[GeoffC]

The snail snarled as it stubbed out its cigar and crawled back into its shell.
"pffft, no one would believe me".
He span round in his shell until his nose was pointing out into the wind and the snow.
"pffffffttttt, global warming is such a mess. Here am I, trying to make a living out of leaving slime footprints all over the place, and this white stuff keeps covering it up! Next there'll be psocks walking about without feet in them...."
A squirrel jumped down from the spindly pine and rapped on the shell with a hazelnut she had picked up sometime in the early part of the day. Rattattattaaattttaaatt she hammered on the shell.
"pfffftttttfft! - what do want, my dear? Don't tell me the contract has been terminated, along with the prospect of a summer of passionate love this year?"
"Why no, my sweetheart; you just keep your thoughts to yourself."


"What do you mean, he's been closed down?"
"It's closing, production stopping, all the elves will be given their cards in the next few days."
"But what will we do without him? Montnmags' ZCD is the last remaining source, once that's gone, there'll be no more - ever !"
"Correct, once the last one has been absorbed, then no more - ever!"
"Sacre Bleu" (he said in a false french accent - think Clousteau), "Heavens bells, barnacles and luv a ducks".
"Quite, and what do you propose to do about it?"
"Not too sure, but make no mistake about it - this is a situation that calls for immediate and drastic action!!"



"We are all gathered here today, in the sight of this lonely pod, to consider the first threat to us all since the coming of the age of 'Geographic Restrictions'. Mr Squirrel, please be so kind as to read our manifesto".
A cough comes from behind the lecturn, and a long bushy red tail is the only thing to be seen by the multitude in front.
"My lords, ladies, gentlemen and 'psocks galore'. Be upstanding all yee afficionados, this is our pledge......'We, the chosen from the ranks of the pure at heart and silliness, hereby demand the return of The ZCD production manager'" ------------------------ pauses for a seemingly long breath.
Cheers from the crowd, expecting this to presage the start of a long diatribe detailing a full and frankly boringly active campaign.


Silence follows from the stage.


"Erm, Mr Squirrel, pray do continue."
"That's it, boss."
"That's it!", splutters, "you do not want to elaborate?"
"Nope".

"Pffffffttttt".

The snail snarled as it stubbed out its electronic cigarette and crawled back into its shell.
"pffft, I told you all no one would believe me".
He pirrouettedly span round in his shell until his nose was pointing out into the wind and the snow.

"Damn that chappie, where's he gone to now? nowhere seems an obvious place, just when and where is it on the GZCDGPS"?