Thought for the day... "Never argue with an idiot. They drag you down to their level and then beat you with experience".

And...on with the nonsense! Reviews are great, keep em' coming.

- Emma -

- "Combatish Scabbarding" -

The day proves to be sunny. This is obviously because everyone is HAPPY - a useful proverb for 'staringrapturously at Sky's perky butt and equally enticing breasts.'

But do not fear, dear readers, for the second we launch into something more sinister, a BATTLE for example, you can be assured that there will be a hailstorm of drastic proportions, a strategically timed tornado, a random earthquake and an electrical storm that would put Captain Planet to shame. All for the sake of PLOT ENHANCEMENT of course, and nothing to do with the fact that we're prepubescent 14 year olds who know as much about writing as we do about the current stock market.

Fadowshaxhas gone to the liberty of developing another personality. However, the company show their distaste for 'rearing storm giant', giving it an average rating of 2.4 with special considerations for PHYSICAL ENHANCEMENT and SNOT PROJECTION, placing it an astounding 3.7 points lower than 'magnificant, powerful dragon.' 264 L's and a zucchini-slice later, Sky has restored him to everyone's favourite pacified kitten.

We meet Bom Tombadil. He has huge yellow gumboots. Beyond this, nothing is known, so we refer to Aragorn's left arse-cheek in an attempt to sway the audiences' attention to irrelevant aspects such as DETAIL.

Having made a pathetic pass at Tolkien-esque scene-setting, we castrate Bom Tombadil and suspend his balls from a tree. Enough of him, for it is now necessary to plunge headlong into a FIGHT. This is exciting, readers, for we will now be able to use the word SCABBARD as if we are actuallyaware that it is not a sexually transmitted viral infection of the genitals. There are also promises of the word COMBAT, which is randomly placed into our text with about as much subtlety of a pile of cow-shit in a sandwhich.

Sky, Legolas, Frodo and Aragorn must prepare themselves for the onslaught that they have conveniently detected approaching from 2 LIGHTYEARS away. While in usual circumstances, this would involve the brandishing of weaponry, our heroes need only aceramic hair-straightenerand a tight-fitting singlet by Christian Dior to prepare themselves. Let us all stop and marvel at the breathtaking array of pale skin, muscularness and blue eye-edness that presents itself.

In sentences to come, Aragorn whips out ADVIL (his trusty sword with the tendency to misspell its own name), Frodo produces STING from some concealed (and imaginative) part of his body, and Legolas covers himself in tanning oil. Finally Sky fishes through her breast pocket, throwing aside a dagger, a set of nail clippers, the keys to her Farrari, a Nokia 8250, a 98 fat free apricot slice, a random boy-band, a health-shake with no added sugar, and a unicorn, until she brandishes a 70ft MAGIC WAND. We try to overlook the fact that it's an oversized DILDO.

Merry and Pippin are allowed permission to at least be aware of the danger at hand, as they win points for CUTENESS. Pippin falls over. Pippin walks into a tree. Pippin farts. Pippin gags on a penguin. He still seems to be FUNNY, so he gets a dagger.

Boromir brandishes his horn. He ignores the fact that a trombone would do more damage.

The remaining characters concern themselves with dragging their HAIRY NOSES, SMELLY BEERGUTS and SAGGY BUMCHEEKS around on the ground as they march aimlessly back and forth, completely unaware of anything, except perhaps that they are HIDEOUS.

Note:We are reminded that people with FACIAL HAIR exceeding shoulder- length are void of all 5 SENSES (more accurately, they possess the physical worth of a PUMPKIN). If they are also under 5"0 in stature, it is not required that we remember or spell their names correctly. Those that are distasteful enough to have a name starting with 'G' can be booted from the plotline for no apparent reason at ANY GIVEN TIME.

It is at this time that the company are finally assailed by the ENEMY. These come in many forms and can be known as Ork, Urik-hey, Goblens, Rock Trolls and any other misspelt abomination that would have the Ghost of Christmas Past shitting BRICKS for a week.

The Urik-hey are VISCIOUS and MENACING, described in a way that sounds as if we had actually expected them to offer us girl-scout cookies. They combat the fellowship's combat with combat that is a bit combated amongst the surrounding combats, so they scabbard their combats, so that they might not be combated by their scabbarding scabbards.

But they are no match for the power of the DILDO.

Sky stands, her hair piss green and her eyelashes braided to her kneecaps, surrounded by a glowing light that transcends the company with the DVD Special of Marry Poppins accompanied by Gandi's rendition of the Bible and a postscript of Sean Astin naked and covered in 40W motor oil. Sam lapses into a coma and nobody knows why.

"Lalago Lalaback Lalato Lalathe Laladarkness Lalafrom Lalawhence Lalayou Lalacame!"

There is a huge flash of light, wherein Sky morphs into 25 different species of mammal, is knighted by the queen, completes a 9th Dan kata from Shotokan Karate-do, resurrects JFK and fly-kicks Hitlar in the balls. Thus, she succeeds in blasting an entire nation-full of Urik-hey into half-way through next WEEK.

Although the rest of the Fellowship were about as useful as a fart in a windstorm, Legolas, Aragorn and Frodo have all somehow managed to get themselves TERMINALLY INJURED. They lie perfectly still, in a line, and completely topless as is only right of SIC's (nb: sexy injured characters). They whimper occasionally but still succeed in being either BUFF, RUGGED or ABNORMALLY SHORT.

ALAS! LO and BEHOLD! HEAVENS! THUS, THEE, THY and many other irrelevant phrases of old! Sky approaches, an epitome of light, a haven of beauty, a whore in a world of males! There are 3 upon the ground, in need of her aud, and ONE question runs rampantly through our heads.

When will this moron shut up?