Slimmys slimy slamy search

What are the translations for slimy? Abounding with or consisting of slime: Google Ngram Viewer results for slimy: This graph shows how "slimy" have occurred between and in a corpus of English books. What are the usage examples for slimy? They bumped against the slimy moldering piles , threaded through them toward the side of the pier. Los Angeles , I don't like that town. Too decadent , and it's slimy. Afrikaans word for Slimy slymerige.

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French word for Slimy gluant. German word for Slimy schleimig. Italian word for Slimy viscido. Javanese word for Slimy Slimy. None of our hearts were particularly in it. The Germans were busily cleaning up all around. One of them, a short man pushing a wheelbarrow through the debris made his way past us.

There, stood the elderly man with the wheelbarrow - who upon closer inspection appeared to be- "My god, it's Kaiser Wilhhelm! I hear you liberated us from der Fuhrer? We's straight up wrecked his reich. The kaiser snapped his fingers, and immediately, the rest of the cleaning staff assembled in front of him. He barked several orders in fast, high pitched German, clapped his hands, and they raced away, grins upon their faces. They ran from job to job, painting, decorating, hanging bunting and rolling huge, beautiful kegs of beer.

Before our eyes, and in the space of a morning, Oktoberfest had materialised - a full year early. The Kaiser welcomed us into a beer tent, the size and magnificence of which we had never seen before.

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The lads poured inside, and immediately set upon the hundreds of interesting kegs of beer. We's got it covered. We, along with many others spilled out from the tent, and squinted up into the sky. What looked like an entire squadron of Spitfires was rapidly approaching. But something about them seemed different. A keg rolled in front of the Prime Minister, who rested a foot on it, and adressed the gathered crowd.

Grab a Stein my mandem - today we party like it's Oktober ! The liberation of Oktoberfest was, truly, going to be ein right giraffe. Oct 4, Messages: Nov 10, Messages: SgtGranite , Jul 14, Jul 27, Messages: If Hitler was in this world, he would think it Hitlarious. Flyerton99 , Jul 14, October 5th, "You sure about this Slimmy? He sat in the tank commander's seat, raised slightly above the rest of us. The field marshall smiled from the driver's seat below.

My mum got me the fast and furious box set for christmas. I's like, totally got this. The tank's windows steamed up for a moment. The second hand on the dashboard-clock made its way slowly to the minute mark. Ten seconds to go. The ton leviathan took off like a rocket, thundering towards the alps. Fences, barriers, even entire trees were smashed aside as if they were paper and matchsticks, and with a sudden lurch, we hit the sharp, upward slope of the mountains.

Churchill, calm and measured, spoke into the vehicle's radio. Floor it" The field marshall pressed in a small red button on the dashboard, and with a metallic hiss and another almighty lurch, the tank accelerated to an almost unfathomable speed. Slim, "We's going over the top! Through my small window, I saw the town below coming closer and closer to us, as we soared through the sky towards it. The only sound was of the air rushing past us, until, with an earth-shattering slam, our platoon landed in the town centre, clearing the town walls and smashing through a grand statue of Mussolini.

The Italians ran before us, screaming "Cazzo questo, hanno avuto serbatoi volare! Churchill leant down and shouted "Keep it planted Slimmy, the banter express doesn't stop 'til we hit Rome, yeah? Admiral Arthur was to be dispatched with the Banterfleet to cover the Italian coast and stop a possible French intervention, while our sub-surface fleet would cover the shipping lanes and protect the vital lager shipments.

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After hours of progress, we pulled in to an Italian service station for fuel. Almost a hundred miles into the mainland, we had met little resistance. It seemed our gigantic Sibo's Mum model tanks either scared off, or drove straight through any defences the Italians could muster. Panda Pop in hand and leaning against the tank, Churchill gathered the cabinet. They's dropping all bombs on Westminister and scaring the foreign office and this. Simon, his right hand man, "Slimmy's commanding the lads down here, so we'd need like, somebody else to do all motivating and shouting and this.

He gives me the heeby jeebies, isn't it. The Field Marshall's face went white. A shadowed figure stepped from behind the tank, into the light of day. Most of us took at least one step back. Mr Slim visibly cowered. But about him, was an aura of terror.

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He exuded threat, murder carved into every dark recess of his features. I had only ever met him once before, during a mock-combat training exercise on Bermuda. Half of his opponents, an entire batallion of Canadian mountain troops, had surrendered on the spot. The other half had simply fainted at the sight of him.

