[QUOTE][QUOTENAME]Lisser wrote: [/QUOTENAME]Anyway, I am not in the category of people on here that don't give a flying fuck about anyone on here. [/QUOTE]
Me either.
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Posts in chronological order
Jussssssst like high school.
Oh no, he di'nt!
I don't know how to spell that. ANYONE UP FOR CAPSICUM FIGHTS?
Oh no, he di'nt!
I don't know how to spell that. ANYONE UP FOR CAPSICUM FIGHTS?
[QUOTE][QUOTENAME]iGSM wrote: [/QUOTENAME]Jussssssst like high school.
Oh no, he di'nt!
I don't know how to spell that. ANYONE UP FOR CAPSICUM FIGHTS?[/QUOTE]
NO!!!!
Oh no, he di'nt!
I don't know how to spell that. ANYONE UP FOR CAPSICUM FIGHTS?[/QUOTE]
NO!!!!
[QUOTE][QUOTENAME]Lester Burnham wrote: [/QUOTENAME][QUOTE][QUOTENAME]iGSM wrote: [/QUOTENAME]Jussssssst like high school.
Oh no, he di'nt!
I don't know how to spell that. ANYONE UP FOR CAPSICUM FIGHTS?[/QUOTE]
NO!!!![/QUOTE]
well maybe
Oh no, he di'nt!
I don't know how to spell that. ANYONE UP FOR CAPSICUM FIGHTS?[/QUOTE]
NO!!!![/QUOTE]
well maybe
You've become old and grouchy, y'know.
The older generation are leading this country to galloping ruin.
The older generation are leading this country to galloping ruin.
He's very clean.
Oh...aye...he's very clean.
[QUOTE][QUOTENAME]iGSM wrote: [/QUOTENAME]Oh...aye...he's very clean.[/QUOTE]
Who's that little old man?
Who's that little old man?
[QUOTE][QUOTENAME]Zebonka12 wrote: [/QUOTENAME]He's very clean.[/QUOTE]
I am, y'know.
I am, y'know.
Oh, I thought you all were doing A Hard Days' Night.
"Who's that little old man?"
"That's Paul's grandfather."
"I thought you lived with your grandfather."
"No, that's me other grandfather."
"He's very clean."
Or something like that. :PP
"Who's that little old man?"
"That's Paul's grandfather."
"I thought you lived with your grandfather."
"No, that's me other grandfather."
"He's very clean."
Or something like that. :PP
NOTHING LIKE IT! DETENTION!
John: Eh ... pardon me for asking but who's that little old man
Paul: What little old man?
John: That little old man
Paul: Oh, that one. That's me Grandfather.
George: That's not your Grandfather.
Paul: It is y'know.
John: But your Grandfather lives in your house. I've seen him.
Paul: Oh, that's me other Grandfather, but this one's me Grandfather and all.
John: How d'you reckon that one out?
Paul: Well ... everyone's entitled to two, aren't they, and this is me other one.
ETC.
I love that movie. It's me first number one.
John: Eh ... pardon me for asking but who's that little old man
Paul: What little old man?
John: That little old man
Paul: Oh, that one. That's me Grandfather.
George: That's not your Grandfather.
Paul: It is y'know.
John: But your Grandfather lives in your house. I've seen him.
Paul: Oh, that's me other Grandfather, but this one's me Grandfather and all.
John: How d'you reckon that one out?
Paul: Well ... everyone's entitled to two, aren't they, and this is me other one.
ETC.
I love that movie. It's me first number one.
-fatty- wrote: On the outskirts of Queenzone, set among five and a half acres of well kept gardens, stands the Queenzone retirement home. At around 5.00am each morning Richard Orchard does his rounds and checks to see if any of the residents have copped their wack during the night. Those that have are discreetly removed and taken to QOL before breakfast is served in the Gordondoburstingfoam memorial dining room.
While the residents are waking up to the smell of the coffee, old Ted is sitting in his chair by the staring window. He's still screaming after a night of bad dreams in which rastafarian Queen fans have been ransacking his shop.
One of the care assistants makes the mistake of asking which side of his toast old Chad would like buttered and he launches into a four hour tirade, accusing the care assistant of being a homophobe. At around 8.00am, the postman arrives with nine sacks of hate mail for old Dark Myuutwo. Despite the fact that there are eleven letterbombs and 24 turds in shoeboxes, Old Dark Myuutwo seems blissfully unaware of any bad feeling towards him.
