If we ever do get out of Europe all that poncy foreign muck'll be outlawed mind! - Boiled beef and cabbage will become mandatory and anyone trying to sex it up with poncy herbs will end up tasting nothing more than the leather of the Doc Marten of one of Conducator Farage's Revolutionary Guards - ya feckin big poncy ponce you are!
'Seems that I was busy doing something close to nothing
But different than the day before'
'Met a dwarf that was no good, dressed like Little Red Riding Hood'
'Now you're unemployed, all non-void
Walkin' round like you're Pretty Boy Floyd'
Proper foie gras. Smeared on thick. {Duck generally. Because 1. And old raver mate makes it outside Toulouse. Built my speakers*, too. 2. I'm a skint pleb who can't justify paying the goose premium any more.} So the cruton is basically a cube of which one side is toast and the other is foie gras.
Please try. I'd be honoured if I could show you something that improved one of your dishes in the same way you've helped some of mine.
*Monitors. 15" bass driver and 1.25" compression horn. Active and passive crossover. 1/2kw each. Sounds great with my 1kw amp. But they sounded even better when I used the 3k bass amp I'd used to power the 3 x 18" bass scoops I got off the Jiba sound system. But some theiving wop knicked the scoops and the bass amp off our traveller site in Anzio when we all went to Spain to do a festy outside Barca. Wops = ****s, mostly. I only impart this info to try and find whether we have any secret ravers amongst us. Or secret wops.
Last edited by Ganpati's Goonerz--AFC's Aboriginal Fertility Cult; 03-21-2019 at 07:22 PM.
Nah.
I went to one not far from Berni's though. And on my only occasion that I represented the old place at sport, I turned over his school's team at their gaff in the under 14s B-team rugby. Scrum half, me. I'm tiny for a rugby player.
Played club rugby for the old boys' team's youth sections. We called his lot Old Wives. Whitgift, see? I guess that's public school humour. The one down the road from him is called Trinity. Or Mid-Whitgift. So they were called Old Mid Wives.
Bet your sides are splitting, Herbs. You can see why I told mummy and daddy that if they didn't put me in the state sector after o-levels, I'd run off and join the PLO. {Sexiest headscarfs. Didn't care much about the politics.}
But if you wanna pîss off B, go to the Whitgift [shopping] Centre in Croydon. I've seen more civilisation in Haitian slums. Then pretend you thought he'd gone to school there.
Do they still have Alders dept. store?
"Scoring a goal is better than sex" - Whoever said that was sticking it to the wrong woman