Field marshall Harold moved wordlessly towards Field Marshall Slim. He looked over at Mr. Slim's France Plan, sellotaped to the side of the tank, and glared at it. Slim, "it's a work in pro-" The plan had peeled off the side of the tank under the intense gaze of Harold, and fallen to the floor. Slim took another step back. There was a moment of silence. Our terrifying guest nodded, turned, and with the same look of cold fury, walked away into the forest. We heard the crash of several falling trees, fading into the distance as he went.

A shudder went around our group. Simon, "I's glad I's not a French right now. The mood lifted somewhat when Lord Chatfield, having missed the whole grisly scene, returned from the service station with an armful of Happy Meals, and some most interesting news. He explained as we all dug in to our dinners. He had the Italian garrison in for Egg Mc Muffins this morning, and they were being sent to Africa for some reason.

Apr 29, Messages: Hahahhaha, Alexander as a fearsome commander Still loving this AAR, it's truly one of a kind. Marshall , Jul 14, October 5th, The sun rose over another Italian petrol station. Strange Italian birds chirped on the phone lines above as I was passed my morning stack of paperwork by a cabinet aide. I had taken to dealing with my office work sat on the flat back of the tank whenever we stopped for fuel. I did not like to admit the reason - it had emerged that while careening over cliffs was a lot of fun, it had disasterous consequences on one's handwriting if trying to pen a letter on the move.

As I undid the string binding my morningly stack of forms and reports, I caught sight of Field Marhsal Harold's new plan for the French front. I pulled it from the stack and examined it. He seemed to favour the 'direct' approach so often spurned by our more inventive Mr. Lord Chatfield, chief of the navy, peered over my shoulder, a bowl of cornflakes in one hand, his morning paper in the other.

I turned around to meet his gaze, and found it to be one of deep confusion. Even hairy scary Harold isn't that fast, isn't it. We stared in awe. Churchill took it from him, a look of utmost disbelief still etched into his features. Fishing a monocle from between the curly-wurlys in his breast pocket, he began to read out loud. Yesterday, at around 4pm, British forces entered an undefended Paris. Some sources theorize that the entire French army was engaged with the Spanish to the south, while others have speculated that the subsequent surrendeur was done more out of force of habit than anything else.

This wild speculation was not good enough for THIS reporter however, and reports from troops on the ground indicate the entire French force ran away to hide in a forest when they caught sight of the British Field Marshall. This man, known only to the men in hushed tones as "Harold", allegedly walked directly into the Palais Bourbon as its occupants jumped from the windows, sat down in the President's chair, and refused to move until news of full capitulation reached him. Upon recieving this, he made what has been described to me as "a terrible rumbling sound", before walking through the palace wall, and departing in the general direction of Rome.

The Prime Minister folded the paper, paused, and gave a small shudder.

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It rapidly spread around our group. Simon, now perched on the barrel of the tank. He pulled his bowler hat down slightly, stood up and straightened his back. It reverberated beneath us. Slim emerged into the sunlight. You can't takes my Monster isn't it. What's I supposed to put on my Coco Pops, eh? Forget petrol, issue a general order to all tank crews. From there, aides, tank operators and even the Prime Minister began ferrying it to the machines in our convoy, filling the tanks' tanks with this new, potent fuel.

After ten minutes, we were strapped back in, and ready to go. Slim cautiously pushed the starter button, and the tank, with a sound like a mountain collapsing, thundered into life. We's going to warp speed, yeah? We were thrown back so far into our seats, that not a single man could reach the controls. Our steel behemoth charged forward, quite without our input, until, with an almighty smash, we came to a stop.

Dazed, I opened the hatch and peered out.



It seemed we had arrived. Nov 16, Messages: Next step, seizing banta capitals of Zante, Napa, and Malia. Plank of Wood , Jul 20, It's actually a bit of a weird game - I've wanted to do this AAR for nearly two years, but decided I'd wait until HOI4 rather than trying it with 3, seeing as it looked so much more moddable. I'm usually not very good at HOI3 on the best of days, so assumed a new game, with zero knowledge of said game, would be a massive challenge. Accordingly, I gave myself a bit of a buff by messing about with some files, and bumping myself up to tier 4 carriers from the off so I could effectively use the same Banter Boat without it going all obsolete by ' To get the carrier to start with, and not having the courage to mess about with OOBs, I used the instant build cheat - and assuming it was for human players only, left it on.

You can sort of see where this is going. By mid, my game was basically a stuttering pile of melting PC, as the AI spammed every unit it possibly could. That's why Denmark mysteriously had a navy of destroyers when I invaded them, which was the first sign something had gone a bit wrong. Caught me off guard enough to nearly sink the Banter Boat which is supposed to be virtually indestructible a year in to the AAR.

