So, how creative are we in Sheffield? Time to find out...
Its simple really. Remember that kiddie game. We each write a bit of a story and someone else carries on where its been left off.

Don't know if this will work but give it a go anyway... try limiting each bit to a maximum of 5 lines... and avoid smilies.

If its any good I'll try bind it or something and send a copy to major contributors or stick a few copies around town. If its rubbish I won’t bother. Please be aware that copyright is forsaken here. :rolleyes:

So its got to start somewhere....



Jim was a careful chap but he

... was still being plauged with horrific nightmares ... even though it had been 12 years scince his 'accident' ...

sorry i replied but you got there before i did,i've messed it up already!!

no worries sarah ... i was just about to respond to yours ...

maybe we need some device to stop multiple people replying at the same time ...

... and then he woke up it was all a dream. The End.

The end of his nightmare ......

... and Jim smiled ... stretched and let out a most pleasing yawn ... and he was happy again ... happy to find himself once again in his waking state.

Relaxing he pulled the duvet over himself and rolled over for a crafty snooze ... and that was when he first noticed her ... and last nights memories all came flooding back ...

Originally posted by Jamie
The end of his nightmare ......

... and Jim smiled ... stretched and let out a most pleasing yawn ... and he was happy again ... happy to find himself once again in his waking state.

Relaxing he pulled the duvet over himself and rolled over for a crafty snooze ... and that was when he first noticed her ... and last nights memories all came flooding back ...

bugger. :mad:

He lay there, sifting through fragmented memories interspersed with raw shards of the nightmare he'd been enjoying. He listened to her sick and irregular breathing and fought the urge to drift off again. Fumbling in his mind for hazy recollections, suddenly the whole evening came cascading through his conciousness in a repellent and visceral shock wave.

He held his breath and stared at the back of her head, closed his eyes and wondered what the hell was he going to do. As he drifted back off to sleep, a smartly dressed butler appeared amongst the carnage and proferred a tray

"waking or sleeping nightmare sir?"

oh god not this one again, I really must not drink Tia Maria and lucozade any more.

As he drifted back off to sleep, a smartly dressed butler appeared amongst the carnage and proferred a tray

"waking or sleeping nightmare sir?"
oh god not this one again, I really must not drink Tia Maria and lucozade any more.
He rubbed his eyes and as if in a strange fit the butler morphed in to a woman. The black and white suit fell away revealling her silky smooth breast.
'can I get you anything?' said the vision. Jim felt a familiar swelling in his underpants.
'No, no that's OK! Oh there is one thing.......................?:cool:

Chickens. where is your spirit of adventure?

As he drifted back off to sleep, a smartly dressed butler appeared amongst the carnage and proferred a tray

"waking or sleeping nightmare sir?"
oh god not this one again, I really must not drink Tia Maria and lucozade any more.
He rubbed his eyes and as if in a strange fit the butler morphed in to a woman. The black and white suit fell away revealling her silky smooth breast.
'can I get you anything?' said the vision. Jim felt a familiar swelling in his underpants.
'No, no that's OK! Oh there is one thing.....

He stopped mid sentence, disbeliving that which his eyes were showing him. He sat, bolt upright in the bed rubbing his eyes and once again Butler morphed in to another image, Blakey.

UURRGGHH I hate you Butler, he cried.

As he turned round in disgust at the site of his morphing Butler his fellow bed companion stirred in to life and in a whinging tone cried "ooh Arthur, Ive dropped my pickled onion".

This was all too much for him, he had descended from the hero of a tale wrote by insomniacs on a web site to a fictional charictor in a naff seventies sit com, where would it all end

He rolled out of bed and staggered into the bathroom, glared at himself in the mirror wondering if there was anything he was supposed to do that day. There was bound to be something but in that half state of consciousness it wasn't quite clear.

As he sat on the loo waiting for last night's Special Balti to work its way through, he spotted a note on the floor. Picking it up out of sheer curiosity he realised it was a Classic Rock Bar flier advertising the bands playing that month. One band playing tomorrow was circled and a phone number, in HIS handwriting was next to it......

One band playing tomorrow was circled and a phone number, in HIS handwriting was next to it......


A cold shiver ran it's way down the length of his spine as the sight of the black biro on the crumpled paper brought back memories so painfull, he'd much rather forget. Except he couldn't forget no matter how hard he tried. It would haunt him for the rest of his life, shaping his future and changing everything. He screwed up the paper and tossed it wilfully into the bin wishing he'd never come across 'him' again. 'He' was his nemesis and was determined to get a grip on his life again. Once more he felt powerless to resist....................

But he realised how important the CLASSIC ROCK BAR flier was to him as it was his essential social lifeline and he didn't want to forget when the Plastix were playing next, so fished it out of the bin.....

When he got to the bar he felt nervous as he entered. He took a deep breath and in he went.

He knew that the landlord of the bar knew him well, and the radio station where he worked.
All it would take was one filppant text message to the Toby Foster show and the whole Radio station would know he had pulled a sickie to go to the bar and listen to Plastix

He dashed back out in the street and relized that the only way to get away with it was a disguise.
Luckily for him he had on him the mobile number of Berniie Clifton, who he rang, and within minutes his old friend had dropped off a costume for him to wear in the bar.

He went back in and bought a drink for himself and one for the ostrich.

But what was he to do at chucking out time............

He sat down and waited for something to happen, gazing round at the posters on the walls.....

From the corner of the room he saw the huge outline of a man lumbering towards him. The man sat down on his right hand side and started to mumble something Which he couldnt quite make out.

"Im sorry mate, what did you say?" he asked in the politest voice he could muster.

"Not you, you clown. I was talking to your mate !!
Any way love, like I was saying, whats a nice bird like you doing in a place like this?"

He then relized that the man was trying to chat up the ostrich.

How was he going to get out of this one ?????