Multi-national Archangel Miq ("That's Phantom?  You BASTARD!") [3]
arrived, with his customary look of good-natured stup^W^intelligence <g>,
allowing me finally to match a face to the much-maligned (by me)
character.  Despite his somewhat unorthodox greeting-style, he seemed
to me to be a thoroughly nice chap - although this could I suppose have
been a protective camouflage to fit in with all the other thoroughly nice
chaps and chappesses foregathered at the Molemeet  :-)

An ongoing feaure of the evening was the regrettable tendency of certain
afp'ers[4] to burst into song; loudly, poorly and at inappropriate
junctures - sometimes causing others to join in against their will and
prompting the MegaMole to remark "I was hoping to be allowed back in
this pub afterwards, if you don't mind," although he was smiling as he
said it.

Sort of.  :-)

Absolutely monstrous quantities of chocolate were consumed, due in large
part to the provision by some worthy of a large bar of Cadbury's finest
(no sniggering please) and a chocolate egg that looked like an extra
from Willy Wonka Does Jurassic Park.  Had a chocolate brontosaurus
hatched from within, I would not have been surprised.

That last bit was a lie, actually.


The End of The Middle and the Beginning of The End

As the evening progressed, Mr. Horry - a credit to his profession -
decided that he had had quite enough for one evening and left early. :-)
Events continued in much the same vein without his presence,
although it is entirely possible that the average quality of the anecdotes
decreased ever-so-slightly.  Or was that increased?  I can never
remember...  <g, d, rlh>

Drawing this blurry picture of the proceedings to a rapid close, I shall
gloss over the hanging around, the defiant clutching of pint glasses and
the singing of the Wimoweh song as a prophylactic 'gainst getting
thrown out of the pub at closing time.

Those who were leaving, left.

In fact we all left, but as four of us left in the same direction
- walking whilst under the influence of large quantities of alcohol is not
an exact science) it could be said that the meet continued.  The Mole,
Piers, Charrissa and I staggered with alacrity from the pub, mumbling
good-byes to all and sundry, some of whom were even there.


Really The End

Something else I'm not going to mention is the fact that even though the
Mole - with his usual sense of taste and timing - suggested that we go
for a pizza, we nonetheless ended up going for the inevitable kebab.
I'm not going to name the person responsible for this heinous
acknowledgement of intoxicant tradition, but she knows who she is.

Damn, that narrowed it down a bit, didn't it? <g>

Having consumed our delightful repast (pah!) we threaded through the
lonely highways and byways of Welwyn Garden City.  Well, we didn't,
but it does sound considerably better than "We got a taxi".

Regardless of how we got there, we did eventually arrive at the house
of the Mole's mother - which, incidentally, is so beautiful she could charge
admission.   The Mole, Piers and Charrisa - so rumour has it - continued to
consume alcoholic beverages and talk late into the night like the heroic
stalwarts they truly are.  I - having been tired before I even got to the
meet - went straight to bed like the panty-wasting girly wuss _I_ truly am

As I was not materially present for that small gathering, my tale is told...

Extreme thanks to the MegaMole for organising and so graciously hosting
a very enjoyable meet, and undying gratitude to the MoleMother for
allowing three disreputable mendicant Pratchett fans a very lovely safe
haven for the night.



Bright were the skies and high our hearts when we awoke the following
morning, and cheefully we made our way back to our respective abodes.

Well, it would be nice to think so, wouldn't it?

In fact, MegaMole once more proved himself a thoroughly worthy gent
by driving the Transport-less Trio to the train station back in town, to an
accompanying chorus of fragile-sounding moans.

The main reason I'm telling you this, other than to illustrate once more
the Mole's consummate skill as host, is what happened to me afterwards.

It's not often I get a true story worth telling  :-)


Arriving at King's Cross tube station from Welwyn Garden City at about
half-past ten on a Sunday morning, there were many notices plastered
about the place informing customers of current disruptions to services.
Forgive any mis-quoting of tube services, as I am rarely in London and
can never get the tube system straight, but the rest of what transpired is,
I swear, nearly verbatim.  I really shouldn't laugh as it was probably not
the fault of those unfortunates left behind...  but more of that in a
moment.  This incident utterly restored my faith in the inhuman nature of
all those whose job it is to read things out over any sort of public
address system...

