A former college called me at work and pointed me in their direction.
I replied to all the rumours and condolences directly, when out of the mists of time comes an old room mate, bounding towards me like a Labrador with a turd in it’s mouth!
He made references to all the “good times we had”
Obviously being a member of this fine forum I am more honest than most, and had to remind him of the fact he stole tools from my tank, helped himself to item’s from my locker and shit out in combat.
I was asked to remove these comments, which I did, seeing as it is a respectful site.
But why the fuck do people gloss over history to the extent we are all mates?
Nominated by: Lord Benny
I was invited to a 60th birthday party by someone I’d not seen for over 40 years.
How was it? Well, I wrote a song about it – and every bloody word is true…
Nominated by: Chas C
Personally only used it once to check up on the bunch of cunts I went to school with.
Fortunately it turns out that none of them live anywhere near me.
Which is a relief.
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its wasnt about friends reunited, it is a regimental memorial site, as mentioned I seem to have died in 1994/3.
thinking about it, I could have claimed on my life insurance had I have known.
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Never mind, I did chuckle about the Labrador with a turd. 🙂
Know that feeling well.
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I was thinking about this sort of thing just this morning. This has happened to me more than once, some person you’ve worked with who was a total twat, surly, difficult, unco-operative, someone you wish you’d never met, comes up to you years later and wants to chat like you were old friends. What makes them think you’d want to bother? I don’t. Once a twat, always a twat.
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The life CUNTER is always prepared; eventually.
For this eventuality carry a card on which is written.
Sorry if I don’t recognize you I have alzheimers. Please direct me to the nearest toilet.
Or. If approached by someone who thinks they know you………..” I know you from somewhere.”
Feign deep thought and reply:
“Stangeways. C wing roof 1990, by we had fun tossing them slates; fuck the system!”
That’s all.
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I have one old friend from school that I keep in touch with, the rest of them were cunts then and are probably still cunts now. I did get invited to a reunion a few years ago but my reply was “Can I bring my own baseball bat?”
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any web based system that allows wankers from the past to track you down,i get pestered by arseholes I was in school with for class reunion parties and coffees so they can dress up organise a limo to drop them off and tell you loads of lies about how well they are doing[fake rolex ect] the only saving grace was the school bully is now married to the school bike and has 3 kids all by different dads…..what a cunt
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p,s they were cunts then that I hated and guess what they are cunts now…..fuck off wankers who I could very happily never see again
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Most every time I go shopping I see people I was at school with. Fat, bald with an ugly moaning missus, ungrateful kids and their childhood dreams in tatters. Having been the sickly speccy put upon kid who took all their shit but ended up having quite an “interesting in it’s own way” kind of life, I can’t help but have a quiet laugh at their expense. Our “big cheese” from school who was always chucking his weight about and bragging about his impending career as a drummer in a rock band has spent the last 35 years as a Postman. Heheheh! The cunt….
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Worst nightmare I can imagine is finding out the Chas C is an old school friend and does a “gig” for you.
ARRRRGH
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I presume you posted this on here because I showed him how to block trolls from his web site – and now you can’t post over there ?
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Dioclese you will persist in bating me….It was your choice to ban me after a couple of years and hundreds of posts on your site without mentioning what your problem with me was.
You hadn’t the bollocks to post about it but took the cowards way of changing websites to stop me posting.
Your choice- wrong choice, cos I would have happily gone without you doing that.
As for Chas C….his singing has stopped any posts on his blog for years now….I admire him for persisting despite the shite he produces.
I will post on this site as I choose to…so FUCK YOU.
Rickie
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“I will post on this site as I choose to” ? Not any more, pal…
Bye!
(Incidentally, I gather Chas just got his first royalty cheque last week, so somebody buys it)
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Good song by Chas C.
I wouldn’t call him a cunt at all.
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Funnily enough Chas wrote “Counting Cunts in Cromer” with Rickie in mind. The bloke lives in Norfolk. Probably explains the saying “Normal for Norfolk”? I suppose it was our own fault for encouraging him…
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Nomination: Bargain Hunt
Bargain Hunt is a cunt. The BBC should do the decent thing and rename their lunchtime show Bargain Cunt.
Wonacott rarely fucking shows up these days, apparenlty because he’s had a row with the producers so they’ve booted him off the gravy train. I wonder if he twatted one of them like Clarkson (allegedly) did? Hope so, they probably deserved it. I think the real reason is because he’s busy helping the BBC rip off their other show (Antiques Roadshow vs Road trip, either way it’s fucking boring) or he’s at home dyeing his barnett an ever darker shade of ‘Raven’s Feather’ black…
So now we have to put up with the so-called array of ‘experts’ whose attempts at replicating Wonacott’s lively patter generally translates as bouncing around and grinning like they’ve shat a Faberge egg whilst managing to consistently buy any old shit for more money than anybody else will ever pay for it. There’s got to be some back-handers afoot here (it is the BBC)… I saw one show when a fucking dealer turned up at the auction and bought his own item back, for about £20 less than the contestants had paid him for it! Does the Beeb expect me to believe that this inner circle of junk-shop merchants aren’t all in it together? It all seems pretty fucking chummy to me.
Money for old rope. Literally.
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I always get it mixed up with “Cash In The Attic”, which I think is the one with that orange Dickinson cunt who thinks that he’s Ian (Lovejoy) McShane…
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Ha! Old Dicko! “Ompaa, loompa, doom-pa-de-do…”
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Interesting parentage David Dickinson has, his Mother is an old oak tree off the M6 and his father is Peter Stringfellow.
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Indeed!
It’s like when some hussy is found hanging in the woods – people are tripping over-themselves to praise the corpse.
It usually turns out the troubled ‘angel’ was s dirty little drug slag who had 4 off-colour abortions before the age of 13 (when its tubes rotted off with chlamydia and syphilis and gonorrhoea and warts and scabs and lice – the usual stuff in a slags cunt) was expelled from school for stabbing teachers, had routinely robbed pensioners, was a shop-lifter, and had obscene DIY tattoos on her 60-fags-a-day leatherette face.
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Fuck off reunited smacks of all those gravestones you see with the immortal phrase ‘together again’ – when they really been knocking shit out of each other ever since walking down the aisle. In reality they literally wouldn’t have been seen dead together were it not for some meddlesome vicar. Or a fucking voyeur, oops, meant to say counsellor.
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