Read a lot tonight, there’s a lot of stuff going on.
and snuff!! pass the bag around man I need a hit!
Looked like a piano keyboard without the order, chopsticks would have been a bugger.
She were a Moonraker from my home town.
I like these stairs.
did they have female moonrakers then?
https://s10.postimg.org/jcxvyry0p/lifemoon1.jpg
Down Vizes way zom years agoo,
When smuggal’n wur nuthen new,
An people wurden nar bit shy,
Of who they did their sperrits buy.
In a village liv’d a publican,
Whi kept an Inn, The Pelican,
A man he wur, a man a merrit
An his neam wur Ikey Perritt.
Ael roun about tha country voke
Tha praise of thease yer landlard spoke;
Var wen any on’em wur took bad,
They knaw’d wur sperrits could be had;
An daly it wur nice an handy,
At tha Pelican to get yer brandy.
Twer zwold as chep as tis in Vrance,
Tho a course, twer done in iggerance.
didn’t know yiz kid speaks like dat fruitcake - prefer nutcakes meself !
Whul no, thur ridginal Moonrakerz were menz, bu’ they was marrid to locaw wimmins az zupportez em, an’ they a-come loike thur menz, zo technically they wuz Moonrakerz az whull, thee snow.
Whoilzt I be ridgnally a Moonraaakur, I dun moved a Zumerzet a-cause a zurtain young Zumerzet mizz an cuzzin a-moine asked oi to, zo I maid Zumerzet moi adaaapted ‘ome. One o moi kidz do zpeak Brizzle a-cause ee were borned thur afore us adaapted I’m, an’ tother zpeaks recived pruuncification Ingliesh, bit caaaan zpeak Mumerzet when ee do be waaantin’ us to unnnerstaaan Im, snow.
Roite, them revenuerz am gorn. Anybuddy worn to buy zum cheese?
Strangely,young Mr Fruitcake,one’s offspring-of the female gender-was taken as a child to Plymouth. That was the result of my arriving home A/quietly,as it was 02.45hrs GMT and B/finding one of my drivers [I owned a haulage company at the time] busily-and noisily-pleasuring Mrs Pug in our marital bed. “Hmm” thought I…for I am a man of deep contemplation…“this is somewhat unfortunate”. HE,went through the bedroom window,propelled by what one might well refer to as ‘a spot of annoyance’. ANYWAY…the result of this unfortunate incident was the two of them ‘having it on their toes’ to Plymouth. NO idea why they chose Plymouth,other than it’s several miles from Casa Pug…well,ok,circa 270 miles,give-or-take a yard or two. MNy daughter at the time was 9 years od,with a rather rustic Essex accent. Today,she speaks zorrt urv loik tharrt,bert wutha koinduv brogue yen’d gotta scamie twunnerstaaaan’,y’zee.
Hmm…and the ONE thing my lil girl [coz she’ll ALLUZ be my lil girl] always begins ANY conversation [usually,I might add,via the interwebz thingy] is HOW did I manage to hospitalise scumbags three brothers when they smashed in my front door at 00.15hrs three days after my wife,daughter and that scabby,cowardly,scum-sucking arsewipe [I don’t like him…I do hope it doesn’t show] left for forn parts. Well,ok,Plymouth-but it’s the same thing. I was sat at my kitchen table…which,by chance,was perfect for looking down the long hall to the front door. It suddenly came off it’s mountings,as three chaps intent on harming me came through it. BUT-they were in each others way,y’see. Two hammers and a large knife [I still,to this day,20 years after this incident,have that knife in my kitchen draw…its a good quality bone-handle,y’see. However-when the police arrived,they were all unconscious on the hall floor,various injuries sustained,the knife in question and the two hammers still in THEIR hands. ME? I was sat at my kitchen table doing the crossword they’d so rudely interrupted. BUT…the police arrested MOI!!! NOT the three mongs who’d caved my door in and come a-hooting and a-hollering down my hallway,waving a weapon apiece…no…they arrested ME! The most gentle man on this planet. #sigh#
I was arrested for my “Professional violence”. Yep,you can check the court records - I have,it’s still available. I was found Not Guilty…because A/I am now a civvie-and I’m known for my exceptional gentleness to kittens and grannies and B/there were three of the prats,each with a weapon…and their invasive assault on my front door was captured by my then neighbour’s cctv!
