Wasn’t sure what thread this should go on, but Alex Scott has been talking about a Uber driver threatening to kidnap and kill her, when she was in Russia for World Cup reasons. Scary as ****. https://www.msn.com/en-gb/news/news...-and-warned-i-kill-girls-like-you/ar-AA16vdeM
To judge by some of the opposition forwards at St Marys, they have already been practising between 15:00 and 16:50 on match days
The people of Cambridge have spoken, well 80 of them anyway. You can stuff your plant based food we want animal products. https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-cambridgeshire-64260097
I like vegetarian food because indigestion becomes a problem, so I eat meat but less of it. However, almost any meal is improved by the addition of bacon...except perhaps trifle . Vegan is a step too far...seeing it on a label is a sign to walk on by.
In honour of Robert Burns: Fair fa' your honest, sonsie face, Great chieftain o' the pudding-race! Aboon them a' yet tak your place, Painch, tripe, or thairm: Weel are ye wordy o'a grace As lang's my arm. The groaning trencher there ye fill, Your hurdies like a distant hill, Your pin was help to mend a mill In time o'need, While thro' your pores the dews distil Like amber bead. His knife see rustic Labour dight, An' cut you up wi' ready sleight, Trenching your gushing entrails bright, Like ony ditch; And then, O what a glorious sight, Warm-reekin', rich! Then, horn for horn, they stretch an' strive: Deil tak the hindmost! on they drive, Tilla' their weel-swall'd kytes belyve Are bent like drums; Then auld Guidman, maist like to rive, Bethankit! hums. Is there that owre his French ragout Or olio that wad staw a sow, Or fricassee wad make her spew Wi' perfect sconner, Looks down wi' sneering, scornfu' view On sic a dinner? Poor devil! see him owre his trash, As feckles as wither'd rash, His spindle shank, a guid whip-lash; His nieve a nit; Thro' blody flood or field to dash, O how unfit! But mark the Rustic, haggis-fed, The trembling earth resounds his tread. Clap in his walie nieve a blade, He'll mak it whissle; An' legs an' arms, an' hands will sned, Like taps o' trissle. Ye Pow'rs, wha mak mankind your care, And dish them out their billo' fare, Auld Scotland wants nae skinking ware That jaups in luggies; But, if ye wish her gratefu' prayer Gie her a haggis!
Just noticed for the first time that there's a nightclub in town which has metal detectors outside. Would never give them my business but what a sad state of affairs.
