Please log in to use all the site's facilities
|New pub in the Bush|
at 23:19 16 Oct 2021
On the bus on the way down this morning saw that a new pub has been built at the BBC TV centre. It’s called The Broadcaster.
Still looks to be finished and will be posh, poncey and pricey. They’ll probably bar football supporters.
Only alcohol can save us now.
at 18:07 6 Oct 2021
Why is it meant to make life f ucking easier when it purely makes life f ucking unremittingly @rsreclenchingly f ucking crap.
To get any bit of any technof*ckingnology to work is a complete bollockache. You know it will be as even to get the git out of its box needs a degree in origami or a f ucking machete.
After managing to rip it open with you f ucking teeth, you read the bastard f ucking instructions. Christ on a bastard bicycle. Configure this, Colgate that, select a selection that doesn’t bastard exist. Log onto a website that turns out to be in bleeding Chinese. Reset the whole f ucking thing again. Select a password, which one the R’s theee of the f uckers.
Spend three git bastard bum bag hours trying to get tgat to work and the internet goes down. Have to reset tge arsenag password. Which one you complete nazi, which f ucking one?
Eventually get back on and then realise you’ve used the wrong password all bollocking day. Shit on my head. But no, using the correct pigging password still doesn’t f ucking compute to anything and sod all f ucking works. Not after spending the whole brain farting day trying to work the c ock shrivelling bugger to work. Shove it up yer Granny’s crack.
Bring back a pencil and f ucking paper. Don’t need a poxy helpline for that bastard, just a sharpener and your brain.
F uck technof*ckingnology.
at 22:01 29 Sep 2021
It seems that the gate on Tuesday was only six hundred shy of the gate the previous Tuesday.
Whoever calculates our attendance figures need to cut back on the acid baby.
|As Mark Hollis sang…,|
at 21:10 27 Sep 2021
Life Is What Make It.
Life is a wonderful, beautiful, insane thing.
Our existence in and of itself is a miracle. Our inability to control the existence of life to our liking is the cause of great frustration and so much pain.
Life is about living, it’s about making more life so that living can continue. And to do that needs sustenance. Move forward, learn how to survive.
Eventually our personal race will be run. Our trials and tribulations will be scattered like dust in the air.
While we’re here, trying to plough our field without it being defiled, we need to nurture and protect that what keeps us alive.
Destruction breeds destruction. It’s futility is inbuilt. Hatred does not breed. It kills.
As ‘sentient’ beings we have self awareness and yet we are self destructive due to our bartering system.
Eventually we will rescind into the never ending darkness and life will become irrelevant and our race will be lost.
We’d better f ucking beat Brum tomorrow.
|Does it matter that we are |
at 20:43 27 Sep 2021
Known generally as Queens Park Rangers and not Queen’s Park Rangers or that 1882 is considered our year of formation and not 1886 or is it 1885?
Personally I couldn’t give a hoot about either but it seems to be a thing amongst some. Fair enough.
Doesn’t change the fact that existence is matter of the mind and that we are stardust floating in a period of time we have no control over.
at 22:39 22 Sep 2021
When all is said and done……
It’s pretty decent isn’t it.
Not living s a bit of a dead end.
Other time wasters are available.
|Bish Bush Bash|
at 22:31 21 Sep 2021
Hoo har have a cigar
Never liked a pencil, always preferred pens.
Eight is seven minus one.
Good times liberation blues.
|The world drags me down|
at 00:26 19 Sep 2021
Makes my back makes my back burn
Show me how to find sanitary you complete fuc king bastard
Yeah hah yeah
|Me hat me Ghandi|
at 23:43 18 Sep 2021
He believed in revolution by peaceful means.
Until he got spannered in The Pav after a travesty of a result at the Loftus Road shrine.
Where he necked 10 pints a Guinness a bottle ofcSorirjern Comfort and pissed on the telly calling his mum a c unt.
Thatc Ghandi bloke had it right. When shit happens get happenshit.
|Tomorrow I shall be spreading vaseline up my arse|
at 21:26 10 Sep 2021
And with good reason.
