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I'd be first in line for a late 18th Century reproduction strap blackened wood carved one to chuck at John Terry next time i see him at the Peterboat leigh on sea with his mates.
...if live to see a future where mankind procreates by rubbing its hind legs over a royal jelly compound enslaved by Alien sexless entities in their xenomorph cubed pleasure hives, nourishing human pupae to a harsh beat of shamanic tonal resonations at the behest of those very same sexless alien entities... I'll never witness a bigger cu nts trumpet to ever walk this earth than you.
you can do better baz i'm counting on you stumpy, i know i fkn well can.
at least we're not confronted with your estrogen pumped waxen medicine ball head in the avatar anymore. you look like you should be pushing the tea urn on E wing for the double denim sex cases. Giving limp blow jobs to the Daddy of the wing with his scott tracey thunderbird lips in exchange for a £2 phone card.
I'd rather shag yasmin alibhai-brown's 1976 john toschack barnet than see you on here every day jutting your chin out like mussolini in the back of his kubelwagen looking down on everyone like there something you shat out into a mother care plastic shitpot
well dont dish it out then if you doint like it back.
You're not some Woodward and Bernstein deep throat expose super soldier on here, always dishing out your daily slow motion riot of political mantra to any c unt on here still left awake. You're a Morning Star politburo night-school hack in a heavily spunk rotted raincoat and Lacy suspenders.
A cheka berftie smalls. A grubby little paper shuffling schlieffen plan eunuch. Probably with a pickled onion small holding sourced from your allotment.
Forever Bio spliced in Molecular level mind-meld with the Momentum information tesseract, acting as it's conduit, you regurgitate their sanctioned data, flow charts , venn diagrams and demented text flowing through your fingertips onto the lenovo laptop keypad, and ultimately, LFW , letting some poor sap who only logged on to find out the latest JCS injujry news, the national annual GDP of the peoples republic of Benin.(That was a stone cold classic lol)
Please Fly back to the ramparts of Momentum HQ for a month or 12 and give us all time to have a bowel movement before another lecture on the great baltic state wheat famine of 1947.
There you go again. Flicking the switch Igor on posts i made 11 years ago or fishing around on my twitter account like an amyl nitrate soaked sex fiend with GHB priapism Headfirst in a skip In the breezeblock back yard of an Old Compton Street sex shop. Frantically searching for soiled gussets, stray pubes, and a fleurs-de-lys strap-on to sniff, seeking out the tatty trinkets and baubles to lay before your Politruck Superiors for a tickle on the tummy and a handful of Kibble.
You seem the sort of bloke who would inform on his neighbours for playing imperalist decadent chuck berry on their bulb transistor Radio through the thin paper walls of their Motorenwerk state owned prefabrication asbestos hovel. probably for party advancement and an extra cup of GDR pea flour Kaffe Mix coffee substitute before his shift at the factory producing time and motion studies of his comrades greasing hydraulic nipples in a tractor factory.
East Ham-Newbury park- Chadwell heath- Hornchurch- Brentwood- North Chingford -Leigh on sea. If he uses the broadway pub or the Constitutional club ,our paths must have crossed for sure.
If Andy wants to make himself known to me for a pint, I've gone from looking like Gary webster from 'Minder' in my 20's and 30's to 'Grouty' from 'Porridge' in my 50's.
Yep great memories.!. my first pint of double diamond was knocked back in the club while dancing around 3 sheets to Col Abrahams 'Trapped'. My Uncle Kenny Bell was the manager for a few years until it was knocked down in 2019 , he was also interviewed by Panorama about the club!
According to Kenny and his Jazzmen, it has reopened again this year built under a new block of flats which was stipulated in the contract for the rebuild.
It won't be the same of course.. all that local history and culture entombed under souless Taylor Wimpey breezeblock meccano and legoland.
It kills me to see what men in chalk stripe suits and yellow coats have done to the Boleyn Ground.
Never met a QPR supporter in 8 years of living in Leigh on Sea!
Could have been a world champion but for damage to his right hand which by the time he fought Sibson, could barely throw in anger without pain.
Huge West Ham and ICF Following back in the day and would often be seen down our local east ham working mans club, at the back of the Boleyn, shadow boxing with the kids and had time for everyone young and old , always with half a lager in his hand, Terry McCann style.
A gentleman. and old school to the bone.
i slung this up on twitter when i heard about this awful news yesterday, Forget the fight... It's all about mark meeting his new born son for the first time the morning after the tony sibson fight.
I get up at 5.30am every saturday to listen to 'Sounds of the 60's with Tony Blackburn. it's a comforting back to childhood thing for me which is my only real time of solitude in the week.
Anyway , Angela Griffin is on before tonys 6am show and she played this track which has been transfixed into my ganglia all week. non stop.
first time he played it live. On the howard stern radio show.
Our London Derby record at home and away over the last 10/15 years makes us look bigger cuckolds than John Bercow hiding in the wicker laundry basket watching his wife taking a shower With Dj Clinton Oliver and Paddy Docherty.
Apologies to the frankie whattsapp group last night, i was sunk to the nuts on 8 pints of mahou and given myself piles. i've been slapping the anusol on with a plastering float.
Moving swiftly on.. i've been tearing the arse out of this early Brit funk classic. The bassline baby..
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