what the fcuk happened? you got a sting and flung yourself off the ladder? the wasp hardly stood at the bottom shaking the fecking think did he?
I was fairly sure when 1 of the lads said “there’s a cunt waving a gun at us out the window”…
The Cortina 1600E was some machine when booted to the floor. The border crossing controller fucker at the time was the spit of Neil Lennon. We had many’s the joust. He knew I was up to nefarious activities, I knew he was a cunt.
@farmerinthecity[/USER] or [USER=48]@thedancingbaby’s folks might remember the Mohill legend that was Gerry O’Malley. I’d be interested in TDB’s fathers views on the late O’Malley. There was a lot of money to be made back in those days, fags, butter (to Supermarkets) and the inevitable…booze…
Great, mad, lucky/unlucky (rare) hairy days…
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We used to carry a spray can full of lethal chemicals for such eventualities on our toolbelt. Between getting stung, holding onto a can of paint, a brush, a cigarette and reaching for the spray can to zap the little fucker, I somehow managed to lose my footing and fall off. I was more worried about the amount of paint in the can tbh, had to spend 10 mins cleaning that up. They don’t just sting once, they keep stinging, horrible little bastards. I had a fierce allergic reaction the first time I got stung, by September I barely realised I was being stung at all.
Went down to Inch (East Cork) with the body board there a few years ago, had only purchased it the week before to make use of the fact I had the sea 5 minutes from the front door, all the surfer fuckers were on the left of the beach so I said I’d head over to the right to stay out of the way, that’s where all the wash goes back out, I didn’t know it then, but I do now, 45 minutes I was trying to get back in out of it for. I was calving badly after about 20 minutes and had got in to the point where I could stand and got a lash of a wave and was brought back out again… thought I was done for. When I got back in, I fucked the body board away into the ditch and I haven’t even so much as gone for a paddle in the ocean since
The Minister for Dust and Cobwebs is away for the night with the children. I was left instructions to assemble the Christmas decorations with implicit orders to get a daycent tree. No problem says I, having picked out my preferred choice (in a neighbouring planting belonging to a German resident in Cologne whom I always refer to as Helmut).
At nightfall I toddled along, axe and bushman in hand - threaded my way through the wire fencing and felled my prey of choice. All was going the finest until I got her out onto the road and then the shit started.
I spy the lights of a fucking car coming - fucks the tree, axe and bushman across the hedging/scrub and walks along. The cunt stops for a natter before pissing off and I’m left retrieve my possessions. I found the tree and the bushman in the dark but I’ll have to revisit the scene tomorrow to locate the fucking axe.
Naturally the children rang to get a progress update…I told them the septic tank had overflowed and I was prioratising that issue. Apt I thought in the situation. I’m on the brandy for the nerves…
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Legend