No, I don’t mean Beckham
It’s the giant cheese grater he’s holding aloft
Posted on May 17, 2012 at 7:09 pm in Forum, humor, sport | RSS feed
Just for the record; I am sick of hearing about:-
The European Championships
Rio ‘Duhh’ Ferdinand
John ‘Racist twat’ Terry
Just wait until Wimbledon starts, and I’ll add Andy Murray to the list.
…and another thing, or two.
How mad is that? You sack a manager who has reached two cup finals, winning one of them, and left you eighth in the league, only to interview a bloke who has won fuck all, finished fifteenth in the league, and who has escaped relegation by the skin of his fore teeth for the second season running.
So, you’re obviously looking forward to Her Majesty The Queen’s Golden Jubilee Celebrations then, Nobbly….?
I’d already blanked that one from my mind. Thanks for the reminder.
That must have taken a big fucking effort. Sorry.
By God, nobbly, but you’re lovely when you’re angry !
What am I like, when I’m being obsequious?
I’ll let you know when I’ve looked it up.
According to my search, you’re lower than a snake’s belly.
So, what are you, hmm?
Now I have to go and look up who Eric Pickles is. On second thoughts, you can do it for me.
NOW ! ! !
Eric Pickles is the minister for local government, former mayor of Bradford, I think. Religious weirdo.
Remember Cyril Smith?
Well, similar body shape.
Always the butt (there’s that word again) of jokes about food and gluttony (a lot like Prescott, come to think of it) on comedy/news programmes such as have I got News for fuck’s sake, ratty, get a satellite dish!
A mole. (But don’t tell anybody).
“Have I got News for Fuck’s Sake.” No, can’t say I’ve seen it.
By the way, Duncan. I don’t think it is a cheese grater, I think it’s one of those things for removing hard skin and corns from your feet.
yes, I use mine for that too
What, your cheesegrater?
Wasn’t it modelled on Eric Pickles’s liver?
. . . and I have to say that I am proud, PROUD dammit, to be British. To be part of a Nation that has been honoured with hosting the, errm, London Olymics.
Rah, Rah, Huzzah !
I thought you were Cornish… and proud to be so.
Or are you now no longer cornish after scraping at them with your olympic-torch-cheese-grater-thing?
Don’t be disgusting, nobbly. And you can pack it in too, stickybud.
I’ll have you know that, though I’m Cornish, I’m also descended from Spanish aristocracy.
So, a little more respect if you don’t mind.
More like El Cig than El Cid, I reckon.
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