- EorayMel
-
WE GET IT. YOU LOVE GUN JESUS. Toujours des fusils Bullpup Français.
|
the teletubbies have televisions inside of their tummies but teletummies didn't have the same ring to it so the name was changed to be teletubbies instead and they were also fattened up to better match the new brand of teletubbies
|
#
?
Aug 19, 2022 05:02
|
|
- Adbot
-
ADBOT LOVES YOU
|
|
#
?
May 7, 2024 16:07
|
|
- Buttchocks
-
No, I like my hat, thanks.
|
Telegutties
|
#
?
Aug 19, 2022 07:27
|
|
- Chrs
-
|
that vacuum cleaner they had used to get up to some right antics always hoovering up the toast and Christmas decorations and poo poo. I’d have took it to the dump ages ago if that was mine.
|
#
?
Aug 19, 2022 12:00
|
|
- Chrs
-
|
I bet the teletubbies were always thinking like “argh for gently caress sake” when they were the ones who picked up the broadcast because they knew that meant they had to watch it upside down at an angle
|
#
?
Aug 19, 2022 12:03
|
|
- nut
-
|
PA whispering to the director: I’m sorry but the baby got trapped in the sun
|
#
?
Aug 19, 2022 14:48
|
|
- Khanstant
-
|
i thin ktheyre marsupials op, the tv is in their pouch
|
#
?
Aug 19, 2022 16:50
|
|
- google THIS
-
|
Day 3482
We are still stranded on this godforsaken planet. The infant sun beats down on us, mocking us with its laughter, forcing us underground. We can only survive brief excursions during the day, and even so, the nights are worse. As the laughing sun sets we must all race inside and seal our home up tight against the darkness and what lurks in it.
We have subsisted on toast and custard for what feels like ages. That is, what little we can gather from the dispensers before the Noo Noo steals it. Like most of the other machinery we salvaged from our crashed ship the Noo Noo has gone completely rampant, causing chaos, commanding us rather than obeying our commands, dispensing our rations and controlling our activities seemingly at random. Fits of madness are our only reprieve, times when our minds can escape into childish games or giggles at our own torment.
Our only hope is rescue, so we have tuned our cyborg implants to listen for any transmission. Like everything else, our implants have gone faulty, and only one of ours will be functional on any given day. Even our makeshift windmill amplifier does little to help.
Long have we waited for a comforting message from our homeworld, some promise that help is on the way, and so we still gather in excitement whenever one of our screens winks to life. More often than not the transmission is actually a British child telling us about some boring field trip or activity they did at school. But it is our last grain of hope, and so we continue to watch each transmission with a facade of enthusiasm even after hundreds of disappointments. Truthfully, however, I don't know how much longer we can hold out.
|
#
?
Aug 20, 2022 18:04
|
|
- Manifisto
-
|
Day 3482
We are still stranded on this godforsaken planet. The infant sun beats down on us, mocking us with its laughter, forcing us underground. We can only survive brief excursions during the day, and even so, the nights are worse. As the laughing sun sets we must all race inside and seal our home up tight against the darkness and what lurks in it.
We have subsisted on toast and custard for what feels like ages. That is, what little we can gather from the dispensers before the Noo Noo steals it. Like most of the other machinery we salvaged from our crashed ship the Noo Noo has gone completely rampant, causing chaos, commanding us rather than obeying our commands, dispensing our rations and controlling our activities seemingly at random. Fits of madness are our only reprieve, times when our minds can escape into childish games or giggles at our own torment.
Our only hope is rescue, so we have tuned our cyborg implants to listen for any transmission. Like everything else, our implants have gone faulty, and only one of ours will be functional on any given day. Even our makeshift windmill amplifier does little to help.
Long have we waited for a comforting message from our homeworld, some promise that help is on the way, and so we still gather in excitement whenever one of our screens winks to life. More often than not the transmission is actually a British child telling us about some boring field trip or activity they did at school. But it is our last grain of hope, and so we continue to watch each transmission with a facade of enthusiasm even after hundreds of disappointments. Truthfully, however, I don't know how much longer we can hold out.
ty nesamdoom!
|
#
?
Aug 20, 2022 18:53
|
|
- Manifisto
-
|
I have made a wonderful invention, a device that allows me to travel through time! yet I am afraid I must destroy it, for I have traveled into the far future, and seen the horrible fate in store for humanity. initially, it seemed to me that all was well: humanity had become a race of colorful, childlike beings with televisions in their stomachs. these joyful, innocent beings gamboled and played with seemingly nary a care in the world, save for a curious aversion to well-like structures dotted around the landscape. once darkness fell, however, the shocking truth became evident: from out of these wells crawled a race of grotesque, stunted figures, apparently descended from today's television advertising executives. these horrific beasts captured the sleeping eloi and inserted mind control messages into their stomach-televisions, urging the populace to engage in materialistic consumption, including buying cheap, breakable toys and other gadgets they didn't need and suggesting the consumption of sugary snacks and cereals with little nutritional value. truly the darkest future imaginable.
ty nesamdoom!
|
#
?
Aug 20, 2022 19:04
|
|
- Twenty Four
-
|
Day 3482
We are still stranded on this godforsaken planet. The infant sun beats down on us, mocking us with its laughter, forcing us underground. We can only survive brief excursions during the day, and even so, the nights are worse. As the laughing sun sets we must all race inside and seal our home up tight against the darkness and what lurks in it.
We have subsisted on toast and custard for what feels like ages. That is, what little we can gather from the dispensers before the Noo Noo steals it. Like most of the other machinery we salvaged from our crashed ship the Noo Noo has gone completely rampant, causing chaos, commanding us rather than obeying our commands, dispensing our rations and controlling our activities seemingly at random. Fits of madness are our only reprieve, times when our minds can escape into childish games or giggles at our own torment.
Our only hope is rescue, so we have tuned our cyborg implants to listen for any transmission. Like everything else, our implants have gone faulty, and only one of ours will be functional on any given day. Even our makeshift windmill amplifier does little to help.
Long have we waited for a comforting message from our homeworld, some promise that help is on the way, and so we still gather in excitement whenever one of our screens winks to life. More often than not the transmission is actually a British child telling us about some boring field trip or activity they did at school. But it is our last grain of hope, and so we continue to watch each transmission with a facade of enthusiasm even after hundreds of disappointments. Truthfully, however, I don't know how much longer we can hold out.
|
#
?
Aug 20, 2022 19:24
|
|
- Mummy Napkin
-
|
don’t try the tubby custard. trust me it’s vile.
|
#
?
Aug 21, 2022 02:56
|
|
- Finger Prince
-
|
https://i.imgur.com/nea3ZHv.mp4
|
#
?
Aug 25, 2022 05:22
|
|
- Lurker Ant
-
|
don’t try the tubby custard. trust me it’s vile.
Remember when somebody posted a pic of the tubby custard machine on Twitter and said it was how McNuggets were made, and then McDonald’s had to make a video to prove that their nugs are made of real chicken and not pink paste? Good times
|
#
?
Aug 25, 2022 06:15
|
|
- Buttchocks
-
No, I like my hat, thanks.
|
Remember when somebody posted a pic of the tubby custard machine on Twitter and said it was how McNuggets were made, and then McDonald’s had to make a video to prove that their nugs are made of real chicken and not pink paste? Good times
Still haven't proven that Ronald isn't made of pink paste.
|
#
?
Aug 25, 2022 12:03
|
|
- Adbot
-
ADBOT LOVES YOU
|
|
#
?
May 7, 2024 16:07
|
|