Captain Turdseye

In tears at this. Tree fiddy for two. Cracked me up.

@Kevin D One for your collection.

That’s more than enough, mate. You’ve written it down on the internet. Thank you.

But you’re emphasising the ‘A’, yeah? Rib-Ann.

You’re calling them Blue Ribbons? Are you off your nut?

I’ve always pronounced these Blue Rib-And. Dunno why. My bird insists it’s pronounced more like ‘Ribboned’ Again, I’m not having it. I won’t be corrected.

I’ve got this thing going on with the MS where occasionally I can’t think of a pacific word or I’ll say the wrong one in the middle of a sentence and carry on without realising. They’ve offered me a speech therapy session but I can’t be arsed with any of that nonsense. My missus and kids always know what I’m trying to say anyway and rip the piss out of me when it happens. I don’t want to take that pleasure away from them.

Ibuprofen. Apparently I’ve been pronouncing it wrong most of my life. Just because I’ve been corrected doesn’t mean I’ll change my ways.

Might be one for the parenting thread, but our teenage girl text me the other night. “Any chance you could pick me up at 8ish x” She sent the text at 7:52. I’ll just fucking snap my fingers and be there, eh. I’ve arranged to give her a lift home tonight. So far it’s been 8pm at school, then 8:20 at Tesco and now “might be a bit late, show still going on” I’m gonna be sat outside Tesco for half an hour like a twat.

That’s the greatest country in the history of the world, you’re talking about.

John Oliver did a segment about that recently.

Come on, mate. I’d remember stuff like that, we all would. Spill the beans. So what if you ruffle a few feathers.

Stronts, now Rico’s gone, can you fill us in on who he thought had multiple accounts on here? This is interesting stuff. I’ve been blissfully unaware of these shenanigans.

No, this one. She came from nine seconds back to win The Eliminator in the semi-final, mate. What a woman.

Duh. That’s where he was aiming for obviously. Probably wanted to practice his bunker shots.

Some Essex accents are pretty nice on women as well, to be fair. Nice old style Essex. Same as Scousers, really.

And you’ll very much want to get away quickly, like Stig said. There’s an Irish bird on Gladiators at the moment with an accent to die for. It helps that she’s very, very pretty. She’s through to the final this weekend.

I start a lot of sentences with “Ah,” or “Er,”. Can’t help it. The thing I use too much is “Ah, bollocks” I say that all the time. Everything must be bollocks.

Blame the Germans.

The ‘Becoming a Dad’ thread would have been like his own personal diary, had he been a TLW member back in the day. Reckon he’d have been a keen gardener as well.

Keita is the correct answer. He was a massive fucking let-down, of course, but he was part of more good stuff here than Thiago’s been.

I had an exercise bike in the house here. Not an expensive one, hundred quid or something. It never got used, ended up being one more thing that needed dusting. I flogged it on Facebook a while back. Now I’m trying to lose weight I reckon I’d have been using it but, alas. I’m not cut out for going the gym.

This was two weeks ago. I drove us there last week, in part because of the week before. My boy isn’t one for confrontation, so after I’d caused this scene in the cab, he stormed off over to my bird’s mum & dads (which is where he lives in between uni terms) in a drunken huff. All fine the day afterwards of course but I decided to just drive down last week instead and kicked his arse 6-1 when I was sober. We’ve just left that pub and got a taxi home tonight, but this time it was a proper cab, so we’re both in the back. We’re both in good spirits tonight even though he’s just lost 8-0 and I’d got my highest ever break. (26. Twenty-Fucking-Six) Within 60 seconds of getting in the taxi it was abundantly clear that he was fucking around and going a different way to run up the meter. If you lived in this town you’d know that there’s no two ways about it. I held my hands up as if to say “told you so” and he held his up to indicate that I was justified in my argument last time. We spent the rest of the journey home taking it in turns to query his route home in a proper piss taking manner to the point we’re laughing at each other’s sentences in the back of the cab. Fucking cunt company, really. Anyway, last time the driver got a tip off the boy to apologise for my arguing on the way home. This time the boy paid on his card. No tip. A nod of appreciation to me afterwards. Fair enough, I was right last time, even though I might not have gone about it with much subtlety. 26. Twenty-Six.