Don't really have a treasured possession
EXCEPT MY COCK LOLOLOLOL.


(Sorry for that).
(Maccy Divided by 0 on, Thu 15 May 2008, 12:06, Reply)

My exorcism...
After the devil took over my soul and thus claimed control over my earthly body, my loved ones sought help from numerous sources. In the end, they were directed to Paris, to the finest exorcist in Europe.

The whole procedure took a long time and his fee was exorbitant. You could say it was a trés cher possession.
(LongJohnBaldry, Thu 15 May 2008, 12:02, Reply)

If you don't like puns, I suggest you look away...
In my youth, I was a bit of a sailor. No, not like that, you dirty buggers.

It started small – leaping in to a rowing boat with nothing but a backpack stuffed with jaffa cakes and ginger beer and lazily floating down the river. Gradually, things got larger – from sailing in the estuary on little clippers, to becoming a crew member on a catamaran. I’ve sailed on passenger ferries and oil tankers, luxury yachts and canal barges – all of which ultimately led me to become a qualified Skipper.

For my first feat, I decided that I would try to set the record for sailing around the world single handed. Many tried to dissuade me, but I shook off their concerns. I got sponsored, got a boat, and on one sunny morning I set off from Portsmouth and my journey had begun.
After 2 weeks at sea, and heading for Cape Horn, I sailed straight in to the biggest storm I’ve ever seen. The sea was building giant walls of water around me, which would come crashing down on my little boat and throw me around like a twig. The wind howled, the rain lashed and the lightning seemed to be tearing the very sky asunder.

I prepared myself for the worst. I prepared for death.

And then, almost as quickly as it began, the storm was over. I was sat on a sea as flat as a mill-pond, there was no wind, and I wasn’t going anywhere. Looking over the port side, I saw a small island around 100 metres away. Checking my maps, there was nothing charted, so where on Earth was I?

I weighed anchor, dropped a dinghy, and rowed over. The Island was surrounded by gorgeous white sand – but unusually it housed a forest of tall, thin trees. I stepped ashore, fascinated at this marvel of nature.
All of a sudden a rope was thrown around me, and I found myself swiftly and expertly bound to a tree. My foes stepped out – hundreds, maybe thousands, of tiny people – like the gnomes from truckers. They swarmed up my body, and one crept up to my ear and spoke in clear, crisp English:

“Who are you?” He said.

“I’m the Devil,” I said “The Devil In Tights.”

A hush fell over the people. Eyes stared at me, fingers twitched nervously on tiny weapons. And then – the sound of laiughter.

“The prophecy!” they chanted “The Chosen One has come to save us!”

Quick as a flash, they cut my ropes. I was borne aloft along the shore, weaving between the trees... Towards a giant throne made of rubies and emeralds and gold.

Yes, friends – that was my Tree-Shored Procession.

*dies*
( Devil_In_Tights the *real* DiT!, Thu 15 May 2008, 12:00, 2 replies)

join 'em
My mate Therese met Midge Ure in a Royal Mail sorting office.

It was a most Therese/Ure-ed post-session.
( crackhouseceilidhband Fuck off back to Mumsnet, Thu 15 May 2008, 11:57, 3 replies)

If you can't beat 'em...
.
I once made a shack out of a tree. Sadly, a ghost came to live in it.

It was a tree-shed possession.

Cheers
( Legless Mister Stabby - shanks for the memory, Thu 15 May 2008, 11:55, 2 replies)

Arrrrghh me hearties
my most treasured possesions are actually forcibly possessed treasures.

if my house (galleon) burnt down, i would just try and get to my treasure stash on a secret island. Then rebuild my pirate empire from there.

#Shakes hook hand at you all!!#
( bazza van der trance , ooh baby baby, baby baby. Get up on this., Thu 15 May 2008, 11:43, Reply)

One day
I was walking down the road and I felt a strange cramp in my stomach.

Suddenly my body defied the laws of physics, my arms inverted in on themselves, kidneys moved both into the past and future, and legs became 19 dimensional.

Stranded as I was a gentleman came along and sketched me as i was, made a copy for me and then wandered off

I returned to normal eventually but will always remember my treasured pose for Escher
(Halfy By light alone, Thu 15 May 2008, 11:26, Reply)

Pet Peeve
Waiting for the QOTW to change... and when people answer the wrong QOTW :)
(Miggyman, Thu 15 May 2008, 11:13, 2 replies)

Treasured Possession
Well I suppose my most treasured possessions are the memories I have of my family....

