ELEPHANT COCKTAIL TABLE. ELEPHANT COCKTAIL

ELEPHANT COCKTAIL TABLE. CHERRY BUFFET TABLE.

Elephant Cocktail Table


elephant cocktail table
    cocktail table
  • coffee table: low table where magazines can be placed and coffee or cocktails are served
  • A long and low table normally positioned in front of a sofa, which provides a surface for serving. Find a coffee table.
  • These machines are smaller versions of the standard pinball machine, usually about the size of a cocktail table, from where they get their name. These machines have no backbox and the playfield top glass is unsloped and horizontal, allowing drinks to be placed on it.
    elephant
  • A size of paper, now standardized at 28 ? 23 inches (approximately 711 ? 584 mm)
  • five-toed pachyderm
  • A heavy plant-eating mammal with a prehensile trunk, long curved ivory tusks, and large ears, native to Africa and southern Asia. It is the largest living land animal
  • the symbol of the Republican Party; introduced in cartoons by Thomas Nast in 1874
  • Elephants are large land mammals in two genera of the family Elephantidae: Elephas and Loxodonta. Three species of elephant are living today: the African bush elephant, the African forest elephant and the Asian elephant (also known as the Indian elephant).
elephant cocktail table - Jaipur Elephant
Jaipur Elephant Festival Glass-Topped Cocktail Table
Jaipur Elephant Festival Glass-Topped Cocktail Table
Your home will reflect the exotic styling of Holi, the much-anticipated festival where Indian elephants, attired in embroidered velvet drapes and glittering tassels, lift their trunks as a symbol of good fortune to the coming year. Shown to full advantage beneath a 30"-long, 3/8"-thick glass top, our Design Toscano exclusive sculptural beast of kings is cast in quality designer resin to capture each detail, and then exquisitely hand-painted in royal hues. Our elephant statue lends an exotic sense of adventure to any well-appointed room. 30"Wx18"Dx18"H. 30 lbs.

