The Ayatollah said it ...
no fun
... no laughter.
Being an Islamofascist is a serious business.
Wednesday 23 June 2010
No fun under Islam
The Ayatollah said it ...
no fun
... no laughter.
Being an Islamofascist is a serious business.
Effete wankers will say I am over-reacting
Well ... ... no not really Here is a video showing links with Hitler and Islam
Let's leave the last word tp Ayatollah Khomeini: "There is no laughter or 'fun' in a true Islamic State ...!"
Let's leave the last word tp Ayatollah Khomeini: "There is no laughter or 'fun' in a true Islamic State ...!"
Problems again with Muslim integration.
Met an old colleague this evening who has had quite a radical career change in recent years.
She currently works in a centre of refugee women in West Yorkshire (mainly battered women).
Her job is obviously quite harrowing.
I was listening intently when I met her for a coffee earlier on this evening.
She is bound by client cofidentiality so will not discuss specific cases with me.
However most of her 'clients' are battered Muslim women.
The commonest form of abuse she deals with
... apart from rape (which she encounters daily amongst her Muslim clientele)
... is girls / women beat up by fathers; brothers; male cousins and uncles ...
... for
(sic)
... bringing disgrace upon the family and offending family honour.
It is time David Cameron got a grip of this country.
As I have said before Britain
... like most of Western Europe is too soft on Islam.
Islam is not a religion in my opinion but is instead a fascist political ideology which cannot be integrated into the modern democratic way of life here in Europe.
Islam by its fascistic authoritarian nature is completely opposed to democracy and the freedoms which are part and parcel of living in a modern democratic society.
Muslims do not integrate
... because they do not wish to.
Islam by its very schitzoid dualistic nature
... is incompatible with our modern way of life.
Muslims need to be told straight ...
If you wish to integrate ...
... renounce Islam.Either become atheist /agnostic like most British (and European) citizens;
or
convert to Christianity or Judeaism
... (should they feel that they requirement to subscribe to the crippling way of life of a religeous zealot).
Mosques and madrassas should be given notice that they are to close immediately.
New arrivals should be told CLEARLY that in order to integrate with modernity ...
... they need to make a clean break with the backward crap from their Old Country.
All THIS SHITE
... about women 'DIS-HONONOURING' their families
... is a throwback to ancient barbaric crap which has been imported (and not properly challenged.
Anyway I listened to my friend and her tales of all the Muslim women she deals with and I thought ...
... time Islam was irradicated from Europe.
We need to take a tough line here.
The French and Belgians have recently taken out new laws making it illegal to wear a burka.
Britain should also outlaw the burka and hijab.
It is quite a common site in Yorkshire streetS (Especially on the streets of Leeds; Bradford; Dewsbury and Huddersfield) to see this barbaric unifor of women's enslavement and repression.
No more burkas or hijabs.
Shut down the mosques NOW.
She currently works in a centre of refugee women in West Yorkshire (mainly battered women).
Her job is obviously quite harrowing.
I was listening intently when I met her for a coffee earlier on this evening.
She is bound by client cofidentiality so will not discuss specific cases with me.
However most of her 'clients' are battered Muslim women.
The commonest form of abuse she deals with
... apart from rape (which she encounters daily amongst her Muslim clientele)
... is girls / women beat up by fathers; brothers; male cousins and uncles ...
... for
(sic)
... bringing disgrace upon the family and offending family honour.
It is time David Cameron got a grip of this country.
As I have said before Britain
... like most of Western Europe is too soft on Islam.
Islam is not a religion in my opinion but is instead a fascist political ideology which cannot be integrated into the modern democratic way of life here in Europe.
Islam by its fascistic authoritarian nature is completely opposed to democracy and the freedoms which are part and parcel of living in a modern democratic society.
Muslims do not integrate
... because they do not wish to.
Islam by its very schitzoid dualistic nature
... is incompatible with our modern way of life.
Muslims need to be told straight ...
If you wish to integrate ...
... renounce Islam.Either become atheist /agnostic like most British (and European) citizens;
or
convert to Christianity or Judeaism
... (should they feel that they requirement to subscribe to the crippling way of life of a religeous zealot).
Mosques and madrassas should be given notice that they are to close immediately.
New arrivals should be told CLEARLY that in order to integrate with modernity ...
... they need to make a clean break with the backward crap from their Old Country.
All THIS SHITE
... about women 'DIS-HONONOURING' their families
... is a throwback to ancient barbaric crap which has been imported (and not properly challenged.
Anyway I listened to my friend and her tales of all the Muslim women she deals with and I thought ...
... time Islam was irradicated from Europe.
We need to take a tough line here.