And my music...I love my music...if it was a choice between going deaf or blind then I know it would be blindness!

hang on how would I watch all my pr0n if I was blind! sod that take my ears instead!
(Lip Up Fatty Fatty Reggae still loves BBQ food on, Thu 15 May 2008, 9:37, 1 reply)

Treasured Possession
For me my vast collection of beer is a treasured possession.

Unfortunately if I drink too much of it not only am I guaranteed to mix my words but also my cock will be droopiest as sureness.

its an anagram. please try and keep up
( enoughblueskyforsailorstrousers, Thu 15 May 2008, 9:08, Reply)

Stephen H
My Wheelchair!





I'll get my coat
(The Sitmpwa, Thu 15 May 2008, 5:19, Reply)

It would take a lot of time
but I'd have to try and wheel out the grandfather clock that's been in my family for four generations now. It was first purchased by my great-grandfather, before he went off to fight in the Great War. He wasn't a particularly bright man, and he decided to bring it with him. He smuggled it past the officers by disguising it as a mess tin. Once he was set up in the trenches, he installed it as a permanent fixture of his mud-hole. When he went over the top, he carried it with him. That clock saved my great-grandad's life several times, and that's why there are several hundred bullet holes in it to this day.

When my great-grandad returned from the war, with severe back problems, he put the clock in our hallway, where it remained until my grandfather was called up to fight in WW2. He was stationed in the Eastern theatre, and found the clock a tad useless, as they used a 20 hour clock over there. Nonetheless, he kept it with him, despite numerous beach landings in which he, instead of swimming to shore, would sink to the bottom and then walk. Finally, surrounded on an island being attacked by the Japanese, he gave the clock to an Air Force gunner by the name of Winnocki, asking him to return it to my grandmother in return for the promise of her giving him oral sex. Well Winnocki kept his promise, and my grandma kept hers. Three days later, my grandad died, safe in the knowledge that Winnocki would get herpes.

Then, when my father, an eccentric fellow, went to fight in Vietnam, he too took the clock. He strapped it to the side of his plane, despite the huge balance problems this caused. It was this that probably contributed to him being shot down over Hanoi. Now my father was in a bit of a pickle. He knew that the Vietnamese, having adopted a 24 hour clock in 1949, would be eager to get their hands on such a fine grandfather clock, so he decided to hide it, the only place he knew. His ass. That explains the rather worn down edges by the way. Five years he wore that six foot tall wooden clock up his ass, he walked like John Wayne, and couldn't sit down, winding it was a bugger as well. When he eventually died, of dysentery, his friend, always having envied my father's rigid posture, hid the clock up his ass for two years. When he was returned home, having kept the clock up his ass for the several flights it took him to reach me, apparently to save on luggage space, he reluctantly gave me the clock. After extensive cleaning, it's occupied a space in my hallway ever since, apart from the occasional exploratory journey up my colon.
(LickOutTheJamsMotherfuckers!, Thu 15 May 2008, 3:27, 2 replies)

My most treasured possession...
Being evil and all has its tolls. Always kow-towing to Satan, doing his dirty work and kissing his scaly pimpled butt (hail Satan). I mean, what else is a devil going to do these days?

Oh wait - I know, take over people! This one's always fun... Like they say though, doing something for work just makes it seem no fun anymore. However, I always try to spice things up. I was the be-horned one (horny? na... that's just how I make you feel after one too many when you're eying up the whale across the bench) who ran the pigs off the cliff. Showmanship, that's me.

My most treasured possession experience (hail Satan) on which I fondly dote is the time I completely took over Britney Spears and did one of her concerts for her. I was on such a buzz after that I flew past George Bush and flicked him in the face with my tail, increasing his IQ by 0.000001%.
(satellite blows, Thu 15 May 2008, 2:47, Reply)

my necklace
It is a black glass heart on black ribbon and was a present from my boyfriend for Christmas but now I can't bear not to wear it. I've lost it twice and been distraught each time until eventually found a week later. Either that or Ted, my boyfriend's first ever teddy bear that he gave to me.
(deadly_sinners, Wed 14 May 2008, 22:29, Reply)

Your mum

( chickenlady b3ta's very own Elizabeth Taylor, Wed 14 May 2008, 21:15, 7 replies)

polo
When I was 6 my eldest brother went away to America with one of his friends, now as you do he brought us all back presents and he got me a polar bear hand puppet who I named Polo. When I was this age I always slept with my "favourite" teddy which changed everytime I got a new one, however Polo remained a permanent fixture in my bed for a while to come and continued to be my favourite even when I was bought new teddies.

