Well spotted, young sir. And I strangely watched that very episode of A Bit Of Fry And Laurie on G.O.L.D (UK Gold to you an I).
Whilst I do find Gavin and Stacey to be the most refreshingly gentle and warm sitcom of recent times I can’t help but think that their new sketch show is both utter wank and, as do you, stolen (see Ghost sketch).
I wouldn’t right them off yet though. Lesbian Vampire killers looks like the best thing since that Spaced bunch punted at cinema. Not to mention the fact that it reminds me of the Dr Terrible’s House of Horrible lines…
‘I was attacked by a bunch of lesbian vampires!’
‘Don’t be stupid, there’s no such thing as lesbians’
You utter bastard. Where was the warning message, eh? Everyone knows that the new Hale & Pace make me vomit copiously every time I see them. How do I explain that to my boss, eh? She won’t like her new splatter effect office, I can just tell. You utter bastard.
I don’t know what channel I was watching the other day (possibly Sunday), but there was this man with annoying hair and this awful, smug woman introducing ancient Simpsons episodes. I wanted to put my boot through the telly every time they came on. Was it Sky?
hello. I cannot see these videos, due to the previously mentioned domain problems.
I have a few points though:
1) Telemachus is not alone in thinking that BBC3 is utterly pointless.
2) I prefer that Grenner Grass abonimation to G&S – which is not to say i like the former in any way shape or form
3) How come i go away for a day and you discuss 2 really good things? PAh
4) Nappers, how do you manage to get annoyed by someone else’s hair? Is it hair envy?
This Oliver woman you mentioned. If it’s the same one I saw, she had a very lazy, strung-out way of talking. I couldn’t work out if she was a simpleton, or if she’d had a night on the sauce the previous day.
Mel – I get annoyed by people’s hair when it looks like that man’s did on the telly. I was also watching a list show on Saturday (I think), and it was presented by another of these hideous women, plus a twat with an awful northern accent that sounded like he was laughing when he spoke. He had this fringe that infuriated me. The bastard. He was another one who spoke like he’d just been given morphine.
Mel – No thanks. I’ve been to sleep, and don’t fancy a tea. Plus I’m too worked up now thanks to Swineshead linking to a picture of that smug little shit. I’d not be able to sleep if if I hadn’t already had all loads last night.
Incidentally, I dreamed an intriguing international murder mystery last night. Hats off to my missus for waking me up at the exact point where the murderer was about to be revealed.
Mel – I never want to see his gurning, grinning head again. And that fucking voice …
Give me the educated tones of an Attenborough or a Dimbleby any day. From now on I’m sticking to the back-to-back repeats of A Picture Of Britain on Sundays. You know where you are with A Picture Of Britain.
jaime winston = ugle
alfie allen = annoying
peaches geldof = heavy jawed
pixie geldof = prettier than peaches
kelly osbourne = addict
jack osbourne = fat
alexa chung = better than fearne
miquita oliver = friends with winehouse
amy winehouse = tragic clown
lily allen = long bottomed
If we’d known in the olden days that we’d get saddled with loads of celebrities’ kids, I reckon we’d have boycotted stuff like Live Aid just so the likes of Geldof and his clan of shitwit children ended up forgotten in the gutter. Why did I ever tolerate Keith Allen? Why didn’t Ozzy have the decency to drink himself to death in the late ’70s? The horror … the horror …
Carrie Fisher’s always come across as a cool cat. Liza Minelli’s bloody awful. I like Jamie Lee Curtis – ‘specially her tits in Trading Places. The Redgraves seem alright, except I’ve heard Michael was a bit of a twat. I might have that wrong though.
Breeks, she was/is all three. Bless her Blue-blooded cotton socks.
Seriously tho, in a college where everyone was the son of a Brasilian prince/Tory MP/both she was a bit of fresh air. She could have easily ignored me, but I will always remember her making room for me in the study centre (homework room) and sharing a few jokes. This was at the time when the legal shit was going on too, so she could have easily shut down and acted all rude.
bm – it’s ok. i’m posh on one side of the ancestry. illiterate on the other, mind.
also my parents at one point in my life had no money to pay for housing (ie: 5 members of my family living in one room in someone else’s house) but did continue to send us to an exorbitantly priced private school.
