HonaloochieB

In The Ghetto - Elvis Presley

The Road To Birmingham - Mott The Hoople

"Hide them in a hiding place where no one ever goes The pantry is the best place for your arse plates It's a little secret, just the Robinsons' affair Most of all, you've got to hide them from the kids" They do indeed Brendan, but I've checked with them and the crockery comes with the above instructions, they are strictly for adult usage only. It's commendable of MR to take such a responsible attitude to the wee ones welfare.

Perhaps the Noodel bar next door might want to extend it's premises. Or is it a noodle bar? From the signage they can't make up their minds.

Is it the old ladies seat behind the driver?

Up On The Roof - The Drifters

Very even-handed Muley. Death May Be Your Santa Claus - Mott The Hoople.

Something To Believe In - Ian Hunter

You Rweally Got Me - Mott The Hoople

Where Do You All Come From? - Mott The Hoople

How Come? - Ronnie Lane's Slim Chance

lyndsey83 Wrote: ------------------------------------------------------- > paintballing...nice! Paintballing...not. He'll hate you forever. It's only something that works in a comedy series. 'Spaced' for instance. In real life it's red team - MONUMENTAL W@NKERS vs yellow team - APPALLING CUNTBOLLOXES. I'd give it a swerve, were I you.

littleEDfamily Wrote: ------------------------------------------------------- > A fair question - I feel he may have returned > without it as I heard someone return to the house > but without the tell tale sound of accompanied > baggage that had previously awoken me. By the time > I got up out of bed to curtain twitch, the door > had closed. > > An enigma wrapped up in mystery. And then marinaded in a riddle. enveloped in superstition (that's superstition, not the ordinary stition) and placed in a microwave of mysticism. For 6x6x6 minutes. As far as I'm concerned that'll teach someone a lesson. And they'll get taught up good and proper.

Actually now I think about it, BBW's solution is probably simpler and quicker. What with petrol being more likely to be readily available than crepe paper. And since botox you don't see crones around the way you used to, do you?

1.Take the cone and wrap it in priest-sock black crepe paper. 2. If you're not actually a crone yourself, obtain one. 3. Ensure crone is familiar with the work of the Brothers Grimm, Aleister Crowley and has some knowledge of rudimentary incantations. Evil ones of some sort. 4. Insert crone's head into cone. 5. Install crone onto neighbour's drive. 6. She should 'arthritis' her fingers, narrow her eyes and mutter vague incantations. All the while interspersed with cackling and raving. I'd let her conduct her own business here. Think 'improv'. 7. Sit back and watch while neighbour initially blusters at crone, then becomes fearful, then scared, then terrified, sells up and moves to Swindon. 8. Smile, sit back, pick up the phone and get a lifetime subscription to Witch magazine.

PeckhamRose Wrote: ------------------------------------------------------- > I think we should write a letter of complaint to > the Councillors and MPs and MEPs about the fact > that despite all their signs and more signs, and > governing by negativity, that we STILL know how to > enjoy ourselves and they should be voted out > accordingly. PR, I think we should enjoy ourselves to a point of Morris dancing stupidity (not that I'm condoning Morris dancing, although not that there's anything wrong with Morris dancing, necessarily. Most of the time. In context. Out of sight. Mine, mainly.) While simultaneously ignoring the the creators of signs we don't like to death. If death don't learn 'em, I don't know what will. And of course if they're Buddhists make a better job of it next time 'round. But of course if they're bastards they'll learn nowt. But you can't expect anything else from bastards, can you?

A crossbow. All men. All Ages. Always works.

ontheedge Wrote: ------------------------------------------------------- > Keef Wrote: > -------------------------------------------------- > ----- > > He might just be going on his holidays! > > > > Boring as it may be, that was my first thought. > > My thoughts exactly 6am flight from Stanstead Ryan > Scare Oh stop it Keef and OTT, where's the tabloid-style hysteria in an airport trip? What was he doing not being in a cab, if he was on the way to a supposed airport? Walking down the middle of the road? In broad night time? Making himself, oh so heard? Was he heading towards the estate on Denmark Hill? We all know there's something rotten there. He appears to be a wrong 'un LEDF, on his return question him closely about the matter, weigh and analyse the evidence objectively and then get the EDF posse/vigilante/mob round to his gaffe to run him out of town on a rail. It's the only language he'll understand.

I know what you mean PR, I've had a few myself today. I'm currently singing along to Roxy Music's 'In Every Dream Home A Heartache'. I apologise to my neighbours, outside of my own head it's not a pretty sound. I'm also sorry in advance for my version of Bob Dylan's 'Positively Fourth Street'. It'll be in about five minutes or so.

Baby Baby - The Vibrators

Hush - Deep Purple

There's A Kind Of Hush - Herman's Hermits

It's Over - Roy Orbison

Kindness Can Be Cruel - Mary Fahl.

Don't Be Cruel - Elvis Presley You throw 'em I'll catch 'em Muley.