Not a dry eye in the house.
(it's a slow day.)
Don't mind me, I just like to sing this next one when I'm pressing my simmits.
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47 comments:
Surely you should steam your simmits, Maroon?
Oh Maroon, do you remember the Alex Harvey version?
c'mere, sugar! (actually, carry ya'll's sweet self over to the plantation and have a good laugh!) i promise ya'll will smile again! xoxox
(additionally, thank goodness for the dictionary.co.uk:
Noun: scottish word for vest or undergarment
Example: put your simmit on ye or you will catch yer death out there
Region: Glasgow and the West - Class: Fashion)
Culture, history, and a fish supper, all in the same day. Nae bother at all.
Thank you Savannah for the translation
My PC published without me pressing [or steaming] anything... daft thing...
Sx
Scarlet, hen.. is that not you all over? You always finish before you know it, regardless of what buttons you press.
Shall we blame it on your usual muffin?
This whole milieu is riddled with people finishing too fast. It is like a hideous contagion.
Oh Savannah thank you for that. Some times I feel like a stranger in a foreign land but I do like a bit of brogue.
Well, a slow finish can be a bit of an anti-climax.
Sx
well, scarlet, isn't a slow finish perfect after a climax? xoxox
;o)
Sx
Who said anything about slow finishes? It's rapid finishes I was decrying. And I was actually talking about the rushed ending of The Impossible Dream. Alex Harvey dragged his out to the bitter end. And let no-one gainsay me.
Clarissa, good old Vambo. Silly old Tomahawk Kid that he was.
Next!
Oh did you know, that eight of the nine Masterchef finalists of the past three years have gone on to carve out a career as a chef, restaurateur or food writer. What? You’re shitting me. How can they possibly become food writers?
Least said about Harvey come to think about it. He sould maybe have dragged it out a bit quicker the old shitehawk.
You MUST be mistaken, Maroon! You can't just walk into that sort of role (or roll, seeing as it's a food-related gig hahahaha) because you've managed to make a meek soup and silence the shouty Australian one.
Sorry, we crossed.
What exactly do you mean? About Alex Harvey, that is. Dragged what out? Some of his performances went on for hours; we often used to miss the last bus home. He was ludicrously popular in the Thames Valley.
Clarissa, exactement!
Who do they thing they are telling us what food to eat and where to eat it?
So sorry everyone, that sould read,"Who do they THINK they are comma, telling us what food to eat and where to eat it.
Thank you.
I don't mind being told what to eat and where to eat it, but I want to hear it from someone with intelligence and grace. And humour. And chutzpah. I don't want to hear it from some reality-show runner-up who grinds out some pedestrian prose which has obviously been blue-pencilled by an embittered sub-editor.
I'm overjoyed when someone tells me what to eat and where. It means I don't need to cook.
Depends, Eryl. Last summer I was told to eat at the Fat Duck in Bray, and found myself facing down a plate of nitro-scrambled eggs with leather jus, snail porridge and a carrot ice-lolly. £119 a head. I wouldn't mind if someone told me to sit at my kitchen table and eat some kneidlach. But they never do. Gits.
Why not sit at a kitchen table and eat some kneidlach?
Then perhaps some gum freezing vinegar wine?
Thank you, I will. Or perhaps egg-and-cress sangwidges at a grimesome pub? Or a frankly eccentric collection of snackery from a tiny table? And always with gumfreezer.
Bon. You have chosen well.
Um, care for an advokaat and brandy with American ginger ale? Very fortifying, most excellent nightcap?
Eryl, what is that thing? Is it a potato; what's that all about?
and i'm sure your voice is just as rich and velvety and baritone as his.
Sarah, Sarah, Sarah. The truth will out. The authentic voice of Maroon is no more than a dockyard yowl, interspersed with a mirthless laugh. Ask Kim Ayres.
Mrs. Pouncer - you assume i am fawning over Maroon, rather than mocking him.
(he knows the truth)
*snickering*
(ok, i had a long entyr here, but fortunatley, good sense beat out drunk commenting.)
sweet jaysus!
entry
fortunately
xoxoxxo
Sarah, I assume nothing! It's just that I have been on the receiving end.
God it's the truth, my voice is awful. I should say my singing voice, lets not hide our talent under the widow's mite
The recieving end of what, Clarissa my lovely?
You cannot possibly be talking about my habit of singing showstoppers around the place? I am sure you approve of that and of my prowess at the quickstep and cha cha cha.
You love it, you know you do.
Sarah, I wouldn't say but you are right! I am a baritone as it so happens and Savannah never let drunkeness stop you commenting. We shall be the arbiters no-one else. It's a house rule - anything goes.
i before e except in Leicestershire, Maroon.
Well, yes, but I don't know whether that strict tempo stuff suits you. Your fishtailing nearly had us flat on our backs during the practice session. More resin on your soles, I think.
Help, sorry Clarissa, when I said cha cha cha I meant the dance not Gorilla Bananas' word for a lady's chuff, I mean parts I mean flower.
Christ I'm digging a hole here, With A 'W' Whole! The whole thing is just a drunken misunderstanding and we'll say no more about it.
Phew!
Gather...
It's so heart warming to see that some of you young folk hit the wrong key occasionally. Good practice for when you are older when you will learn to live with it, cease to apologise and half the time not even notice it.
we crossed! shit
Slipperine!
That's the stuff. It's white powder and it's sprinkled over the boards!
Ignore the last comment, my blogger accopunt is compromised. It's Ayres.
I before e, I know that.
Buggeration! Pat sorry. WE crossed too. Do not read the last comment, I am tryin to find the villain of the piece, don't say piece Tristram, it's sangwidge.
You can't squash me, Maroon. This afternoon I was at Boyo's discussing how I might one day chachacha with Meir Dagan. Probably to the Joe Loss orchestra. I am confident that I will be asked to undertake Special Work for Mossad before I'm much older, and a bit of foxtrotting never goes amiss with the good people of Armageddon South.
Yeah, well fine.
I know where Boyo lives.
Anyway, nobody foxtrots like me, you said so yourself and as for MOSSAD, I think we both know we're not meant to mention them among the gentiles (no offence everyone) I'm just saying. I think it's time for a case conference.
OK. Come to an adjacent room.
one never discusses so openly the work one does in the desert in the dark
or so i've been told.
too many films.
too many drinks.
too much of everything.
and nothing.
heh. heh. heh. i figured out why i miss smoking. it was the deep breaths that i took throughout the day.
i shall try to just take deep breaths and see if that does the trick. doubt it, i'll end up gaining 50 pounds and having a heart attack.
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