While you lot will be drinking and talking bollocks around Reading, I’m going to be walking 15 Miles around the bridges of London. I’m memory of my sister in law who died suddenly in April. Proceeds to the British Heart Foundation.
Four years ago I did the moonwalk with my wife. That’s the full 26 mile marathon overnight. By the end my bollocks were the size of grapefruits and my arse cheeks were frictioned to a crisp. Bandy legged and I couldn’t walk straight for two days.
While you are having your first pint, I’ll be rubbing Vaseline up me jacksy. Just you remember that.
Up the R’s tomorrow.
[Post edited 11 Sep 6:26]
|Why are happy songs considered to be crap|
at 22:22 8 Sep 2021
And only crap songs about being miserable worthy.
Happy is good no?
Mortuary Morrisey and his ilk ? Phooey
Being happy good.
Ian Curtis . Example.
at 21:03 3 Sep 2021
As we laugh at the past, the present will be just as comical in tomorrow’s present.
We learn and we forget.
The hippocampus is deflated.
But hippies on a campus will be shot.
Think what you will but no one. Will ever. Care.
I missed a ticket for Thames Valley Librarians.
F uck off.
at 23:17 24 Jul 2021
To tell those you love, you love them.
To remind yourself that you could be wrong about everything.
That it doesn’t last forever
But it’s good while it does
Don’t be a c unt
Like a c unt
Now isn’t the answer to everything. Nothing is new.
Politics is fake news. Look at North Korea/any government.
All this is shit
Life is fu cking short.
Long is to love
|Leeds away 1987|
at 00:41 24 Jul 2021
Got locked out with thousands of nutters around the ground.
Tried to surreptously stroll up to a copper outside tge away end and say “my brother and I are Rangers fans”.
His loud reply of “Well you’d better f uck off back to London” luckily was drowned out by achearty “we are Leeds erc” rendition by the nut jobs around us.
We watched patches of the game from a hill outside until we gave up. Then someone somewhere says “oh f ucking bollocks”. Oh hello! I heard no roar inside but sidle up to some random northerner and say in my most fluent Watford accent “have they equalised,” his exploitive s were loveingly accepted.
Game is now running down and this place is making Dodge look very dodgy indeed. Bus back to the pub.
As we’re queuing up for the bus about five people behind me is a man mountain of a bloke wobbling about all over the shop. With his todget out, that is getting within kissing distance of his knee caps, pissing from left to right.
Leeds score. Oh Christ. Each woman and her child is thrown in the air. And mister giant piss cock is spraying his love all around. No seems to notice or care that they are being covers in eight pints of regurgitated Tennets Super.
Rangers are out of the FA Cup for the 189th consecutive season.
Later that night I sing QPR songs in a Leeds city Center pub, my brother drags me out and I fall down a drain.
1987. That was a long bloody time ago.
|Harrow darling it’s John Brough|
at 23:42 21 Jul 2021
There’s a QPR conundrum to lick your spliff.
4-0 to the R soles.
Long walks to the pub s with A Northolt guide.
XTC in the Garden. Not Woodstock.
Life is live la la na nah
Hoorah for Peter.
|Content with your place in the world|
at 23:06 9 Jul 2021
When I was asked as a kid what I wanted to be, I always said “to be happy”. Little did o know what that meant or how hard and unobtainable it could be.
As I got older and wis(d)er, I still felt being “happy” was the ultimate and achievable goal. Simple, nothing much to ask for.
Turns out, it’s the worst thing to try and achieve. No one is ever “happy” for any given time. You can be “happy” for twenty minutes. Or twenty hours. Life will always pull you back. That maybe a better thing, to make the happiness, euphoric. Or .
Life goes on day after day, we have a responsibility to make it a better thing for those behind us. Those that swim in our wake and swallow our water and think we are the ones who make them drown.
Being “content”. That’s the only way forward.
With a lamp.
at 23:47 30 Jun 2021
Cousin of Rick O’Shea.
Big Chief Talking Bollocks
at 02:13 29 Jun 2021
Is not as described but can’t be not described. As a movement. Like perristolsis.
Is history a true reflection or a reflection of lies of a story.
That were made up of stiff and shit?
|Forum Votes: ||1442|
|Comment Votes: ||1|
|Prediction League: ||0|