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Instant cunt identifiers


Remmie
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Went past a house in Kensington before with every available window plastered with yellow and purple "I'm voting UKIP" posters.

 

I think they are living in the wrong area if they hate Johnny Foreigners.

Actually half of Kensington is probably now owned by rich foreigners !

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Actually half of Kensington is probably now owned by rich foreigners !

I think Dr Troy's Kenny is the one that is probably mostly owned by not-so-rich-but-still-cunts private landlords.  I know that houses round there wee getting snapped up, sight unseen, ten years ago by estate agents and speculators based in London and Ireland. I don't know whether those people still own them now.

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Know they'll have been included in here time and time again, but people drinking protein shakes.

 

EVERYONE ELSE IS DOING IT MUST MAKE SURE I'M SEEN TO BE DOING IT.

 

Well done fucknuts, you have all the shape of a sausage but you're chewing down some powder bollocks by the lockers.  My fucking hero.

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Just saw a snake we used to work with who reckoned he was a personal friend of David Bowie and often got a lend of his yacht, among other unsolicited shite.  Used to make sure everyone saw him wheeling a case into work every morning as he reckoned he was always on the move due to running an IT software company in Manchester, London, South of France, the UAE and, er, Bournemouth.  He was a Helpdesk bod with us.

 

Anyway, he was in the queue ahead of me at the chippy just now wearing a fedora at a rakish angle, with a gold diamante style feather in the band.

 

He looked like Boy George's afterbirth, the fucking helmet.

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Just saw a snake we used to work with who reckoned he was a personal friend of David Bowie and often got a lend of his yacht, among other unsolicited shite. Used to make sure everyone saw him wheeling a case into work every morning as he reckoned he was always on the move due to running an IT software company in Manchester, London, South of France, the UAE and, er, Bournemouth. He was a Helpdesk bod with us.

 

Anyway, he was in the queue ahead of me at the chippy just now wearing a fedora at a rakish ankle, with a gold diamante style feather in the band.

 

He looked like Boy George's afterbirth, the fucking helmet.

Fantasists mate. Used to work with one myself. Cant be arsed typing it all out on my phone but I will later. He got caught out splendidly.

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Anyone seen going into or coming out of some of the places on this list is a cunt.

 

http://www.buzzfeed.com/mikepw/liverpool-bars#.pl01w9kAN

 

Some decent boozers here, fair enough.  Then there's the kind of place described as

This place is one of the city’s up-and-coming drinking spots. Suave, atmospheric, and very, very cool, it’s hidden away on Berry Street. There’s no sign or noticeable entrance; just a door to knock on and, if there’s room, they’ll let you in.

 

or

 

A small, unadvertised bar that deals exclusively in absinthe cocktails

 

or

 

a basement, retro-vibed bar. The only problem you’ll have is finding it. 

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Just saw a snake we used to work with who reckoned he was a personal friend of David Bowie and often got a lend of his yacht, among other unsolicited shite.  Used to make sure everyone saw him wheeling a case into work every morning as he reckoned he was always on the move due to running an IT software company in Manchester, London, South of France, the UAE and, er, Bournemouth.  He was a Helpdesk bod with us.

 

Anyway, he was in the queue ahead of me at the chippy just now wearing a fedora at a rakish ankle, with a gold diamante style feather in the band.

 

He looked like Boy George's afterbirth, the fucking helmet.

Bumped into some Tunisian fella I used to work as a waiter with in Waterloo years ago. Always fancied himself and shagged loads of South Road slags whilst his Mrs was at home looking after his 3 kids. He asked me if I was working and told him I was working for immigration. He then comes out and says he owns two takeaways, one in Hoylake and one in Heswall. I told him well done and congratulated him.

 

I was out jogging a few weeks later and jogged past a kebab shop in Dovecote and seen him mopping up. I went in and said alright to him and he started panicking thinking I'd ask why if he owned two takeaways on the Wirral he was in a takeaway in Dovecote mopping the floor. He obviously still thought I lived in Waterloo and would never bump into him again to prove his bullshit wrong. It was funny arching squirm.

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Anyone seen going into or coming out of some of the places on this list is a cunt.

 

http://www.buzzfeed.com/mikepw/liverpool-bars#.pl01w9kAN

 

Some decent boozers here, fair enough.  Then there's the kind of place described as

This place is one of the city’s up-and-coming drinking spots. Suave, atmospheric, and very, very cool, it’s hidden away on Berry Street. There’s no sign or noticeable entrance; just a door to knock on and, if there’s room, they’ll let you in.

 

or

 

A small, unadvertised bar that deals exclusively in absinthe cocktails

 

or

 

a basement, retro-vibed bar. The only problem you’ll have is finding it. 

 

People who make sure everyone in the same postcode knows they're ordering an Absinthe.

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One of those jaw dropping calls we get at work from time to time. This seems as good a place as any to post it

Woman calls in to report problems relating to a contact visit with her young grandson

Her: She (his mother) was supposed to pick him up at 12 and its gone 2 now and I cant get hold of her
Me: I'm not sure how we can help but are you able to look after him just now?
Her: Well, I've not been feeling too well today and, erm, well, I'm 44 and I could be doing without this kind of trouble at my age

I honestly dont know how I managed to maintain my calm until the called ended and I could explode with disbelief and laughter.

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