Ok,I admit,they were in Basildon hospital for several weeks,undergoing remedial surgery-but,fukkem. I lost my daughter and my home due to those arse nuggets. [It was burgled while I was in the cells…stripped TOTALLY bare]. They left one broken lightbulb…EVERYTHING was gone,as witnessed by my mate Atillio,who drove me home from the court…
I went after the gutless,spineless twat who stole my motorcycle…found him in A Birmingham pub. But that’s a story you REALLY don’t want to hear. I’ll just say,he-and his spunkmunching gang of wellard biker mates,NEVER will forget the night I walked,unknown to them,into their ‘‘wellards only’’ pub.
Now…you lot may be wondering why I’ve written all this…it’s stuff you didn’t want to know,dont care about,couldn’t give a shit about,have no interest in,etc,etc. Well,I wrote it because I feel like shit,tonight. Tonight,is the anniversary of my grandson dying. I was there,HELPLESS to do anything,as the medics tried over-and-over to save him. He’s buried in the same grave as my other daughter,Ella. Tonight,I just feel like shit. I could let rip and tell you EXACTLY how I smashed those bastards into bits-DESPITE their weapons. But,no point. I just feel like shit. So I thought perhaps playing it out once more over this infernal machine to you all,may help alleviate this DEEP anger swelling within me. Its ALL because that bastard Derek Robinson-a ‘man’ I gave a home AND a job to,was discovered,by me,in the act of f~cking my wife,that this nightmare happened. I can tell you one thing,REGARDLESS of how intelligent you may think yourself to be,that cannot be UN-learned’-and that thing is the combat proficiency one learns and retains,when one is recruited into certain sections of our military forces. And that proficiency can REALLY bugger your life up. I mean,REALLY bugger it up.Ok-I’ve ruined everyone’s day;I’ll bugger off. I truly apologise. LESSON? DON’T be ‘professional’ when protecting yourself,those you love,your possesions-or gumbud:shock:.
well wot can one say ? - I say again wot can one say - it’s a good job you belong to this gentlemans [and one delightful ladies] support group - we are here for you Pugsy - just take ya time and let it all out and then you can move onto the english grammar ; social graces and elocution [sorry meant electrocution] lessons!!
well over to you Sweetie Pie we know he’s broke ya heart!!
Gummy, I didn’t want to disillusion Sweetie, but, us geezers know, there are only Three Steps to Heaven.
That there moon has a lot to answer for 
Between the fifteenth and eighteenth centuries the wool produced from the English County of Wiltshire was known and prized all over Europe because of its superb quality.
Dutch and Flemish merchants had permanent headquarters in the Wiltshire town of Swindon, attracted there by the high profit obtained from the wool trade.
But there was a problem!
The merchant’s favourite tipple was Hollands Gin, but that carried a heavy import duty.
The solution for the Wiltshiremen seemed obvious, they would have to smuggle in the barrels of spirit and so avoid the import duty.
By the mid-sixteenth century they had established a smuggling operation that would run for more than 200 years. The barrels of spirit were landed in quiet coves on the Hampshire coast and brought up to Swindon by night.
The barrels were hidden during the day in church crypts or in village ponds. The green weed in the ponds concealed the barrels beautifully.
Problem solved!!
But one night it all went wrong.
The story is, that in either Bishop Cannings, or All Cannings (two villages reputed to be heavily involved in smuggling), the villagers were raking their kegs out of the village pond when they were surprised by a patrol of Excise men.
The Wiltshire smugglers, with a flash of inspiration, pretended to be idiots, gibbering and grimacing at the Excise men.
They pointed to the moon’s reflection in the pond and told the officials that they were trying to rake out a piece of the moon that had fallen from the sky.