The French and Belgians have recently taken out new laws making it illegal to wear a burka.
Britain should also outlaw the burka and hijab.
It is quite a common site in Yorkshire streetS (Especially on the streets of Leeds; Bradford; Dewsbury and Huddersfield) to see this barbaric unifor of women's enslavement and repression.
No more burkas or hijabs.
Shut down the mosques NOW.
Tuesday 22 June 2010
Castin couch ,,,
Glae-kit.
Job interviews at David’s firm took a standard pattern.
The girl was asked three different questions to start.
Depending on the rresponse to the first two
… would determine if the third was asked.
However by the end of the second question if he did not get the appropriate reply the interview would slowly wind down.
Body language … particularly the eyes was important.
If the girl’s eyes were glae-kit.
She more or less got the position right away.
More intelligent girls would be fobbed off with a response like
… ‘ohh my Human Resources lass is off sick today … when she comes back I will get her to contact you.’
This could be roughly translated as:
“Fuck off you ain’t getting the job love.”
Within an hour of starting
... Simon
... would call her into his office
... and either grope her bum or her tits.
If she reacted negatively to this she was out the door within the hour.
Glae-kit girls did not react negatively, but allowed his hand to wander further inside her knickers or bra.
Annie Turner was a 24 yr old brunette; 5’7”; with lovely long legs and smooth skin.
With his hand inside her bra, she offered no resistance whatsoever.
“Ohh you feel nice Annie, shall we lie on this couch over here?”
He unzipped her dress and she undid his trouser zip.
He felt his erection growing as she rubbed her tits against him.
She was only wearing her bra and pants now as they lay on the settee together. He threw the rest of his clothing in the floor leaving only his briefs on.
Annie opened her legs andd he pushed her panties to one side.
He stuck it into her and she gasped. He mounted her and banged her furiously from above.
Job interviews at David’s firm took a standard pattern.
The girl was asked three different questions to start.
Depending on the rresponse to the first two
… would determine if the third was asked.
However by the end of the second question if he did not get the appropriate reply the interview would slowly wind down.
Body language … particularly the eyes was important.
If the girl’s eyes were glae-kit.
She more or less got the position right away.
More intelligent girls would be fobbed off with a response like
… ‘ohh my Human Resources lass is off sick today … when she comes back I will get her to contact you.’
This could be roughly translated as:
“Fuck off you ain’t getting the job love.”
Within an hour of starting
... Simon
... would call her into his office
... and either grope her bum or her tits.
If she reacted negatively to this she was out the door within the hour.
Glae-kit girls did not react negatively, but allowed his hand to wander further inside her knickers or bra.
Annie Turner was a 24 yr old brunette; 5’7”; with lovely long legs and smooth skin.
With his hand inside her bra, she offered no resistance whatsoever.
“Ohh you feel nice Annie, shall we lie on this couch over here?”
He unzipped her dress and she undid his trouser zip.
He felt his erection growing as she rubbed her tits against him.
She was only wearing her bra and pants now as they lay on the settee together. He threw the rest of his clothing in the floor leaving only his briefs on.
Annie opened her legs andd he pushed her panties to one side.
He stuck it into her and she gasped. He mounted her and banged her furiously from above.
Caz + Annie
Another two lasses also worked for them ... they were called Caz (aged 23) and Annie (aged 24)
... of them more details will follow soon
Carol and Carolina (continued)
It could almost be comical the way
... it occured so super-casually.
The men would continue talking
... in a normal tone of voice
... even answering phones
... and composing emails
... whilst shoving their cocks up either girl's arse; pussy;
... OR in one of their mouths
... it occured so super-casually.
The men would continue talking
... in a normal tone of voice
... even answering phones
... and composing emails
... whilst shoving their cocks up either girl's arse; pussy;
... OR in one of their mouths
Carol and Carolina (more details)
This continued for quite a while.
Indeed the men would conduct meetings with other men whilst the two girls were bent over getting shagged by everyone at said meeting.
Womenn in their 20's who work in offices
Yorkshire women in offices.
I have worked in different companies over the last 15 yrs in North; West and South Yorkshire and have a reasonably good experience of the situation w.r.t. women who work in offices.
These fall largely into two categories.
Those in their early 20’s and the rest.
This is probably universal about young women in their early 20’s rather than specific to Northern England.
In Yorkshire you can have (if you know how to be relatively smart) a rich and varied sex-life.
Girls between 19 and 25 tend to be easy to bed.
Most men know that.
Men in Yorkshire in their late 30’s to early 60’s are extremely aware of this when they employ young women.
Northern English girls are easily persuaded
... to ‘get them off’.
The them in question being their panties.