At 9.00am the Day room doors are unlocked and the residents are free to listen to their Queen records (Vinyl, might I add), watch television or play games. Old fatty and old Bob The Shrek gather around the chess board to continue their game which has now been going on for the past 18 months. This is mailnly because neither of the sad old bastards actually knows how to play chess. Old fatty thinks he's playing Kerplunk while old Bob The Shrek keeps shouting BUCKAROO!
All of a sudden there's a loud bang from a broom cupboard and out of the smoke appears old Deaconjohn. His illegal still has exploded. There'll be no potcheen for the next couple of weeks and Deaconjohn has just shat the pair of underpants his great grandson sent him for Christmas.
Old Taylormayed is sitting in front of the television watching the latest series of Doctor Who and moaning about how it's more like a fucking soap opera than a science fiction serial these days.
After lunch (soup with jelly and ice cream for afters)that nice chap Greg Brooks from Queen productions comes to pay a visit. He has a suitcase full of rare Queen recordings he wants to show the residents. He doesn't open the case of course. He just shows it to the residents and fucks off again.
After dinner (steamed vegetables followed by semolina pudding) the residents fie through to the visiting room in the vain hope that someone will be coming to see them. Old Pieter and old Erin stare out of the window looking for one of their nine children or 33 grandchildren for a full hour to no avail.
At 8.00pm the residents are getting ready for bed and Richard and Barb are wheeling the medication trolley down the corridors. By 8.30pm all is quiet in the Queenzone retirement home exept for the screaming in room 101.
"THE NIGGERS ARE COMING, THE NIGGERS ARE COMING. WE ALL NEED TO WAKE UP AND SMELL THE COFFEE.!"
fatty.
Actually, I have rather enjoyed the vast majority of the new Doctor Who, and am sure I will continue to do so.
I miss you fatty. This was a fun fandom to be in, back in the day!
While the residents are waking up to the smell of the coffee, old Ted is sitting in his chair by the staring window. He's still screaming after a night of bad dreams in which rastafarian Queen fans have been ransacking his shop.
One of the care assistants makes the mistake of asking which side of his toast old Chad would like buttered and he launches into a four hour tirade, accusing the care assistant of being a homophobe. At around 8.00am, the postman arrives with nine sacks of hate mail for old Dark Myuutwo. Despite the fact that there are eleven letterbombs and 24 turds in shoeboxes, Old Dark Myuutwo seems blissfully unaware of any bad feeling towards him.
At 9.00am the Day room doors are unlocked and the residents are free to listen to their Queen records (Vinyl, might I add), watch television or play games. Old fatty and old Bob The Shrek gather around the chess board to continue their game which has now been going on for the past 18 months. This is mailnly because neither of the sad old bastards actually knows how to play chess. Old fatty thinks he's playing Kerplunk while old Bob The Shrek keeps shouting BUCKAROO!
All of a sudden there's a loud bang from a broom cupboard and out of the smoke appears old Deaconjohn. His illegal still has exploded. There'll be no potcheen for the next couple of weeks and Deaconjohn has just shat the pair of underpants his great grandson sent him for Christmas.
Old Taylormayed is sitting in front of the television watching the latest series of Doctor Who and moaning about how it's more like a fucking soap opera than a science fiction serial these days.
After lunch (soup with jelly and ice cream for afters)that nice chap Greg Brooks from Queen productions comes to pay a visit. He has a suitcase full of rare Queen recordings he wants to show the residents. He doesn't open the case of course. He just shows it to the residents and fucks off again.
After dinner (steamed vegetables followed by semolina pudding) the residents fie through to the visiting room in the vain hope that someone will be coming to see them. Old Pieter and old Erin stare out of the window looking for one of their nine children or 33 grandchildren for a full hour to no avail.
At 8.00pm the residents are getting ready for bed and Richard and Barb are wheeling the medication trolley down the corridors. By 8.30pm all is quiet in the Queenzone retirement home exept for the screaming in room 101.
"THE NIGGERS ARE COMING, THE NIGGERS ARE COMING. WE ALL NEED TO WAKE UP AND SMELL THE COFFEE.!"
fatty.
Actually, I have rather enjoyed the vast majority of the new Doctor Who, and am sure I will continue to do so.
I miss you fatty. This was a fun fandom to be in, back in the day!