They were so persuasive and acted their parts as ‘mental defectives’ so well that the Excise men just laughed at this example of rustic simplicity and rode on.
Success!!
But Wiltshiremen are called ‘Moonrakers’ to this day!
(credit to Ellen Castelow fur this ere titbit)
but doesn’t that make us off-balance??
I am a Libra, does that help?
You learn something new every day, now I know what a moonraker is.
My remote claim to fame is that my Aunt Betty went to school with Robert Mitchum in the US, she never stopped talking about ‘Bob’ when she visited us in 1956, in her own words he was a “Dreamboat”
Any of you old geezers been a ‘Dreamboat’ in your younger days before yis became sunken wreaks?
One of my old drinking pals (now dead) was a great fan of Lee Marvin, he was working in the Gresham hotel here in Dublin back in the 60’s and Marvin was staying there while working on a film, the director forbid Marvin any booze because there was a very important scene coming up the following day and Marvin was confined to his hotel room, Dinny, my mate the hotel porter was passing the room when he heard Marvin tapping at the locked door, he asked him what he wanted and Marvin said a bottle of Scotch, off went Dinny and came back with a bottle of Bells and a straw, Marvin syphoned the whiskey through the keyhole into a jug inside his room, when he had it all he rolled up a $100 dollar bill and put it out through the keyhole to Dinny who was over the moon as you’d expect.
Before Marvin returned to the US he had a boozing session with Dinny and other staff members in the Brazen Head, the oldest pub in Dublin. I believe it was a night to remember. That’s God truth according to Dinny, and he told the story exactly the same way scores of times so I’d say it’s true.
All the big stars used to stay at the Gresham back then, now it’s used for temporally housing homeless families, amazing how times change.
Pug after reading your post you sound really upset, as Gumbud says what can he say, what can anyone say, I’m so sorry for your grief and hope you manage to cope with it as best you can, we’re all your friends on here and understand.
My missus never called me a ‘Dreamboat’ but she came close to it when I had an argument with her favourite brother, she called me ‘A dozy old tug’
No, no Dreamboat, more of an Argy-Bargy.
Ferry good Spitty.
In the times when James Joyce lived here and got his material for “Portrait of the artist as a young Man” (published in 1916) Dublin had many brothels, especially in the inner city in an area known as “Monto”, Montgomery Street and surrounding Streets, all those old buildings are demolished now.
Joyce was a regular visitor to Monto, (as were a lot of high ranking government officials from Dublin Castle) he was a real Jack the lad when he was young. He was born catholic but later shunned all religion, his Mother, a deeply religious woman, was always pleading with him to confess his sins and return to the church, but it was all in vain.
I was imagining Joyce in a confession box as a young man when this went through my mind.
Bless me dear Father for I have sinned
The bed was big and the lights were dimmed
She beckoned me forward by wagging her finger
I was never very fussy, so I didn’t linger
It wasn’t long before the whole thing was over
So I hopped out of bed and put on me pullover
“It’s cold out there missus, and there’s a heavy dew
I’ll be off now, how much do I owe you?”
“Ten bob, you can leave it under the tea cosy,
By the way, the lads round here all call me Rosie”
Half a weeks wages, all gone in a flash
And now it hurts every time I have a slash.:-)
I suppose the “french letters” were knitted in course Welsh wool in those days and too uncomfortable to use as protection?
french letters through the ages?
me granpa left me his “french letters”
told me to hold and use them well
he said he’d always washed them
in spring water from the well?
I used to like the silk ones
that just slid right through me hands
when I was practicing some special moves
I used elastic bands!!
me uncle left me his as well
said he’d only used them once
they were made of satin
said he’d got them off a ponce??
Me Da said son I found these rubber things
what are they doin in your drawer
I replied well I’ve filled the bathroom cupboard
and there is no room for more??
they’re now a family heirloom
and I’ve passed them to me son
use them well I cautioned him
bum bum bum bum bum bum!!