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Ten Years in an Open Necked Shirt
Ten Years in an Open Necked Shirt
Lenny Siberia was the bastard offspring of Captain Africa (the lard mogul) and Tracy. The captain disappeared without Tracy who perished alone with her diamond collection, the victim of a mau-mau hit squad, leaving Lenny alone with the one thing money can't buy: poverty. He was discovered at one year old by a wayward nun; he had been living in the dumb waiter of the zambezi juice bar. Sister James (for it was she) lost no time in mailing the child, by first-class parcel post, to a friend in Brussels. Fortunately he was erroneously delivered to the Eros Luxury Club, a converted charabang in the bowels of Manchester's la quartiere latin. The proprietor, a swarthy ill-mannered character of Armenian origin, received the package with a bestial grunt. Taking a curved knife from a canteen of curved knives, he slashed it open. Lenny gazed into the face of this his first stranger and what he saw was pure malevolence. He ran down flattened streets patrolled by aimless amputees through a world of refugees, out of the cold war into the deep freeze, he ran out of money, he ran into trouble. He was adopted by Sheba and Rex, a pair of alsatian dogs who regarded the boy with an uneasy ambivalence. They lived in an Art Deco cocktail cabinet by the bicycle sheds of Salford Metropolitan Police Compound. They were devout Catholics. It was arranged for Lenny to attend the School of Our Lady of the Seven Robes of Gold by the Garden of Sorrows in the Vale of Tears which was run with teutonic efficiency by the little daughters of the sick under the iron rule of Mother Cyrene. Mother Cyrene was everything rancid to Lenny: her mouth a malignant slit in the murderous mask she called a face; her cheesy breath steaming up his spectacles; her eyes like mobile ball bearings - their colour left a mechanical taste in the mouth. Daily religious instruction furnished his vacant mind with tales of treachery, morbid betrayals, oceans pink with the blood of multitudes, saints looking to the sky their living bodies smashed by hammers before the alien idols of the heathen. Incense filled his nostrils with the fatal breath of ghosts, hermaphrodite choirs droned in his ears. Each student could elect to spend their free time in one of three ways: sporting activities, visiting the sick or in the service of the Knights of the Sacred Orchid. The latter seemed the least demanding, the most hygenic, and it also appealed to the lad's naive sense of chivalry. The Knights of the Sacred Orchid held their thrice-weekly routines in the spacious open-plan lounge of the sinister Raoul, who affected the manner of the proto-fascist with psychotic attention to detail. His navy blue hair sleeked with ancient grease, his meagre Don Amechie moustache waxed stiff like the legs of a dead fly. He went nowhere without the chums. The chums were namely Horace and Boris, the brothers Morris, a titanic duet each in possession of a powder-blue safari suit and arms of anthropoidal length. Their physical immensity fully emphasized the stiff angular grace of the nifty Raoul who now led the way into the lounge. The lounge was furnished by three rows of seven leatherette easy chairs faced by one formica table. The curtains were the colour of mustard embellished with the bleeding heart motif. The walls were hung with colourless daubs. The carpet was monotonous, its pattern gave the impression of small animal crapping at regular intervals. The whole scene was lit by a soundless colour TV and a row of six orange table lamps in which shifting globules of molten wax moved like specimens of rare snot. Enter Mother Cyrene, flanked by the chums and a hyper-reverent Raoul who wore the look of a man obsessed. She stood on the table and began. 'Even as I speak a filthy tide of bolshevism issues from the dives of tin pan alley in short the world is a subterranean playground for lounge lizards from every sphere of idleness and crime who their pockets a-jingle with Moscow money go unchecked about their evil business take china cathedrals ransacked churches turned into judo schools I have seen the finest laundries in the world converted into bordellos for the gratification of the lumpenproletariat what with the drink trade on its last legs and the land running fallow for the want of artificial manures I leave you with this thought...' Mantovani strings cascaded from the Queen Anne Dinatron stereo system. Everyone crossed themselves and left. The chums in their lilac Isetta bubble cars headed for the golden finger bowl where they were employed as part-time knuckle merchants. Upon his arrival at the compound, Lenny to his horror, found the cocktail cabinet in flames and his devoted guardians, Sheba and Rex, their heads split by faceless vigilantes, slaughtered in the rabies scare of '62. 'Christ! Where do I live?' thought Lenny in genuine desperation and the heavy traffic seemed to whisper 'Raoul, Raoul.' So for two weeks Lenny resided in Raoul's broom
"Nite Out With The Birds"
"Nite Out With The Birds"
Pink Lady’s Hen Night...... Come everyone join the Hen Night As the fun starts off at nine With lots of Dream Boy strippers And plenty of gallons of wine So dig out all your party clothes And we’ll go and have some fun Dancing, singing and partying Till the morning brings the sun I thought that we could start off At a little night club I know It’s called Pink Lady’s Palace And they put on quite a show We can have a few cocktails And share some pink champagne And by the time you’ve had a drink You’ll be really glad you came Barbie was in charge tonight She was looking after our Lynn But Lynn was Flirting with the DJ And Barbie was drunk on the gin Ms S you should have seen her She was ready with oil and cream To smear over the dream boys chest The night was going to be a scream As Lyn began to open the gifts Her face turned as red as beetroot There was laughter giggles and sniggering Because the gifts that she got were a hoot There were pink handcuffs and g string bikinis Nighties, teddies and see through gowns Things that zipped up to the cleavage And things that almost zipped down Well I’ve been told about the quiet ones But I never thought it was true But guess who was dancing on tables It was Cynthia and our Lady Blue Glata was chatting up this bloke She thought she was on her way Till Pamela whispered in her ear I think you’ll find that blokes gay Samantha Savannah and Alison Had all had too much to drink They were drinking Russian cocktails And seeing elephants so pink Pamela, Barbara and Lynda You should have seen them dance Doing the actions to Y.M.C.A And giving the young boys a glance The ladies were roaring at the strippers As the girls were ready with cream The liquor still pouring was going down well And the lads went a pale shade of green Just then Lynn noticed something familiar About all the Dream Boy men I think I’ve seen those legs before And that one looks quite a bit like Len Barbie said come to think of it That bottom looks similar to Joe's How the hell do you know that said Lynn? Have you seen him without his clothes? Girls come quick and look at this You’re sure to have a fright Those aren’t the dream boys after all There the lads from the C.P. Site Oh my goodness then shouted Cynthia Will you just take a look at that? I’d have expected that from young Dennis But look where Jerry’s hung his hat Then Lyn got the shock of her life when Craig showed her was lies beneath So she smothered his bare chest with oil Then took his thong off with her teeth The oohs and the ahhs came to a halt though When the bartender shouted time Now who's going to pay this drinks bill? Cos you’ve drunk 20 gallons of wine Barbie, as dutiful Maid of Honour Couldn't stand up as she was so trashed But she began to search for the money And handed the barman the cash The taxis were waiting, it was almost dawn When the girls got a boot out the door Then giggled and laughed at the blushing bride As Lyn slowly slid down to the floor The next day no one remembered the party The hangovers, they hung everywhere Pamela shrieked as she found a key and remembered though That Barbara was still handcuffed to a chair

elephant cocktail table
elephant cocktail table
Elephant s Majesty Glass-Topped Cocktail Table
African elephants, a mother and calf, are a creative synergy of form and function that celebrates one of nature's most majestic animals. These pachyderms are realistically sculpted, cast in designer resin and hand-painted in exquisite detail from wrinkled hide to faux ivory tusks. Our Design Toscano-exclusive elephant statue lends an exotic sense of adventure to any well-appointed room. An oval, pencil-edged glass top allows their timeless beauty to be admired from any angle. 30"Wx18"Dx18"H. 37 lbs.

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