I knew them as "nigger balls". And they are still around in various adulterated forms. Notably they are softer. Which spoils the fun.

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'We're all mad here. I'm mad, you're mad." [said the Cat.]
"How do you know I'm mad?" said Alice.
"You must be," said the Cat, "Or you wouldn't have come here."
- Lewis Carroll, Alice's Adventures In Wonderland

Definitely non PC these days Martin.

Just an addendum to the story about the dog and the Choo Choo bar:
<pulls a pickle out of the barrel, sits back in rocker>

As one would imagine, I was a bit annoyed at having to peel the offending slice of licorice flavoured tar from the roof of the beast's mouth.

After a quick check that I retained all ten digits (or whether I'd have to mount another expedition into the maw, to retrieve any that had been bitten off) I held up the offending slab of lolly - the dog was jumping up trying to get it back again - and enquired after the identity of the culprit who had fed it to the hound. The three usual suspects gave nothing away and denied all knowledge of L'Affaire de Choo Choo until I solemnly pronounced that they should be aware that the tongues of liars were prone to turn black (as with the similarly well known, "Tell-tale-tit, thy tongue shall split").

On receipt of the aforesaid rule of nature, one of them began sweating profusely from the forehead and I had my man - or, as it were, 6 year old girl. We inspected her tongue and it was indeed black, as forecast, and she fessed up. That the other two also had black tongues (and lips, teeth, gums and probably stomach linings) from their own Choo Choo bars, was seemingly irrelevant.

Of the other two half-eaten bars, one had been discarded into the bin after several hours of sucking had failed to soften it in the slightest, and the other was found in a drawer, permanently fused to a pair of underpants and the bottom of the drawer. We've since given away that item of furniture, but to the best of my knowledge the Choo Choo bar and underpants are still there.

Robert,

I had forgotten the Choo Choo Bar. They were still available about 15 years ago, as my sister in law got me a retailer's box of them for a birthday. I was in kiddy heaven again for weeks, even though my wife tried to ration them. My kids don't like them, and as an aside referring to nature/nurture of another thread, it appears that the love of chewing black licorice flavoured garden hose is nature. I did reverse Al Jolson impressions while they lasted.


Jazz_Sue,

Is the word 'intelligent' that which caused you to have a rethink about the second last line. And mine was a Rusty Nail made to the aforementioned formula. Ice only if it is hot day.

And I think that you are right in that the fforum is the contemporary equivalent to the coffee shop meeting of old. I discussed this with a psychiatrist and he was of the opinion that in many ways it has more benefits because of the wider ranging group of individuals with whom you interact and the fact that it has a 24 hour a day existence so that comments are being made all through the day. I have been surprised just how many fforumites seem to be looking at times when all good girls and boys should be asleep in bed, adjusted for regional time zones. I guess that there are other insomniacs otherwise sleep dysfunctional persons in the world.

Long may our moderator moderate!!!!!!

Maybe for intelligent conversation, the liberal application of alcohol is not the best idea. Especially on the Fforum.

Trebor Basset in the UK used to make something called Bassetti, it was never a big mover in the mid-80's, and after a box had sat on a shelf for a few weeks it had assumed the looks and consistency of old boot leather. Don't know if they still make it but I would love some!

CannibalRabbit Wrote:
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> Don't know if they still make it but I would love some!

Since boots have gotten so @#$%& these days, I seriously doubt you could have old leather. (What does happen to old boots nowadays, anyway? Are they burned, or sent to Africa, or what?)

Although I am now a less-frequent visitor to the Fforum, during my enforced absence from the full-time working community, it kept me sane. (Work out for yourselves the state I would have been in if this place qualified as sanity!)

I miss some of the lost posters and sometimes I wonder about the rest of you. <grins>

I like the coffee shop analogy, but to me it was more like a local pub that I used to frequent - the regulars covered all walks of life from trash collector (job not hobby) to stockbroker and age-groups from only-just-legal-to-be-there through to the-box-is-ready_whenever-you-are.

The thing was that conversations meandered and were fun.

I get the same feeling here. It is sort of warm and octarine, with hardly any malice.

Seriousity over.

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My computer beat me at chess, but I won at kickboxing

Choo-choo bars sound like fun....

I must endeavour to get my sticky paws on one....

And yes, I never claimed that the liquorice balls were PC. :P

__________________________________
'We're all mad here. I'm mad, you're mad." [said the Cat.]
"How do you know I'm mad?" said Alice.
"You must be," said the Cat, "Or you wouldn't have come here."
- Lewis Carroll, Alice's Adventures In Wonderland

I mentioned missing SMOOTHIE PEANUT BUTTER CUPSþ in the boardello once & somebody found them here:

[www.nostalgiccandy.com]

Check it out, they could have what you want, too...

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Signature or shameless self-promotion?
You decide:

[www.myspace.com]

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Re the old boots.

Old boots made of leather have two fates. The right ffoot ones are thrust through an interdimensional interface never to be seen again in this universe.

The left boots are allocated to fishing spots, so that regardless of where you are eventually you will snag and draw in a left foot leather boot. I think Kipling or maybe Michael Flanders wrote a poem about this.

Brass bedsteads have a similar fate.

You will notice after several years that the supply of left leather boots and brass bedsteads in inexhaustable. This is only because their placement is not random. One of the basic forces of nature, along the lines of the work of Dirac, is that no more than one bedstead, or boot, can occupy the same place at the same time. So that when either one of these items is retrieved and removed nature takes a hand and puts another one in its place. in the meantime I think that their existence is 'potential' only, to be realised as 'real' objects when needed.

You're forgetting Schrödinger's Treasure Chests. They lie on the bottom of every lake, but as soon as you dive down and start to look for them, their waveform collapses to...boots and bedsteads.

It was Michael Flanders. And was called Bedstead Men.

It is all about the secret society which puts this rubbish down.

__________________________________
'We're all mad here. I'm mad, you're mad." [said the Cat.]
"How do you know I'm mad?" said Alice.
"You must be," said the Cat, "Or you wouldn't have come here."
- Lewis Carroll, Alice's Adventures In Wonderland