ChildeHarold

I have to remind LCS that any nom offering the slightest criticism of the Johnson dynasty, questioning the sanity of Brexit or offers any political viewpoint from slightly left of centre dies a quick and easy death on this ultra right wing bordering on imbecilic fascist site.

"Travelling to France holds no appeal". The utterance of a servile peasant.

This site = a smart motorway without a hard shoulder (can you believe it?)

"The standards keep getting lower and lower. " How come they have been saying that since forever! Surely the standards are same, it's just the cavalcade that keeps rearranging itself.

My 7 o'clock in the winter morning on Whitechapel tube platform Metropolitan City Line was brightened by a nice crisp £20 note.

Sounds good.

The endless cycle, all day every day. The prison yard circle. The hamster wheel. The early morning tube Whitechapel Station. The fly and the maggot. Can't beat it.

Sign outside restaurant "Great Food and Friendly Conversation" Lovely meal, sausages, onions and mash. Asked the waiter "Great - what's the friendly conversation?" "Don't have the sausages."

Based on a real life experience in a Peloponnese mountain village.

What a relief!

Bbbaaarrrrhhh

Straight choice for breakfast: sheeps head poached or omelette? I know what I'd like after a good night's sleep on a peasants stone floor.

You remind me of that stomach upset that drags on for a few days after eating really poor quality sausages from Morrisons and you gulp down half a bottle of Milj of Magnesia, then two hours later after a bit of gurgling, a wave of toilet energency hits your arse, and you sit on the bowl and woosh, lije an avalanche it all comes out, and then it takes half hour to clean up the toilet bowl and wash your arse, and then you feel a greatvdeal of relief and the stomach pain has gone, andcthen you think I will buy another bottle of Milk of Magnesia just to be on the safw side from Morrisons but I won't go near their sausages. And that's a promise.

You're one of those weird cunts who can't settle on a stable avatar. Do you come from a broken family? Disturbed childhood?

I've seen that face before... in a Greek fridge next to a tray of eggs. They say the eyeballs are a delicacy.

Is that the "I'm right - you're wrong" grunt of satisfaction as per Daimler Vandam Plas V6 driver wearing pig skin driving gloves versus Ford Escort MkII.

I fink there I am (Google translate?)

I like Newton Abbot, genuine market town with cattle market, unlike much of the floozy West Country. Best Western hotel is total shit. The Center Parcs experience probably beat my Welsh experience of renting a cottage near Cadar Idris. They charged extra for use of an ironing board. Each piece of coal in the outside scuttle was numbered. It rained every day. When one finallt arrived at the peak in a sopping bundle you couldn't see your own hand let alone have a view of the glorious Welsh countryside. Same for the Malverns. I would like to die in a rented solitary caravan abandoned on the Northumberland coast between Berwick and Lindisfarne, railing against St Cuthbert and re-enacting the first scene from Polanski's film of Macbeth playing all three witches at once.

Billy you really should calm down it's just an advert.

Christmas log - I see you’re already dreaming about the annual visit to Santa's warm and cosy Lapland.

Going back to the hedge benders of Devon did you get to the coast?

Their Arc De Triomphe is bigger than our Wellington Arch, but we have The Archers.

How the fuck did somebody start Billy on the Iranians who are a million light years removed from the Cherchyna arseholes who seem to be another well founded proxy terrorist group of the West.

Those dogging days... ah the memories!

I used to get mine at Davy's Wine Bar in Greenwich. But I can't digest the lead shot now.