...never gonna give you up, let you down, run around or desert you... I know I said I wasn't bothered about what happens at RFC till the current incumbents are shown the door, but **** sake, only they ****s could make it worse. No amounts of my own "meh" and "sook ma arse gravy" can conceal ma real beel Seriously, shoot RFC in the heid and have done with all this never ending pish. I'll go further, if RFC by some miracle hit the top ever again I'll still no be interested. One too many **** ups is too much. I'll always have F1 and my beloved Hamilton FC
...never gonny give you up, let you down, run around or desert you.. Sorry for the ellipsis, I know you don't like them...
Every weekend. This is the benefit of having a fuddy (**** buddy) as opposed to a wife and/or girlfriend. Plus ma fuddy is a damn fine cook.
Astley and I used to work on the production line at Peak Freans' Biscuits in Towcester. Back then he was just plain, old Malcom Honeydew, and the only singing he did was while we boxed up packets of Lemon Puffs. He got the bullet after six months; his catastrophic error led to 55 packets of Garibaldis being sent to Great Dunmow instead of Great Wakering. Below is a picture of me and the gang, sans Astley (Honeydew). please log in to view this image