Monkeys Fist

I think the previous skin bag would tie with him tbh, just this particular weasel manage to find a rich wife.

He doesn’t care. Couldn’t give a fuck about her or her mother because there’s no profit in it for him. I don’t mean political profit or popularity profit or whatever, I mean pure, avaricious, monetary profit. Nothing else matters to these cunts.

Last car I bought on PCP turned out to be skip when I sobered up.

https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/entertainment-arts-68209738 This is a decent story about Peter Butterworth from the Carry On movies. It’s recently come to light he was in MI9 and in charge of coding during the Great Escape and the Wooden Horse escape from Stalag Luft III. The bit that made me laugh was “When the story was adapted in 1950 for the big screen, he auditioned for a role but was turned down for not looking sufficiently like a prisoner.”

Did he try to fuck it and say he was checking if it was injured?

kinky bitch!

They’re Geese mate, like a large duck.

Gerrin’ Labour.

No, but his Dobly soundbar and LG tv were in the back yard with the Garden Sofa. He’s probably melted in to the mattress by now.

He did actually manage to Gold Medal the mission a few days later. He was a very charming psychopath from Brum, the following year he ended up running a sex shop in Amsterdam. The tradition out there was to rechristen people with a nickname, there’s folks I knew for 2-3 years without actually knowing their real names. I don’t think Stavros was too pleased with hers, like, but traditions are traditions.

These puns are giving me a mYgraine. I’m Gawain for lie down on my Bed(evere).

One year when I was working abroad, a new kitchen assistant turned up midway through the season, and one of the lads won the “Welcome to France Scuttle” honours. They went off to his tent to do the deed, and within 5 minutes we hear “ Bastard!!! Fuck off, go on get out!!” Lad comes back, grinning like a Cheshire Cat. We ask wtf? ” Ah got her strides off, took one look and asked if it came with garlic or chilli sauce!” Poor lass

What’s going on with Kate’s minge though?

“ What we gonna call the next Statham turdfest?” ” Dunno, the Beekeeper?” ” I LOVE IT. What’s the story?” ” Someone… kills his bees?” ” Roll ‘em!”

Bah! Tomayto tomato

And tidy your bloody room!

I worked at an Italian restaurant run by two Sicilian lads, Mario and Franco, who were straight out of central casting for stereotypical Italian men. Mario was smoother than a babby’s arse and went through the waitresses like Covid in a care home. Franco looked like a 6ft enforcer who’d been sledgehammered down to 5’6”, barely spoke English but was fucking hilarious- his entire vocabulary was Italian swearing, accompanied, unironically, with the gesture. His favourite was “vafanculo” but he’d add “stringi dente” which I gather meant “stiff teeth”. I watched Italy go out on pelanties to France in 98 with him, and the whole shoot out was just a string of Italian obscenities, until Di Biagio’s miss when he just went fucking radge.