YorkshireRed

I watched her making these as well. Nigella making ribs. A glorious spectacle.

I vote Rushies Tash.

If you’d have been in charge of the ferry that sailed from Felixstowe, to Gothenburg, and then on to Amsterdam, before finally returning to Felixstowe, in the early 1980’s, there’d have been even more scintillating drama than there already was.

I just hope that, wherever he is, they serve chips and egg on a Tuesday and Steak on Thursdays. If not, he’ll be well peeved.

This appears to have been washed down with a fruit shoot. I must say, that given the adult content of some of your posts, I’m surprised to find out that you are nine years old.

Budapest is a belting place for a weekend/mini break away that might be a little less obvious. Better than Prague in my opinion. Dubrovnik can combine a spectacular place with island hopping, sea swimming etc. From Milan you can easily get out to Lake Como. Barcelona never fails to give you the lot. There’s loads, but there’s a few to mull over.

Hope someone upstairs has a job for him. RIP.

Trying to take a few moments to enjoy the garden in a bit of, all too rare, morning sunshine. Find myself barely noticing it these days as life gets in the way.

Looks ok that. I’d prefer the bacon a little crispier and, perhaps, a black pudding instead of the tomatoes (just a personal choice), but this appears eminently edible. p.s You’re a disgrace for posting photos of nice looking breakfasts. Down with this kind of thing.

Went to the local cricket club today. Was respectful and waited until the two teams had eaten before I piled in. Had three egg sandwiches, one cheese, two pork pies, two sausage rolls, a few chips. and a slice of cake. Took zero wickets and scored zero runs. Still got fed.

I’m all aboard the Gerrard train but I thought I’d see honourable mentions for Ricky Villa on here. Also, don’t forget when Newcastle were undressed. Not to mention the disallowed goal in the same game.

I’m baffled as to why you needed to superglue yourself to the ceiling in order to post this photo. We can applaud the commitment, if not the actual food.

Registered, lurked, posted. Got banned, returned.

Fuck everyone. I’ve been out so missed start of this. I know loads but I’m sulking so fuck everyone. Especially Kuntz.

At the end of the day we know you’re a sound poster. Misstep, or well researched and articulated post, we know nothing you’re giving to write comes from a bad place. All is good in our hood.

A bit more on the Cantona transfer to United. Leeds enquired about the possibility of singing Dennis Irwin from the Mancs. The result of the enquiry, or so legend has it anyway, is that they intended up selling Eric Cantona instead.

Premier Inn in Melton Mowbray. I was disappointed it didn’t include a pork pie. The lady who served me had a bad leg. I wanted to empathise with her injury, but wasn’t sure if it was a temporary thing, or perhaps a disability. Decided it was better to say nothing. I then spent the rest of the eating part of my breakfast feeling guilty, and wondering if she thought I was a right cunt for not acknowledging her difficulties. To be honest this ruined the food a bit for me and I found myself resenting her for this, then feeling guilty for doing so. Sometimes breakfast can bring challenges to fuck up your day before it’s really begun.

Although things like fresh air, and exercise, can be beneficial to those with mental heath conditions this still feels like a message for the often very unwell to “pull themselves together” It’s the way they tell ‘em. And what the knowledge that these kind of policies are rarely about the health and wellbeing of those impacted.

My Dad, who was actually a Newcastle fan, was at this game. He was a medical student in Leeds at the time and was in their end. He often spoke of the noise made by the Liverpool fans who were there that day. If I had a Time Machine, that’s a game I’d drop into. I’d hang about in 1965 and go to the Inter Milan game as well.

Can you make people sit down upon command?

Top one looks like the current hairstyle of a popular poster (allegedly).

Blue Boar Pub in Westminster. A bit pricey at £29 but nice.

Cheaters never beat. Apart from those Oil cunts.

We know he can cook like Tom Kerridge, but can he unmentionable like Bobby Charlton? I suspect he’s more Kerridge than Charlton so off it must come.

Disgrace. What they fuck am I supposed to do all week now! I can’t prepare as I challenge myself to do it on the hoof. In fact I have to berate myself when my thoughts start wondering towards where my A might come from. This might be harder than the female one. Blokes generally aren’t worth writing songs about. Apart from bastardised versions for unmentionablers and politicians.