Re: To The University Types

abuse@xxxxxxxxxxxx (Peter Corlett) writes:

Dave <jrzoyrl@xxxxxxxxxxxxx> wrote:
Michel Buijsman <abuse@xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx> writes:
[...]
Walking at a meaningful pace seems to do the trick, as well.
Never seems to deter old people who just -stop- in the middle of the
pavement in front of me though.

A lump of steel in the back of their heels as I skid to a stop tends to get
the message across.

I don't like to give OAPs a good kicking. Especially not when I've just
had my hair cut - it reinforces unfair stereotypes, for a start.

I did get run over by a bloody four-year old on a tricycle last week
though. Little git, I had have a mind to kick him into the road where
bikes belong, but then I noticed his mother (nanny?) had a big black dog
with her and he looked worryingly like Damien Thorn, so I didn't. I'm no
Lee Remick

One year, I glanced at the mince pies which had displaced the useful stuff
from its shelf some time during September, and they were marked BBE DEC 24.

Well, I've still got some of last years Christmas cake left over.
Enough alcohol in that to kill me stone dead, let alone any invisible
nasties; other than that I don't go in a lot for 'festive'
food. Christmas pudding has unfortunately memories of nearly choking to
death on bloody currency my idiot father kept putting in it; Sprouts -
cooked the way my mother did them - bring back pungent memories of
grandma; turkey is just plain ghastly in any configuration. Pigs in blankets I
-like-. Unfortunately, my cholestrol is a bit high, so they're off the
menu too.

So, a large glass of whiskey and an even larger brandy sodden lump of cake
should see me right.

I plan to skip the Radio Times and the Christmas pudding, drink the scotch
in one go and wake up some time on the 27th once civilisation has returned.
Which reminds me, I need to find my flashing "Bah Humbug" sign to stick in
the window.

Well, I quite fancy watching Kylie on Christmas day but in any case, I don't want
to miss the traditional side of Christmas television. I think it's nice
that in these modern times ITV go to the trouble, every year, of
reminding us that unto earth a saviour was born, and that his name was Bond,
James Bond.[1]

Dave
--
millibrachiate tentacular coelenterates
.

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