chowder, a game for you.
Honey, unless you look like a gnome, I’m giving your body wide berth. Apparently I’ve got a heretofore unsuspected thing for gnomes–at least in the theoretical sense.
Oh, we could have a lineup of 6 gnome-ettes and one bearded Henry the 8th gnome. Those gnome-ettes who lost their head over Henry’s dubious attractions would be holding theirs.
An Albert gnome could be burning cakes. A Richard the Lionhearted gnome could be crusading in other neighbor’s yards, be taken hostage and the owner has to pay ransom!
We could have a Neville Chamberlain gnome, waving a slip of paper.
A Winston Churchill gnome (no stretch there) supervising the Dunkirk evacuation.
Stick a gnome up in an oak tree and you’ve got Charles whatever number, attempting to flee.
Burke and Hare digging up little gnome caskets.
A Jack the Ripper gnome, complete with prostitutes.
Truly, my life now as a purpose I never felt the lack of before. Gnomes complete me…
At your age shouldn’t you be the one collecting garden gnomes? At 54 I’m in the upper range for wanting them to make an ironic statement about “cool.” Them and pink flamingos. But the nice pink flamingos, not the shitty ones you get at WalMart and Mexican flea markets.
I want some Winter Olympics gnomes. An Eddie The Eagle skiing gnome would be wonderful.
Look here, this thread started life as a bit of a rant and has rapidly deteriorated into a joke gnome fest.
This is not at all in the spirit of things, you Dopers are supposed to commiserate with me, offer words of support…oh wait.
You already did that.
Anyway it’s just past midnight here in Merrie England, time for my Horlicks and night socks.
Carry on
Are you sure you can sleep with all those gnomes eyes, staring into the darkness that surrounds your house? They never blink or look away…
Children of the Gnomes.
My apologies, chowder. I shouldn’t have made light of your ordeal. Here, I wrote a little song to cheer you up. You Brits are familiar with that ditty we call Home on the Range, aren’t you? Well, here ya go then—just hum your woes away…
*Oh rid me my home
Of these hideous gnomes
God, please make them all disappear!
I’m begging you please
They’re breeding like fleas
And my neighbor just grins ear-to-ear.
Gnomes, gnomes everywhere!
Now he’s got one on top of his car.
I’m getting my gun
It’ll be so much fun
This year he’s just gone too far…*
<applause>
Looking balefully out the window at Gnomeville I realised something.
They’re all wearing jackboots!!
Not just garden Gnomes but Nazi garden Gnomes
Just how many Ambien did you chase down with that warm milk? :dubious:
I think technically that’s called a gnorgy. Just because that’s how I read it the first time.
Can someone please explain how this thread got so far without anyone mentioning the word, ‘slingshot’?? You guys are slipping.
But hey, it could be worse!
I see what you did there. 
I found black-faced watermelon-eating gnomes on the Net. They are soooo wrong!
I want one.
Or air gun or BB gun or nuke from orbit or…
You’re evil. I like you.
You can always use a Jarvey. 
I used to have an Hispanic laborer one that was taking a siesta (not kidding). Came with the house, don’t know it’s history. I now seriously regret not snapping a pic of the little monstrosity before taking the sledgehammer to it.