No, i find ranting about Norwegians is always best on a full stomach indy. You crack on.
Actually, i was forced by the outlaws to watch a “hilarious” film about some blokes on a yacht. It was fairly carry-on in nature (without the massive bazookas), but the central premise of the film seemed to be that one should laugh hysterically every time this one short balding mustachioed bloke said anything. It turned out that the hilarious joke was that he was actually Norwegian, and therefore had a funny accent. Oh how i didn’t laugh.
I always find it funny how the scandies are exactly like the English?Irish?Scots/Welsh. I bet they back anyone in the world cup rather than support Sweden too (well, at least they would if Sweden were in the world cup for anything other than Bandy!)
Indy – yawn. I get reminded of this fact every time Sweden play England. I don’t care, the balls are the wrong shape, what the hell does it matter, it is only a game, and did i mention that i couldn’t care less?
do you know the “hilarious” film about some blokes on a boat in the archipelago?
Mel – So you’re a rugby fan, are you. Accountants and merchant bankers feeling one another up on a field, then going out to dip their cocks in unsuspecting drinkers’ beer on one of their hilarious rugby lads nights out. Tripe.
mel: ah. it was a swedish movie… was it about a boat race on a canal? it might have been one of “göta kanal” movies. cult family friendly fun depicting all persons of mediterranian/middle eastern/asian decent as either comical characters or evil doers?
the original movie was made in a time of un-pc mono-cultural climate.
personally i do not recommend these movies. i am more of bergman kind of person.
Yes NC rugby. Played by posh boys in the SE, and EVERYONE where i am from. We do not have a football team, and we know how to play a proper MAN’S game. Even my sister, who was a loose head prop. I am not ashamed of it either.
Indy – yes that sounds like the sort of nonsense. I hate these films only marginally less than i hate having to watch Kalle fucking Anke every goddamn Julafton that I spend in Sweden. It is always the same clips. AND it is Disney. Most of Sweden is acers though. Except Kiruna, i have been there. They are moving the town because the Iron mine has made it unstable. Brilliant!
naps – i wouldn’t worry your pretty, withered mind with such fancies, to be honest. you’re better put to use in the coal pits, where counting doesn’t matter and in fact it’s better if you can’t measure the long years rolling by with nothing changing for you but your alveoli slowly withering in the fine dust.
Mel – Rugby’s a man’s game? How? It originated in the effeminate world of the British public school system, is played almost exclusively by posh twits, and is beloved of Hooray Henrys and blustering idiots. Men – real men, that is, the ones you find down mines and making stuff out of iron and steel – watch football. It’s the ultimate man’s game, unlike your piffling rugby nonsense. A man’s game, indeed!
As I recall, the one good thing about playing rugby, was that you were actively encouraged to pummel an entire generation of future merchant bankers into the dirt.
There may have been some other rules, but I can’t really remember. And just to confuse matters, I did my time down the pit as well. Although it was all a bit grubby, so I moved onwards and upwards to labouring on building sites. While still pummelling future merchant bankers on the rugby pitch.
Happy days, front row forward, that was me. Course, now all me bones are falling apart, but I’m sure it was worth it.
mel: i spent my summer holiday in laponia and took the trip down the mine. 500 m below the ground. acers indeed. kalle anka (donald duck) is rubbish. it’s a relic from the time when sweden pretended to be a soviet state in order to fake a bit of neutrality during the cold war. kalle anka was an gift from the right wing lobby at the public service every christmas because the rest of the year it was just chekoslovakian dolls for children’s entertainment. i recommend karl-bertil jonssons jul as remedy. a modern robin hood story about a kid that steals christmas gifts from the rich and give it to orphans, prostitutes and rough sleepers.
Brilliant, thanks Indy. I am going to try and muscle in on many years of Bonde family history and insist we watch this instead. Yippee!
