bigbadwolf

I bet your toilet smells like a Calcutta sewer on the morning after curry night Brum.

That was terrible bon3yard, try again.

Shit stirrer.

I don't think that's a good idea because if and when he finds out who dropped him in the soft and smelly the shit really would hit the fan.

We try our best reggie.

Hear that Daizie, just wash your hands of him.

Detective Inspector John Rebus.

Daizie, I'm afraid your concerns are only the tip of a very entrenched Iceberg. Yes, this is what happens I'm afraid.

???? Wrote: ------------------------------------------------------- > How long have you and BBW been dating? Oh well thats just charming Quids, me and Daizie haven't even laid eyes on each other let alone clean up after each other. However, I can promise you that if Daizie had stumbled across the rectal melt down I subjected forest hill to last night her hair would've fallen out. God, it shot out like flock of sparrows and I had to sand blast the bowl in the morning!

Couldn't help yourself could you Brendan.

Daleks.

I went along to this one, not many people but what are you gonna do eh. I had a good time to boot. Georgia goes out of her way to organize these events so I think that some of you should be a little bit more grateful instead of nit picking at her efforts!

That's all well and good Keef, but Mojitos?

Mojitos?

Good thread MM! Surprise, surprise, guess who MM started with? That's right, a swash buckler. Anyway. George Macdonald Fraser's hero/coward Flashman. Phileas Fogg. Sherlock Holmes Becky Sharpe form Vanity Fair.

Jeremy Wrote: > passing GCSEs, Sorry Jeremy I know you're trying to be serious but that was funny, sorry.

Tony, I respect your views but can we please mug off all this 'down the dog track' rhubarb. It's only Catford dogs not some kind of Balkans Arms Bazaar.

I'm with Taper on this since John Whynniard was one of the gunpowder plotters seeking to blow up the Houses of Parliament.

Thank you Ted, how chinless of me.

Ha ha!!!

Give yourself a pat on the back for beating everyone else to it Ted.

I'm sorry to drag this old thread up but I saw something last night that did make me very angry. On friday at about 6:30-7:00pm there was a ripple of anger and despair that echoed across the capital. Not enough to bring down an aircraft but enough for the gaze of strangers to meet momentarily and for a couple of cars to bump into each other. I shall start at the beginning. Now I, amongst a great deal of Londoners and commuters alike, buy the evening standard and on a Friday you are allowed the added treat of E.S magazine. Now E.S magazine for those that don't know is a light but enjoyable journey into high society, a lighter version of the Sunday times glossies. I didn't read it until yesterday afternoon/evening but this copy was unique in that the entire content was dedicated to diamonds. Now I'm not really interested in expensive stones as amongst other things I simoly can't afford them but it was an interesting read non the less. They explored the murky world of diamond dealers and who moves and who shakes. How the stones are a form of portable wealth and how the cut stones are graded regarding their worth in carats. I was genuinely enjoying the read and glad I'd made the effort to stick with it. Until I arrived at page 63. Peaches Geldof has been given column space to dedicate her worthless opinion as an agony aunt. My euphoria of sparkling 200 carat stones was brought crashing down as soon as I laid eyes upon, wait for it, 'Peaches teaches'. Young miss Geldof, and I put enormous emphasis on young (20), offers her advice on long distance relationships and she was married for a week. She also advises a woman who's being subject to a bully at a top flight legal outfit. The cherry on the cake of cold sick was offering advice on how a now redundant city banker should go about motivating himself and start looking for work. Her column is also accompanied by a very 'bo-ho' picture. I saw recently a programme where her and her little chums were prancing about some chic market stall and one of her entourage squawks "that necklass would look so good on you P". Do you know what I think would look good on 'P'? A pack of hungry Dobermans!!!

I may not be an old fogie Tony but I agree that the standard of advertising is about as interesting as reading a bank statement. Watching the "I want to do a poo at Paul's house" makes me want to stick splinters in my eyes.

Dear Gillian Yes I confess I did have a peak inside. I consulted Rupert who was equally curious as to what the package contained and with all this jihadi business these days one can't be to careful. At first I was a little puzzled as to what the contraption was but as soon as I saw the tag line 'satisfies all womanly sensitivities' it was perfectly obvious. I was actually rather relieved as Prunella and Ptolemy were coming round for tea and radio 4 and I had neglected to prepare anything to eat. Well my womanly sensitivities were instantly aroused so I put you electric cake mixer to immediate use. I'm glad to say that the whole thing was a splendid success. Pru was simply blushing with pleasure as thick cream dripped from her portion onto her chin and Ptolemy, well, lets just say it took his breath away. I didn't go horse riding this weekend. Far too busy and I was very puzzled concerning your reference to a racy tattoo.

Keef, your last post reeks of the stuff. Oh and don't lie to us either because we all know you bought a quarter off Jah this afternoon.