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International Alcohol Championships


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Now on BBC One, a rather peculiar tournament...

*Big scary voice* This year in the City of Homopolis within the province of James Mayland, Top Gear, the First Annual International Alcohol Championships will be held. And here is your host... MR. BLOBBY!



"Many nations claim to possess the world's greatest alcoholic beverages BUT, there is yet to be crowned an official Champion. This tournament aims to put an end to that!

Here is some guy to tell you how it's going to work!"


- 48-hours to submit your nation.

- After that time Round 1 shall begin, and 1/4 of participants will be randomly eliminated.

- Round 2 shall commence, and each nation still in the running will submit a paragraph describing the taste of their beer, and shall be awarded up to five points for that.

- Round 3 shall commence, and each nation still in the running will submit any information that would give factual evidence to explain any geographical, environmental, or industrial advantages in production of their alcohol. For example, the ability to grow better quality grapes, and explaining why/how. They shall be awarded up to three points for this.

- After that time Round 4 shall begin, and half of the bottom half of participants point-wise will be randomly eliminated.

- Round 5 shall commence, in which every nation shall randomly receive 0-2 points. (Coin flip to decide)

- The winner shall then be decided, based on the amount of points they possess. Ties will be broken through a coin-flip.

-Top Gear shall not be permitted to enter and I shall be the referee and perform all such eliminations.

"Nations wishing to enter may do so simply by stating the name of their nation and declaring the desire to contend.

Good luck to all!"

Now on BBC One, the side boob hour...

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Finishing another shot of his Emperor's Reserve Polizian vodka, God-Emperor KY PAX closed his eyes, with a bemused look creeping across his face. That... clown thing, what horrible experiments was he subjected to? He supposed it didn't matter, and turned back to his secret war plans

embroidery contest entry

Top Gear collector's box


But he could not ignore it no more, the world had to know of what it could never have- Vodka, fit for a God-Emperor. Reasoning that it was more than okay for a God to have an ego, even if he is not supposed to have emotions, entered His personal vodka into Top Gear's tournament.

Picking up the phone, and dialling the wrong number several times (It had been a long afternoon involving almost a whole bottle of transparent Polizian Potato juice, and in his current state area codes were simply not part of the act of calling the organisers)

"Yeah, it's the God-Emperor of Poliz; I've got some stuff that'll turn your kidneys to yellow marsmallows, and make you feel like a cloud is floating on you. I mean your cloud is floating.... uh... We'll enter your little spirit sport." He slurred.

It remains to be seen if he wasn't calling the Hanseatic Commonwealth suicide hotline by mistake.

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Upon hearing this competition the Emperor of Raochin couldn't resist breaking out his book of alcoholism. Flipped to page 42, and got out his recipe for the best drink he'd ever tasted. It was only made once and he still has half a barrel of it in his cellar. It had to be brewed on the moon as its impossible to make it on earth.

The drinks name was a little peculiar, it was called the Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster and it was given to him by a fairly odd man at a party who said he owned the fastest ship in the galaxy and that technically earth wasn't supposed to exist anymore. This man of course had already been drunk out of his mind but his recipe was quite reliable, and the fact that he had spent billions of dollars making it on the moon made it probably the most expensive drink ever made. Not to mention it took him a few years to find the earth equivalent of the ingredients it required to make the drink, but god was it good.

He called the number a few moments later.

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Aiden Rommel, Former Kashlinkovian Bundeskanzler and current Marskalken av väpnade styrkor of the Norman Nationalgardet was pleased as ever after hearing the announcement by Top Gear. As he sat within his new home in Normandy he had just finished downing 12 bottles of Norman Red Lager, with a 20% alcoholic proof. He sent this message to Top Gear, "Right now, i'm drunk off my $@! and I want to compete."

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