I got shown John Blund at a family gathering once. They were all reminiscing about how their childhood telly was all communist. Then they asked me about my childhood TV. I grew up in the 70s/80s, so most of my TV programmes were about drugs. They were shocked.
“Feel one another up in the showers.
Have enormous ears.
Are all inbred.
Drink each others’ spunks as part of their pathetic drinking games.
Think wearing kilts is hilarious.
All of these things were perpetrated by the delightful members of Blackheath Rugby Club, Lahndan, during my brief tenure there. On one memorable occasion, they were done simultaneously. But, credit where credit’s due, it was one of the reasons I went back to Scotchland.
now whilst not holding this particular example up as a prime piece of real estate (that’s my mum’s job) there are no cauliflower ears, they’re tougher than pansy-faced soccer players and basically just better. cause they’re aussie.
the norwegians: norway is basically saudiarabia by the north sea. religious extremists (late 19th century, “old school” protestantism) led by a king that better not be critized when one is surrounded by norwegians (in sweden, our king is something of a laughing stock, a womanizer in his early years, chain smoker and dyslectic) that lives of fishing and oil. no factories or companies to talk about if you take away those two very basic refining industries, which are both damaging the environment and not very popular among people with even the littlest interest for animal rights (for further info google “norway + whale hunt + clubbing seal cubs to death). on the other hand they are crazy about going on “tur” (tour sort of). on weekends the norwegians put on wholly sweaters and enjoy nature either by foot or by skiing. this is quite common even amongst youths that would qualify as hip and trendy if seen, let’s say in shoreditch, but believe me when i say that they aren’t. with the exception of the absurd and suicidal church-burning death metal caricatures there is no youth culture at all in norway. they are all godfearing monarchists who all dream of a future as fisherman/oil sheik/amateur david attenborough. on top of this the norwegians are a very healthy, smug and nationalistic (typically for nations that has been recently under foreign control; swedish, danish, swedish again and then nazi-occupied) people. norway is prominent in skiing but crap in other nordic sports like ice hockey and bandy. unlike sweden and denmark they haven’t got any medals in universally recognised sports like football. the norwegian currency is hysterically overpriced which means that £20 gives you a beer and piece of pizza when dining on the oslo equivalent of oxford street. daylight robbery. swedish rip-offs of the peepshow character jeremy, “jez”, tend to go to oslo, share a minimal flat with 10 like-minded persons, live on porridge for three months, take a ridiculously overpaid job in the service industry and then take a gap year in thailand/india.
Indy – This bit, love the pathos
“the norwegian currency is hysterically overpriced which means that £20 gives you a beer and piece of pizza when dining on the oslo equivalent of oxford street. daylight robbery. swedish rip-offs of the peepshow character jeremy, “jez”, tend to go to oslo, share a minimal flat with 10 like-minded persons, live on porridge for three months,”
They were quite harsh on the National Service if you didn’t want to bear arms in Sweden. My BF had ti go and see three psychiatrists before he could be declared “unfit” for the army. He had to do 2 years in a hydropower plant instead.
Excelsior!: i was still living in post-school world when always doing your best was still considered the smartest thing to do. i should have faked incompetence like many other of my generation and then been able to get away without having to do national service.
i ended up in the armoured forces, where being short is being an asset (tanks tend to be very small on the inside, not tardis-like) and learnt a lot about using machine guns, driving tanks, shouting at people and watching porn, reading porn and watching even more porn.
the moomins are finnish. this publishing thing might be because of tove jansson, fantastic writer, creator of moomins and closet lesbian, is one of the left-behinds, a swedish-finn. the poor fellows that stayed after the duke of finland was forced out of the eastern provinces by the russian bear.
even if i admire janssons work i must give credit to the finns. moomins are typically finnish.
naps – clearly the giant holes in your intellect have prevented you from retaining crucial information about my employment, you fucking pillock. i will not be in a position to shut my fatuous cake-hole, effluent flavoured of course, until i can be sure that you have fully contracted your shit-filled sphincter tight enough to ensure that the rest of us suffer no more.
