Editing Boris the Titan (section)

== Writefaggotry == 

<B>Grot-mek of da groteptus Mekanikus;</B>  

Climbing down to the foundry level in Boris, Finkle had his new assignment. 
Amongst the swaying furnaces and sliding piles of scrap an important looking grot was shouting at the team pouring shell casings 
"NO, NOT LIKE DAT! POUR IT QUICKA, OI ... OI UGLY, YEA YOU, YOU WIV DA FACE WAT YOU DOIN?"

Finkle edged nervily closer to the head grot and offered him a data-slate, 
he snatched the metal plate from his hands and sniffed as he squinted at the runes drawn in grease paint.
"Yow have been assigned to da Bloomery by da wisdom of da council of finkin fings, long may de guide us. 
In dis Gork'z Bloomery wez make iron and iron accessories. Da work is 'ard un ugly butz we dois it betta dan eny over of da ova free blast furnacez in Boris, 
Yea seems loik this is yor furst day on da job. Mi namez Senior-grot-mek Thud da first  or to you, Forge Masta. 
Ya' got a lot ta lern boy, but we'll look afta ye' coz ya find us fair and hard workin lot here and you'z turn arund in 45 years find yourself a supervisor.
Coz I fink yus a kleva boi you's go far 'ere. 
Keep ya nose clean an yors mouf shut and we's guna have no problems." 
He smiled and offered a blackened hand.
Finkle met his grip and looked him in the eye and then smiled.
"So, er boss.  Whut yu wantin me doin now?" Finkle rung his hands nervously together,

"Well as its yor first day I fink you need to make the tea for da lads,"smirked Thud.
"Firs you's find da big pot, den ya grab ya squig, den boil it. den ya ring da big bell and da ladz cum an get da tea, Simples."
Thud pointed him in the direction of a grubby kitchen annex listing against a bulkhead in the opposite corner of the foundry.
Looking returned to shouting at his work gang, Finkle scratched his head and got on about his new found responsibility.  
After much fighting with the squig he found bouncing round the corridors, 

finally subduing it with a large spanner and dragging it back to the kitchen he looked around for the pot he was supposed to use, 
after a good hour he still couldn't find it so he scraped with an old can of GROTOLA a mega-bolta shell clean and filled it with grey-brown water that spurted out of a pipe marked "WARTA" some time later he dropped the squig in and waited for it to come up to the boil.
A large, scarred and greasy grot came to see what he was doing "So you da new tea grot huh?-  

-Dun' worry yus self about Thu, hes a good hart but little distracted he likes his tea wiv a dash of mota oil and sturred wiv a rag, like dis."
He motioned Finkle to cupboard above a hole in the floor, "You wanna use da' oil in da' yella  tin, yea dat one"  he grinned.
Finkle was quite pleased with himself by the time he had finished, the tea had gone a pleasing sickly green-purple.  
He raised a massive hammer and stuck it with all of his might and to his delight.
The work-grots were slowly starting to assemble around the pot dressed in home-made lead lined aprons and welding masks staring at him, 
clutching assorted tin mugs, cups and mortar casings."Wher' ma tea?" demanded a particularly dim looking grot. And then he realised what he had to do,
Finkle smiled his toothiest smile and started pouring the tea into their cups with a ladle he had bashed out of a bucket. 
After all one-hundred, odd coal shovelers, porters, cleaners, rakers,  had been served and the pot was empty he felt quite pleased with himself.  
First day, first job well done and no muck ups.
The foregrot from before came in and slapped him heartily on the back,
"Con'gratz neu boi, welcom to da foundry!"

He sniffed the pot and poked the squig, he smiled again.  Finkle didn't like this grots smile.
"Errr, were you find dis' squig mate?".
"Dunno jus bouncin' around da' corridor."
"Dun' you know a weird squig when you see one? Oh dear oh dear oh dear, what have 'ave ya done?"
Finkles heart sank as the impact of the words sank in, he felt a bit sick, had he messed up his first day of work, would they feed him to the orks?

"AHAHAHAHAHAHA, Boss is gunna have a good laff' at dis, I wunda wen da firs O' da boyz start growin horns an stuff.
But didn't yow notice he wuz takin da piss, you know like get me a left-clawed hamma? or a bucket of stripy paint? or a long weight? 
Dunt worry 'bout it, last time they asked him to taste da molten iron, so's we know if its cooked."
"Yer anyway that silly grot fell in, but we'z did make a lot of funny lookin metal from dat, so not a total rite off."