Whilst waiting for the train, the following announcement came over the

"Would all customers please note that the Hammersmith and City line
and Metropolitan line services from King's Cross are not in operation
today.  All customers please board the Circle Line train now arriving.
Customers for the Hammersmith and City line should change at
Edgeware Road, and customers for the Metropolitan line please
change at Baker Street."

All this was delivered in the thoroughly weary and dispirited tones of
a man who had said this forty times so far today and wasn't leaving
work for another four hours.  Just _how_ weary and dispirited had
yet to become apparent, however...

About ten seconds later, the announcement was repeated as the
Circle line train pulled up to the platform.  Perhaps half of the people
waiting boarded.  The tannoy sprang into life once more, with
a definite hint of exasperation in its booming tones;

"Customers should note that the Circle line service is the _only_
service departing from Kings Cross station today.  Customers
wishing to use the Hammersmith and City line and Metropolitan
line services should board this train."

Perhaps half-a-dozen more people boarded, looking deeply
suspicious about the whole affair, but another couple of dozen
obstinately remained.  A guard began walking down the platform,
explaining things clearly and concisely, and managed to get a
few more to budge, but it was plain that further elaboration was

"Could all customers please note that the Circle line service IS
THE ONLY service leaving from King's Cross today."

Not good enough.  No-one budged.  Those of us inside the tube
train were by now starting to smirk...  Then it started getting
really good.

"I would like to apologise for the lack of clarity in the previous
annoucement.  The Circle line service is the only service leaving
this station today, and the train currently waiting at the platform
IS a Circle line train.  Therefore, COULD - ALL - CUSTOMERS
waiting on the platform PLEASE board this train if they wish to
depart this station by rail."

This seemed to do the trick for a moment, as a large contingent of
tourist-looking types all standing together on the platform surged
forward.  Obviously the voice of dissent was heard amongst them,
because they halted in their rush and started arguing amongst
themselves.  I _wish_ I had been close enough to hear what they
were saying - although their voices were heavily accented and I'm
pretty sure I don't speak whatever language they were using.

This could explain their next actions, although I seriously doubt that
_everyone_ on the platform spoke no English...  they were just in
that trance-like state induced by the London Underground.

A burly, mustachioed gent flapped his hands at the surrounding
gaggle of folk and they stepped back from the train.  This movement
was not lost on the unseen voice, who gave up totally...

"Could all customers waiting on the platform please note that the next
_through_ trains for the Metropolitan and Hammersmith and City
line services depart from this station at five o' clock tomorrow
morning.  Enjoy your journey."

The door alarms sounded, and the unseen voice delivered the clincher...
I swear this is what he said...

"Please stand back.  The train will now depart.

Without you.

Have a nice day."

Naturally enough, many people leaped forward as the doors started
to close, but too late, too late...

I don't know if this is just a dull story or a metaphor for human existence,
but it definitely marks the end - for me at least - of the events loosely
connected with the excellent and thoroughly enjoyable Molemeet.

*hugs to all*



Seraph of the Heavenly Host, joyfully enabilh'elated, happily afphianced
to the Magical Mad Dragon and the Elysian Elaine *hugs*, back in the
jug agane (ra skool!) at the Molehill, blissfully afpwedded to Trina and
shotgun-married to Peter Ellis <g>

[1]  Why are they called 'juke-boxes' I wonder?  Is it perhaps because
every time you hear one you want to punch it?

[2]  Dammit, I'll take you to Tuscany myself if I have to! :-)

[3]  It's not that I haven't done anything, or even that I don't know what
I've done - the question is, what was he referring to in particular? <g>
And despite reports, he did not advance menacingly towards this ghost,
but instead sat still menacingly which was, for some reason, even
scarier  :-)

[4]  Well, alright, me.  :-(

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