Indy – they have, and there was a TV series of them in English too, but i cannot really remember how they spoke. There is a fin at my work who does to those things with all of the consonant sounds that you mention.
DINLT – i am not bullying Dave. I wish him all the luck in the world, but please, root vegetable jokes about the Swedish – the entire Swedish nation and I have heard them all a million times before, and they were not funny the first time.
As for the make Dave a millionaire initiative, I will do my bit next week.
Dave have a pound ready…we are going to make you some money. Investment a pound….everybody else too if you want. If all goes well in the first race at Cheltenham, initial investment will be re -couped. If not …then the investment fund will have failed immediately.
Breeks – Holes in my intellect? What would those be, then? I’d dearly love to be told what they are by an imbecile who’s yet to learn how to use capital letters when spouting whatever drivel’s on her mind. As for your career – it’s more that I couldn’t give a tupenny fuck what job you do than it is a matter of remembering. I don’t tend to retain completely useless information about the ten-a-penny career choices of strangers on the internet.
NC – you just need to make it look like you comply with Charity Commission rules. Make Dave a *cause* and the charity about helping him, and then you need a patron, and Bob could have just proposed to your dad’s sister.
Mel – But the charity commission rules clearly state you can’t have an individual person as a charity. Unless I say there’s loads of him, I don’t see how I can get around it. I could set him up as a business, I suppose, but that’s hardly ideal, is it?
Indy – You’ve still got the sticky problem of the money. I’ll end up in the shit if I get donations coming in without first setting him up as a charity. It’s more complicated than you might think. I bet Danny Wallace could do it.
Breeks – I love you too. I love all the girls (18+).
Making Dave a cause – the cause is something along the lines of ‘a charity for the aid of poor wee scotch fellas that have had to move back in with their mum in kircaldy but have always wanked in the dark’ or something. The more specific you can make it to be about Dave, the more watertight it will be when you hand over the csh to your sole cause.
You will clearly need a better slogan for the tin rattlers to shout than ‘please spare some change to help a poor wee scotch fella that has recently had to move back with his mum but has always wanked in the dark’ though, because any potential donors would be long gone before they could finish. And it wouldn’t all fit on the sticker.
No, Dave has not pissed me off. It was things that he has said about himself in the last few days, and some words that i used to make the acronym DAVE.
I don’t mean to come across as harsh. I am trying to be useful with regard to getting him charitable status. Of course, we could just register him as a private school, and then we could register him as a charity. Job done.
Indy, it was more like the following
Boss, appearing suddenly behind my desk: What are you doing?
Me, jumping and panicking a bit, pressing send: Erm, not much
Him: yes, i can see that, now stop typing on the internet and do some work.
Mel – I didn’t know they’d stopped animals appearing in circuses. Is that The Bloody EEC poking their noses into our circuses? Wouldn’t surprise me. Only last week they banned dangerous chemicals from our Great British sofas without first bothering to ask if we wanted them banning. ‘Common Market’, my arse.
Breeks – This old person may have been scowling because you’ve clearly not been feeding yourself well. Like all old folks, they no doubt wanted to make you a seemingly endless pile of sandwiches. I get this from my grandparents despite being Britain’s second fattest man.
What is it about them? Why does getting on make you suddenly look about your family of clinically obese lard-arses, and see nothing but withered husks? How old am I going to be when I suddenly start making vast piles of sandwiches for anyone who comes to visit me in my house wot’s heating- / gas-fire-combo makes it hotter than the surface of the sun?
And where do old people get their ham from? It’s always better than your ham. Is there an old people’s ham shop that exclusively sells really nice ham to old folks?
Well, my Mum who was of grandparent age when she died, used to go on a ham buying trip every Tuesday. She would get the Number 38 bus, and return several hours later, laden down with several tons (British not metric EEC bastards), which she would stockpile for sandwich related emergencies.
However, the Number 38 was jam packed full of pensioners on a ham buying expedition, and they didn’t take kindly to an interloper in their midst.