Once however, after a sleepover at a friends he went missing, I couldn't find him anywhere and neither could my friend or her parents. I was inconsolable and cried every night, my mum tried phoning up everywhere trying to find a replacement, I think possibly even phoning up the company in America to see if a replacement could be found but, no luck.

Luckily for me though he was found hiding under the stairs at my friends house and me and Polo were united again.

Now, 13/14 years on, I still share my bed with that Polar bear and I couldn't bear to lose him. If the house was ablaze fuck my phone, my ipod or my computer, Polo is irreplaceable and I wouldn't even have to think twice if I could only save one thing.

I'm such a loser.
(lei, Wed 14 May 2008, 21:13, 1 reply)

My heart.
I just don't know what I'd do without it.
(lickmyballsandscrotum, Wed 14 May 2008, 21:04, 3 replies)

My golden suit of armour
is haunted by ghosts who bring it to life every night. It’s my most possessed treasure.
( mistaspakkaman and the inedible shifting caterpillars, Wed 14 May 2008, 20:10, 21 replies)

My most treasured possesion are my teeth.
They are one of my few redeeming features and I have teh fear of losing them. Happily they would be in my mouth should a fire start and so would be quick to save.
( girlinthehole, Wed 14 May 2008, 19:30, 145 replies)

I used to live on a farm
which one day went up in flames.

Running from the house, I went hell for leather towards the enclosure where the old bull was kept, throwing buckets of water around its wooden walls to stave off the approaching fire.

My father, unsure why I bothered to protect that particular enclosure above all others, questioned my actions.

"Surely that old rickety thing would just just burn down and let the beast escape?" he said.

"Ah yes", I replied. "But you misunderstand. I have to save this particular structure. It's my most treasured possession in the whole world. In dis pen's a bull, in fact!"

_{Do I get the prize for the most contrived answer this week?}
( K2k6 has a proper job these days, Wed 14 May 2008, 19:29, 11 replies)

Blanky
The blanky mum gave me on my birthday.
( postal ninja has Transmissible spongiform encephalopathies, Wed 14 May 2008, 19:04, Reply)

My Dutch cat
is the only cat in the world that can write. However, he can only write the letter 'S'. I've got pages of them. Those are my most treasured poes-essen.
( mistaspakkaman and the inedible shifting caterpillars, Wed 14 May 2008, 18:50, 4 replies)

You.

( Harold Bishop's Love Child some sort of terrifying sex magician., Wed 14 May 2008, 18:41, Reply)

How about..
Has anyone spoken of their penis being their most measured possession?
(The_Greyhound wrote www.luckymcdanger.blog.co.uk on, Wed 14 May 2008, 18:24, 1 reply)

My French lesson ends at 12:30
That means that treize heur's post session.
( mistaspakkaman and the inedible shifting caterpillars, Wed 14 May 2008, 18:09, Reply)

Right now it would be
my chilled wine.

And the reclaimed scaffold boards I'm about to stick in the garden for a raised vegetable bed.


I'm so chuffing middle classed!
( chickenlady b3ta's very own Elizabeth Taylor, Wed 14 May 2008, 18:09, 39 replies)

one time in band camp
idly spit-roasting a teletubbie, I was startled by a screech of "Eeh oh!" in my ear right at the moment of climax. I slipped and broke both my legs.

It was a most treacherous po session.

/coat
( rofl harris, Wed 14 May 2008, 17:42, Reply)

My mate
with a bit of an embarrassing name shagged Tara Palmer Tompkinson the other week but he has now got some very strange pustules on his knob.

Yep, Trevors posh lesions.
(Halfy By light alone, Wed 14 May 2008, 17:34, 13 replies)

Hmm
Apart from Kite Jr and Mrs Kite, probably my books; military reference stuff mainly. I'd need a wheelbarrow or something, theres a lot of pages.

Oh and my 360, but that's pretty light.
(kitescreech still here, Wed 14 May 2008, 17:31, 1 reply)

It's Wednesday again.
One day, after slaving away for years in my lab, I managed to create an entire erotic dance routine out of vegetation.

It was tree-spawned pole-sessions.

Oh shit, that was the worst one yet...
(Half of Stephen Fry's right buttock pissed on your dog on, Wed 14 May 2008, 17:22, Reply)