Who Do You Follow ( Football )
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From: MY00,MY01,RX-8, Alfa 147 & Focus ST :-)
Yex
Just read your original post - bloody cheek. I'll have you know that's a lovely mascot (and we take turns wearing it
).
I'm amazed we've even got a team!
Cheers
Chris
Just read your original post - bloody cheek. I'll have you know that's a lovely mascot (and we take turns wearing it
).I'm amazed we've even got a team!
Cheers
Chris
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Posts: 8,626
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From: Class record holder at Pembrey Llandow Goodwood MIRA Hethel Blyton Curborough Lydden and Snetterton
This tourist was wandering around the back alleys of London's East End
one day when he bumps into an old antique shop. It's like an antique shop from
one of those old Hammer Horror films, and the bloke behind the counter is a
dead ringer for Peter Cushing. Anyway, while browsing through the objects on
display he discovers a detailed, life-sized bronze sculpture of a rat. The
sculpture is so interesting and unique that he picks it up and asks the shop owner what
it costs. "Ten pounds for the rat, sir," says the shop owner, "and a
hundred pounds more for the story behind it." "A hundred quid?" says the tourist,
baffled. ”You can keep the story, old man, but I'll take the rat."
The transaction complete, the tourist leaves the shop with the bronze
rat under his arm. But as he crosses the street in front of the store, two live
rats emerge from a sewer drain and fall into step behind him. Nervously
looking over his shoulder, he begins to walk faster. But every time he passes
another drain, more rats come flooding out and follow him. By the time he's walked
about half a mile, at least a hundred rats are at his heels, and people begin to
point and shout. He walks even faster, and soon breaks into a trot as multitudes
of rats swarm from sewers, basements, vacant sites and abandoned cars. Rats by
the thousands are at his heels, and as he sees the docks at the bottom of
the hill, he panics and starts to run full tilt.
But no matter how fast he runs, the rats keep up, squealing hideously, now not
just thousands but what seem like millions, so that by the time he
comes rushing up to the water's edge a huge trail of rats is behind him. Making a
mighty leap, he jumps up onto a lamp-post, grasping it with one arm while he hurls
the bronze rat into the Thames with the other, as far as he can heave it. Pulling
his legs up and clinging to the lamp-post, he watches in amazement as the
seething tide of rats surges over the breakwater into the Thames's murky waters,
where they drown.
Shaken and mumbling, he makes his way back to the antique shop. "Ah, so
you've come back for the rest of the story," says the owner. "No," says the
tourist, "I was wondering if you have a bronze Man United supporter
Ho ho. (I'm sure you lot can take it)
Justin
P.S. Chris it must be my turn now, you've had it long enough
one day when he bumps into an old antique shop. It's like an antique shop from
one of those old Hammer Horror films, and the bloke behind the counter is a
dead ringer for Peter Cushing. Anyway, while browsing through the objects on
display he discovers a detailed, life-sized bronze sculpture of a rat. The
sculpture is so interesting and unique that he picks it up and asks the shop owner what
it costs. "Ten pounds for the rat, sir," says the shop owner, "and a
hundred pounds more for the story behind it." "A hundred quid?" says the tourist,
baffled. ”You can keep the story, old man, but I'll take the rat."
The transaction complete, the tourist leaves the shop with the bronze
rat under his arm. But as he crosses the street in front of the store, two live
rats emerge from a sewer drain and fall into step behind him. Nervously
looking over his shoulder, he begins to walk faster. But every time he passes
another drain, more rats come flooding out and follow him. By the time he's walked
about half a mile, at least a hundred rats are at his heels, and people begin to
point and shout. He walks even faster, and soon breaks into a trot as multitudes
of rats swarm from sewers, basements, vacant sites and abandoned cars. Rats by
the thousands are at his heels, and as he sees the docks at the bottom of
the hill, he panics and starts to run full tilt.
But no matter how fast he runs, the rats keep up, squealing hideously, now not
just thousands but what seem like millions, so that by the time he
comes rushing up to the water's edge a huge trail of rats is behind him. Making a
mighty leap, he jumps up onto a lamp-post, grasping it with one arm while he hurls
the bronze rat into the Thames with the other, as far as he can heave it. Pulling
his legs up and clinging to the lamp-post, he watches in amazement as the
seething tide of rats surges over the breakwater into the Thames's murky waters,
where they drown.
Shaken and mumbling, he makes his way back to the antique shop. "Ah, so
you've come back for the rest of the story," says the owner. "No," says the
tourist, "I was wondering if you have a bronze Man United supporter
Ho ho. (I'm sure you lot can take it)
Justin
P.S. Chris it must be my turn now, you've had it long enough
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