They ganged up on me with VapoRub, Werther’s Original and that peculiar old person smell of mothballs, decaying newspapers and linament. By the time came to, it was Thursday week and my Mum was standing by with a ham sandwich.
Indy – i agree that renstek *is* a gastronomical sensation, and makes up most of what they eat in Kiruna, but have you ever tried it on a swedish train? That is a gastronomic sense of impending doom. With Lingonsylt.
ugeine: well. i used to go there when working weekends in rayners lane. it was either them or some kind of dominos pizza eatery (but not dominos pizza, probably dominicas pizza or dominics pizza). i didn’t fancy neither which is a totally resonable thing not to do. i guess it’s “giving” rather than “recieving” to your mentioned homophobes.
Once upon a time, in a pub called the Conan Doyle, they sued to serve a Breakfast Bap.
Which would have been good enough, just for all the smutty comments you could make to the waitress. However, when it arrived, it was a white roll, the size of a dinner plate, with a full Scotch breakfast inside it.
Bacon (2), sausage (2 rashers), black pudding, fried egg and a tattie scone, all swimming in butter and grease. I measured it once, and it was nine inches across, and took 45 minutes to eat.
Mr. H – I had a similar reaction in a sandwich shop in London. For a start I didn’t want the ham and egg filling ‘on’ any kind of fancy-ass bread, I wanted it ‘in’ a white roll with butter. And neither did I want the vast selection of weeds, funny foreign cheeses or those vile-tasting olive things they wanted to shove in there. As for the slop that was their idea of sauces, well you can forget it. Unbelievable what muck Londoners’ll eat.
Hmm, salad cream. The only good thing about Glasgow is that they have 24 hour shops where you can buy egg and salad cream sandwiches. On white bread. It’s the only thing that’s saved them so far from the petrol and matches treatment.
Oh, and what the hell is an open bloody sandwich. A sandwich can’t be open. Bread on bread action is what constitutes a sandwich. I’ve got a funny feeling this is something else we can blame Europe for. Anyway, it needs to be stopped. Now.
There’s a place round my way that does a Breakfast ‘Breadcake’ (ey up, ey up, bring on the whippets, etc.) that consists of three sausages, three rashers of bacon, two fried eggs, mushrooms and black pudding. I bought one, bit into it, and the whole lot shot out of the side and slopped all down my pullover and onto the floor. Still, the bread was nice.
my latest *really good* sandwich was a ciabatta with minute steak, fried slices of onion, tomatoes, horse radish sauce and sallad. made it in my own kitchen before watching arsenal playing 0-0 against fulham. in retrospect i should have eaten my sandwich and called it a day.
Indy – What’s wrong with your sandwich? Well where do I start? Ciabatta bread’s too wanky, I personally can’t stand onions, horseradish sauce is the devil’s relish and I’ve always found hot meat and cold salad make strange bed-fellows.
And you’re right about me not stealing your food. I would, sadly, go out of my way to steal all of your money.
Indy – YOUR head! A head that’s been addled by years of eating fancy sandwiches! I wouldn’t feed a dog one of your damned sandwiches, d’ye hear? Bloody weeds and rubbish squeezed between slices of nonsense is what they are.
Mr Perry – there is little point indulging in badinage with A European. As we all know, everything they do is basically wrong, especially when it comes to food. I heard a rumour once, that there isn’t a single deep fat fryer in the whole of Scandinavialand. Which is why my ancestors moved to somewhere that knew the proper use for dripping.
Indy – I haven’t got a dog! And I meant all dogs, damn you! Even those awful little dogs you want to kick right up the arse. Not even one of those little bastards should be made to endure one of your cack-handed bloody sandwiches. Disgusting!
After all the nasty things that monkeys have got up to over the years*, a little payback seemed only fair.
Granted, nowadays, I’d settle for a nice bit of roast beef and some English mustard, placed between two slices of a plain half loaf, but youth is when one should do stupid things. Like eating monkey brains and voting.
*swatting helicopters, flying after Dorothy, changing name to Paul Daniels and getting a TV series.
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