Are these loudmouthed ****s a dying breed,? I watched a programme last night about the famous Routemasters, and there wasn't one of the ****ers anywhere to be seen.
Just channel hopping, missed the first 10 minutes, thought it was a programme about Baghdad at first, then realised it was in Laarndan I'm going there soon, will I need a ****ing passport or what?
Depends where you are travelling from. Was the programme about actual routemasters? I remember the day of the last routemaster on the number 19 route. The streets were lined, it was very emotiozzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
You don't miss it till it's gone. Speaking of whiggers: the little **** two doors down has progressed from playing football against our fence to playing music of black origin very loudly in his bedroom. Do I kick his or his dad's **** in?
Only joking, Alf. Anything to do with London's heyday is good for me. I still live in the thick of it and often pine for the old days.
Was stoned last night or the night before and watched a programme from decades ago about the London suberbs. Think the guy was a famous poet, he slipped some poetry in anyway. Showed you old footage then footage from the 70's (when the show was made) Bbc4 is magic when you are stoned
That would have been the legend that was John Betjeman. He wrote possibly the best WW2 poem ever. Imagine Hyacinth Bucket in full flow.... Let me take this other glove off As the vox humana swells, And the beauteous fields of Eden Bask beneath the Abbey bells. Here, where England's statesmen lie, Listen to a lady's cry. Gracious Lord, oh bomb the Germans. Spare their women for Thy Sake, And if that is not too easy We will pardon Thy Mistake. But, gracious Lord, whate'er shall be, Don't let anyone bomb me. Keep our Empire undismembered Guide our Forces by Thy Hand, Gallant blacks from far Jamaica, Honduras and Togoland; Protect them Lord in all their fights, And, even more, protect the whites. Think of what our Nation stands for, Books from Boots and country lanes, Free speech, free passes, class distinction, Democracy and proper drains. Lord, put beneath Thy special care One-eighty-nine Cadogan Square. Although dear Lord I am a sinner, I have done no major crime; Now I'll come to Evening Service Whensoever I have the time. So, Lord, reserve for me a crown. And do not let my shares go down. I will labour for Thy Kingdom, Help our lads to win the war, Send white feathers to the cowards Join the Women's Army Corps, Then wash the Steps around Thy Throne In the Eternal Safety Zone. Now I feel a little better, What a treat to hear Thy Word, Where the bones of leading statesmen, Have so often been interr'd. And now, dear Lord, I cannot wait Because I have a luncheon date. yacontcha!
1) We're not a dying breeed. 2) I wish your family had been in the 19th century then we wouldn't have to put up with your inane, foul mouthed, ignorant, bigoted drivel on here .
If visiting any inner London borough, you will need a phrase book - innit blud. Yer actual awrite geeza, sweet mates, you'll mostly only find in places like Hoddesdon, Harlow, and Harrow, where they live on reservations. Except for Saarf East Lunnen, where Jonno Accers lives. Pie and Mash shop gertcha culture remains strong in them parts.
