what a day for a daydream
I've just popped the lid on a LP. The weekend has now begun.
On a delayed train from London with a pair of posh dicks sat behind me slating amongst other things the North. Fuck off then lads.
It's at those kind of moments SA I love having a broad Lanarkshire accent which makes even saying thanks into so kind of threat. I probably would have told them to fuck off.
I find it scarily easy to lapse into my London council-estate voice when delivering a good FARK ORF to someone.Luckily I haven't had to use that power for many years.
Plugged mp3 player in and drowned the twats out.
The only problem with the Ghandi solution is that the bawbags don't realise that at least one other person on the train has their mark.
Incidentally - for those of you who were wondering - I'm afraid that the answer to the question 'Where's Bill Grundy Now?' is, now...dead.
Don't think anybody cares Davy
I care! We always watched the Today show in my house. Thinking about that programme made me remember that Monty Modlyn showed up at our Silver Jubilee street party. Remember him?Now there's a can of Speckled Hen and a movie with the kids waiting for me. Cheerio.