Originally Posted by
57vintage
It is legend, that as the beast-laden Ark neared its forty days and forty nights voyage over The Great Flood, the intestinal output of two beasts of each clean species added considerably to the weight, and the keel nearly snagged on the Broad Hill. So, Noah called a meeting, inviting his wife, Joan, their sons and their wives.
Agenda:
1. the effects of the volume of produced animal guano on the manoeuvring capabilities and steering of the Ark
2. The fuucking stink in here.
Declaring the meeting quorate, Noah outlined the issues and their effects on navigation and opined of the malodorous, sour atmosphere, "It's like the fuuckin Ibrox washing basket in here", so the motion (ha!) was carried that the loons were each to be issued with a shovel, a pair of Showa 377 gloves, Purofort wellies and a nose claespeg, they'd previously found floating in the River Tay's strong currents as they navigated that tricky channel.
The animal detritus, in all its seven shades would need to be dumped overboard, and without delay.
Whilst Noah's loons were less than delighted to be employed as faecal-flingers, they set about their task, digging and delving, casting and flinging, retching and puking as they sought to protect the integrity of the vessel and, ultimately, the continuation of each of the planet's species, saved from watery extinction by their aul man's dexterity with chisel, tenon saw, spirit level and his knowledge of the strength of dovetail joints, dowelling and proficiency in fuucking and blinding like a base Galilean trawlerman when he skelped his thumb in error.
After seven nights and seven days of intensive graft, the anchored Ark was cleared of its hazardous cargo, much more efficiently than had those idle, overcharging chancers at Taylor Industrial Services, AB12 3LY, been sub-contracted the work.
Noah congratulated the loons as they bade farewell to the gargantuan pile of solid animal effluent, of such magnitude that it towered above the surface of the ocean, and was effusive in his gratitude in their having rescued all life for eternity.
And there the colossal pile of shiite remained, until Christopher Columbus bumped into it in 1492.