The idea is that a person starts with a line from a Fall song, and the monologue continues, Always using Fall lyrics.
so,
------------------------------
I was walking down the street,

Cold, pulled my shirt up

I'd just walked past the alcoholics' dry-out house

You start to walk
Where are you going?
Going to a shop
Your arms limp at your sides

It was a big fat February
Wet, the ugly pavement cracked
Pause, unsafe.

I thought:
Insect posse will be crushed.

I clench my fist and sing this tune:

Id sing 'Solitaire' for the BEF,
but who wants to be with them, anyway?

A crazy young lad called Mark
Created a band and couldnt give a fark
The path has been crazy
He certainly hasnt been lazy
But he keeps everything in the dark

Okay, so I'm going to assume we ignore Hey Student's trolling douchebaggery.


From Twinz2z:

Id sing 'Solitaire' for the BEF,
but who wants to be with them, anyway?


New:

I was sort of happy

Swingo greets lime green receptionists,
All here is ace, all here is ace,
(could greets be that mancunian term for crying?)

Grabbed the edge of my coat
Said: 'You're too smart for here'
I said: 'I'll see the manager'

he has the brain of a gnat

In fact you're a halfwit

Do I look like
I have...
Written on my forehead

Tight faded male arse, decadence and anarchy he said

Hi, I am Benny

i'll take both of you on!

On an asiatic plane, with wings not of the grain

Spine Fuhrer of Hoboken

They ascend and hit the mark,
those old frog 18th century revolters,

Joined by the old singer from Manchester

They had some fun with those cheapo airline snobs

:applaud:
"It was the time of the Giant Moths in the neighberhood of Infinity"

And they say
We cannot walk the floor at night in peace

They're warm, intelligent....and terribly misguided.

I got rat poison in my vincinity!

Moving down the lane inside

But I'm the sort that gets out of the bath with a dirty face

Male, white, mid-to-late 30s

at the zenith of his powers

He was a blubbering heap

like your psychotic big brother

Hit him on the head with a 2 by 4

Stop for a rest
Go back to scratch

His armpit

(two hairy) :ohdear:

And in his hands, two lager cans.
Talks to himself. At the back. At the top.

From the fringe of the fop

B)

(Cos It rhymes)

:D

Flaming hair shot through the streaking sun over him

(Starting to sound like a hair restorer advert ^_^ )

Shiny things you just cant buy,
,
with only 15 pence,