RosieH

TheArtfulDogger Wrote: ------------------------------------------------------- > Dearest RosieH > > When you turned down my offer of 2 up 2 down > (front and back seats of the Austin Allegro) you > used to call me Artful, why change the habit now > (I do so hate being called by my last name don't > you Miss Hanibal) Well Artful, it's just that with your dodgy perm, if I call you Artful, I can't help but think of my other great love, Art Garfunkel (whose name you have so cruelly appropriated and conflated - and he offered me so much more - a 2nd hand winnebago in Wichita.) And it hurts just to think on it. So Dogger it is.

Meh, Steve, I have in my time been offered an apartment (sadly not a penthouse) - so not so very fantastic after all. I politely declined the offer: my principles would not allow otherwise, and Dogger (or are we to call you Artful?) I am inclined, to a degree, to agree with your supposition. Depends whether it's a case of allowing someone you care about to help you out when you need it (with the intention of continuing the relationship afterwards) or simply looking for someone to pay the bills in exchange for sex.

Ooh yes please - are you making?

Oh D_C, you ARE super. Germaine Gruyere is my new favourite joke ever (much pithier than the master of wit and sparkling repartee) I've got a massive mozzarella. No joke - I'm just really really excited. It's a British buffalo mozzarella and I'm having it for my tea. And thank you Woof - please don't throw yourself down the stairs - it's not your fault the joke was rubbish. I did ask...

???? Wrote: ------------------------------------------------------- > Monday in one to one; > > Me: "I think the best approach for this is ABC" > > Boss: "No I don't like that" > > Tuesday in team meeting > > Boss: "Right everyone, I've had a think about this > and the best aproach is ABC" Console yourself in your next meeting by remembering that while there's no I in team, there is a u in cunt (that would be him the cunt, not you the cunt)

What's the joke with the punchline about the Baby Cheeses? dc, your jokes are quite exceptional, and are making me very happy indeed. I may have fondue for dinner.

Yes LadyM, what everyone else said. Say your goodbyes and be thankful to have had this person in your life - you'll both feel better for it. I'm lucky to have few regrets in my life, but the two I have are about not saying goodbye to people I really cared about before it was too late. One was a suicide, and although I was shocked and hurt and angry at the time, in the years since, all that has faded and it has caused me pain not to have been there for my friend in hospital when he most needed his friends around him to say goodbye. There was a wonderful Julie Walters programme on TV last year - A Short Stay in Switzerland - that deals with one woman's trip to Dignitas. I'd highly recommend it - it's utterly heartbreaking but ultimately I think it might help you at what is an incredibly difficult time.

See, and I thought this was a thread about the Times Literary Supplement and got all excited for a minute

I'm not a dad Mick, nor a mother neither. But Friday night's alright for fighting

Ooh Narnia, no, you really didn't just do that. Oh no no no no no.

100% pear?

Coming home to open your paypacket and discovering that you've been paid an entirely unexpected bonus, which means you can afford to hotfoot it over to Buenos Aires to hang out with your mates who've been touring South America for 6 months, just before they come home. ONLY TO FIND that they're coming home the week you have the biggest work event of your life so you can't possibly take the time off until after they're back in London. Oh my fucking god.

Oh dear god - that directive could be squarely levelled at me (am going to sit in the corner in shame)

Ooh, or don't you have some kind of silver spaceman jacket? That's quite good too.

Jah Lush Wrote: ------------------------------------------------------- > Cider? Pah! Until it's recent rebranding (with > ice, smart bottle) it was only drunk by park bench > deadbeats, psycho derelicts, country yokel inbreds > and sheep shaggers. Mind you, that probably takes > up half the country. Ahem. Cider with Rosie anyone? S'my favourite and has been for quite some time - and none of this overmarketed fucking Magners shite where some marketing twatola watched Withnail after a spliff one night and thought "kaboom! - 2 gins, 2 ciders, ice in the cider - I've only freaking got it". You want a good pint of the hard stuff where if you leave it too long to settle, it looks like a gentleman has done something ungentlemanly in your drink. But to the OP - Quids, I'd like to agree, but it's really freaking strong these days - to be honest that's a tax on my not getting tired and emotional, or happy and, er, over-exuberant. All to the good.

Oh sweet mother of god...

bon3yard Wrote: ------------------------------------------------------- > What can I tell you? If this doesnt work I might > have to resort to stripping naked, sellotaping > fivers to various bits of my anatomy and parading > up and down Lordship Lane on a Saturday night > bellowing out Je taime at the top of my lungs. Forget fivers - take pies!

northlondoner, anyone who knows me will know that I have no problem with a beer gut - a man who doesn't like his food and drink is no man at all in my book

*Bob* Wrote: ------------------------------------------------------- > It's hard-wired into a man's brain that his own > inadequacies (face like a bucket of frogs, bald > spot, beer gut, bad breath etc) are no reason not > to expect the most delicious of females to come > running with just one lingering, beery, desperate > stare. Haha, what *Bob* said. I've said it before and I'll say it again, many of the men in ED are punching well above their weight. Perhaps you just get a better class of beer gut round here (organic micro-brewery beer gut..?)

Crying to The Smiths in your bedroom.

Learning that my gorgeous niece has been pretending to talk to me on the phone today after spending a lovely day together yesterday.

I am reunited with my coven, and my familiar purrs contentedly at my knee.

Zut alors, it is many years since I dreamed in French: I am envious and must partake of some of this cheese, toot sweet. Please to tell us its name. In the meantime, I have just discovered a bar of chocolate containing cheese pieces. I'm disproportionately excited about this (oh, and it's cousin, the bar of chocolate containing pork crackling)

Rows of stone cottages and the outline of Pendle Hill obscured by morning mist as I look out of the window.

Apparently, 1 in 5 people in the world are Chinese. And there are 5 people in my family, so it must be one of them. It's either my mum or my dad. Or my older brother Colin. Or my younger brother Ho-Cha-Chu. But I think it's Colin.