The only way I could sort the performance issues was to use the 'delall' command, literally deleting all units for the countries that had gone the most bat-shit with their build queues, so a lot of the big European powers and I think the US and China basically had a hard reset of their units in ' The reason Europe's been a bit of a cakewalk, I think, is because they haven't really had time to rebuild. Italy and France had about 70 divisions each by the time I invaded them, and again, I think the reason they steamrollered Germany so easily was because they were able to outproduce it before the AI had a chance to rebuild.

The Italian-French alliance also ended up at war with the Soviets at some stage possibly through Spain? I happened to invade at the perfect time, when almost every enemy was weak from their own conflicts, and my 'ally' was a fresh-faced Comintern. That France fell so quickly was a surprise though.

I didn't take into account the fact that the Spains had been technically at war production levels for ages, but only able to stockpile a ton of units because they couldn't fight each other past my stupid roads. As soon as they were both suddenly at war with France, they really tore into it, eating a good portion of undefended victory points while the remaining French force not eaten by Germans or Russians fought me in Benelux.

Once I knocked over Paris fairly easy with a quick armoured spearhead , the whole country collapsed, and their troops seemed to despawn too, instantly halving the numbers I was fighting. This seemed to leave a lot of holes in the Italian lines too, and when I'd given myself Churchill and Tortoise tanks purely to make a stupid joke about a character in the story's Mum, encirclements down the length of Italy were far easier than I was expecting. That, and having every country on earth flock to the allies was a bit of a surprise, but seriously helped out.

The volunteers and more importantly their planes stopped me from being wiped out before breaking out of Holland, but made things a bit trivial later on. It's sort of balancing out now. I've played the game into the future a bit, and a combination of my lack of airforce due to the airforce map mode slowing my PC to a crawl, still not being very good at the game, and the AI having had time to rebuild seems to have brought the challenge back up.

Things are now genuinely hairy, especially because I apparently missed out Japan when deleting spam units in Believe me, a Japan that can build 7 carriers a week for six months is a frightening thing. Turns out there was a reason France or Italy didn't really have any navies left. November 10th, "Everybody alright lads? The locals applauded us as we went by, much to our surprise. It seemed Mussolini was far lesss popular than we had been lead to believe.

We reached the sands, and churchill approached a young man at an ice-cream cart. As the beach filled with men paddling and eating ice-creams, the sky began to darken. An ominous chill swept the sand. Stormclouds rolled in overhead, and small children and their pets ran back to their parents. The sea seemed restless. The war cabinet and I turned to face the ocean, as with, a slow, deliberate motion, great waves broke against the previously calm shore. In the middle of it all, something began to emerge. My ice cream fell to the floor. With a stern, slow march, Harold rose from the waves, and strode on to the beach.

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He glared at each of us in turn, causing a most unpleasant sensation in the stomach. All cowered, except Churchill. He stepped forward purposefully, and looked the terrifying Field Marshall in the eye. We's like, totally got this. The Prime Minister took an uncertain step back.

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But then, quite suddenly, the Field Marshall drew his arm up into a sharp salute. He held it for a few seconds, before turning swiftly, and striding back into the ocean. Gradually, he disappeared beneath the waves, as calm once again descended on the beach. The clouds cleared to reveal a bright Mediterranean sun, and the gentle foaming of the clear waters resumed. Organised reistance had all but evaporated, and the further south our forces spread, the more relaxed the enemy seemed to be. By the time the army had reached Sicily, the opposing force consisted entirely of three friendly Italians in deckchairs, who invited some of our tank commanders for a drink and a game of volleyball.

Needless to say, the country had entirely capitulated, and with it, the French-Italian alliance finally crumbled. The rest of the day was spent surrounded by swarms of foreign office officials.

There were hundreds of deeply complex decisions to be made, the geo-political consequences of which would be felt throughout not just the continent, but the whole world for years to come. Such decisions were simply impossible to make on an empty stomach, so as evening approached, we made our way to Grassa Marco's Pizzeria - One of Mr. Sat around a large table, we waited for our order to arrive and began the monumental task of re-drawing the borders of Europe.

Simon, right hand man to the Prime Minister, "They's had like a load of war and this, but now they's done, yeah? And so's the Frenches and Italians. A tall, solidly-built man, with the unmistakable bushy moustache of both a socialist, and a Russian had come to join us. Simon gave him a questioning look. Our brave comrades in Spain have fought for years against our common foes. Our demands are this.