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And will you fondle my bum?
As I recall these were excuses for avoiding prosecution. Anyone ever used them? |
whatever you are on barry, i want some.
got to be the most bonkers thread yet! |
Avoiding prosecution for what, though???
Eels and bums? Call me old-fashioned but they don't really seem to go together, in my (admittedly limited) experience of these things. I'd love to learn more though!!! |
Do I undersssstand this post more because I’ve just come inffrom the pub?
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No, these were extracts from the Hungarian phrase book used in a tobacconists.
What are you after, 20 Rothmans or directions to the Post Office. As I recall his reply to caution was "My nipples explode with delight", don't think that'll help your case either! |
Depends on the prosecutor ...
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A couple of herons in your Hovercraft wil sort out the eels... or just keep taking the large blue tablets!
Dave |
I'm curious, did your father smell of elderberries?
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"Do you want to come back to my place, a bouncy bouncy?" This has never failed me yet. Must ba a WPC though!
Otis. |
If in doubt, of course there is always the old faithful:
"Drop your panties, Sir William, I cannot wait till lunchtime." Rarely fails to placate the local constabulary. And, if for some unknown reason, they still seem intent upon booking you, then there's always the lobster thermidor aux crevettes with a mornay sauce garnished with truffle pate, brandy and a fried egg on top with spam. Lovely spam! Wonderful spam!......spam, spam, spam, spam, spam... STOP THAT! IT'S SILLY..... |
What a wonderfully sureal thread. I particularly like the suggestion of a couple of Herons to rid your hovercraft of those troublesome eels http://bbs.scoobynet.co.uk/smile.gif http://bbs.scoobynet.co.uk/smile.gif http://bbs.scoobynet.co.uk/smile.gif
You may avoid prosecution for traffic offences if you use your Hungarian phrase book, but you will almost certainly soon be the proud owner of one of those comfy white coats with the wrap around sleeves that tie behind the back!. Alex Alex |
Oh look, Alex and Alex have both signed!
I am not Schizophrenic, and neither am I! I don't suppose his mother was a hampster? Moray |
Is anybody a member of the Judean People's Front ?
Yex (ducking away from inevitable bad language http://bbs.scoobynet.co.uk/wink.gif) |
SPLITTER!
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No, im in the peoples front of judea you barstuard.
NICK, NICK |
TUNGSTEN CARBIDE DRILL?
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Stop it ! This is getting far too silly.
Now where did I put that parrot http://bbs.scoobynet.co.uk/wink.gif Yex |
Now this is getting very silly! http://www.bullhonkie.com/images/emoticons/38.gif
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Well that’s the kind of blinkered pig ignorant response I have come to expect from you non-creative garbage.
You sit there on your loathsome spotty behinds squeezing black-heads, not caring a tinkers cuss for the struggling artist! You excrement, you whining hypercritical toadies, with your Tony Jacklin golf clubs and your bleedin Masonic secret handshakes... You wouldn't let me join would you? You Blackballing bar-stewards... Well I wouldn't become a freemason now if you went down on your lousy stinking knees and begged me ! P.S. I nearly got in at Hendon P.P.S I've got a second hand apron! |
Anyone for a sherbit lemon ???
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Yes, I quite agree with you, I mean what's the point of being treated like sheep, I mean I'm fed up of going abroad and being treated like sheep, what's the point of being carted round in buses, surrounded by sweaty mindless oafs from Kettering and Boventry in their cloth caps and their cardigans and their transistor radios and their 'Sunday Mirrors', complaining about the tea, 'Oh they don't make it properly here do they not like at home' stopping at Majorcan bodegas, selling fish and chips and Watney's Red Barrel and calamares and two veg and sitting in cotton sun frocks squirting Timothy White's suncream all over their puffy raw swollen purulent flesh cos they 'overdid it on the first day'!....
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….And being herded into endless Hotel Miramars and Bellevueses and Bontinentals with their international luxury modern roomettes and their Watney's Red Barrel and their swimming pools full of fat German businessmen pretending to be acrobats and forming pyramids and frightening the children and barging in to the queues and if your not at the table spot on seven you miss your bowl of Campbell's Cream of Mushroom soup, the first item on the menu of International Cuisine, and every Thursday night there's bloody cabaret in the bar featuring some tiny emaciated dago with nine-inch hips and some big fat bloated tart with her hair Brylcreemed down and a big arse presenting Flamenco for Foreigners....
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….And then some adenoidal typists from Birmingham with diarrhoea and flabby white legs and hairy bandy-legged wop waiters called Manuel, and then, once a week there's an excursion to the local Roman ruins where you can buy cherryade and melted ice cream and bleedin' Watney's Red Barrel, and then one night they take you to a local restaurant with local colour and colouring and they show you there and you sit next to a party of people from Rhyl who keep singing 'Torremolinos, Torremolinos', and complaining about the food, 'Oh! It's so greasy isn't it?' and then you get cornered by some drunken greengrocer from Luton with an Instamatic and Dr Scholl sandals and Tuesday's 'Daily Express' and he drones on and on and on about how Mr Smith should be running this country and how many languages Enoch Powell can speak and then he throws up all over the Cuba Libres…..
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….And sending tinted postcards of places they don't know they haven't visited, 'to all at number 22, weather wonderful for room is marked with an 'X'. Wish you were here. Food very greasy but we have managed to find this marvellous little place hidden away in the back streets. Where you can even get Watney's Red Barrel and cheese and onion crisps and the accordionist plays "Maybe its because I'm a Londoner"' and spending four days on the tarmac at Luton airport on a five-day package tour with nothing to eat but dried Watney's sandwiches….
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….And there's nowhere to sleep and the kids are vomiting and throwing up on the plastic flowers and they keep telling you it'll only be another hour although your plane is still in Iceland waiting to take some Swedes to Yugoslavia before it can pick you up on the tarmac ar 3a.m. in the bloody morning and you sit on tarmac till six because of 'unforseen difficulties', i.e. the permanent strike of Air Traffic Control in Paris, and nobody can go to the lavatory until you take off at eight, and when you get to Malaga airport everybody's swallowing Enterovioform tablets and queueing for the toilets and when you finally get to the hotel there's no water in the bog and there's only a bleeding lizard in the bidet, and half the rooms are double-booked and you can't sleep anyway….
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.....and the Spanish Tourist Board promises you that the raging cholera epidemic is merely a case of mild Spanish tummy, like the last outbreak of Spanish tummy in 1660 that killed half of London and decimated Europe, and meanwhile the bloody Guardia are busy arresting sixteen-year-olds for kissing in the street and shooting anyone under nineteen who doesn't like Franco....
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