Men in the age range 35 to 55 tend to be married (but more like flatmates with their wives)
So young women aged 21 to 25 tend to be fair game for these blokes ... and the young women take advantage of this ...
... obviously.
Used to work for this Cockney geezer (we will call him David) who had a different lass working for him every week.
How he did it is irrelevant.
His office manager (Simon) was a Yorkshire man of 38.
Their office was in central Leeds.
I would go to them every three weeks on contract, they always had very pretty young women working for them (normally aged between 21 and 24).
Two girls (who were cousins called Carol and Carolina) stuck out because they were family
… and both had the same kind of ‘glae-kit’ look on their faces.
Both were tall (about 5’7”) slim white lasses with broad Leeds accents; both brunettes with dress-size 10-12 figures.
Both were getting shagged by Simon and David and any other bloke who took their fancy.
I came into the office one morning at 08:45hrs to be greeted by Simon sat at his desk.
It was not till I went into the Comms Room where the computer network sever was stored and looked back through the glass partition window
... that I saw Carol under the desk
... with Simon’s cock in her mouth.
Another time I came in at 18:30hrs
... and Carolina was being spit-roasted
... by both David who was in her mouth
… and Simon who had her bent doggy-style over the desk.
Both men acted like the girl was simply just typing a letter rather than being intimate with them both simultaneously.
Phew a lucky escape.
Reason I was sweating
... is because I was ever so slightly naughty about 2 yrs ago.
I cheated on this woman I was seeing with her own daughter.
Difficult to explain really.
Mother was 38; and her daughter only 18.
Both mum and daughter were good looking women.
As I said I find Yorkshire women quite fetching.
The daughter was at home one Thursday night.
I had arranged to collect the mother from work at 23:45hrs from pub where she was a part-time barmaid.
The daughter was fussing about in her silly girlish way ... trying to attract my attention.
I successfully ignored her by pretending to watch some crap Hollywood action drama the mum had left for me in the DVD Machine.
The daughter was determined to distract me though.
"Can you give me a lift up to collect my wages from the fish and chip shop?"
She asked politely.
I grudgingly agreed.
I drove to other end of Dewsbury (almost in Leeds in fact)
... and she ran into a fish and chip shop.
"Cut up over here ... it's a faster route to the house than the road you came down here on." she grinned.
Now I pretty much know most major routes in West and North Yorkshire having lived and worked here for 15 years.
I foolishly agreed.
We got up out of Dewsbury and onto the moors.
"Pull-up here I need to do something!" she announced.
I pulled up and parked in a lay-by.
Her knickers were at her ankles before I got the chance to blink.
Obviously ...
I was not going to look a 'gift-horse' in the mouth.
Helen was a consenting adult ... she made the offer ... I did not chase / coerce / rape her ...!
She was over 18 ... perfectly legal and willing.
What sane man wouldn't refuse it if it's on a plate?
An 18 yr old girl is quite a different prospect from a mature woman of 28 or 38.
Still sex is sex.
A shag is a shag.
However afterwards it was never the same with the mum.
We split two weeks later.
I do not know if her daughter told her of our liasion on the moors ... but it felt decidedly awkward.
... is because I was ever so slightly naughty about 2 yrs ago.
I cheated on this woman I was seeing with her own daughter.
Difficult to explain really.
Mother was 38; and her daughter only 18.
Both mum and daughter were good looking women.
As I said I find Yorkshire women quite fetching.
The daughter was at home one Thursday night.
I had arranged to collect the mother from work at 23:45hrs from pub where she was a part-time barmaid.
The daughter was fussing about in her silly girlish way ... trying to attract my attention.
I successfully ignored her by pretending to watch some crap Hollywood action drama the mum had left for me in the DVD Machine.
The daughter was determined to distract me though.
"Can you give me a lift up to collect my wages from the fish and chip shop?"
She asked politely.
I grudgingly agreed.
I drove to other end of Dewsbury (almost in Leeds in fact)
... and she ran into a fish and chip shop.
"Cut up over here ... it's a faster route to the house than the road you came down here on." she grinned.
Now I pretty much know most major routes in West and North Yorkshire having lived and worked here for 15 years.
I foolishly agreed.
We got up out of Dewsbury and onto the moors.
"Pull-up here I need to do something!" she announced.
I pulled up and parked in a lay-by.
Her knickers were at her ankles before I got the chance to blink.
Obviously ...
I was not going to look a 'gift-horse' in the mouth.
Helen was a consenting adult ... she made the offer ... I did not chase / coerce / rape her ...!
She was over 18 ... perfectly legal and willing.
What sane man wouldn't refuse it if it's on a plate?
An 18 yr old girl is quite a different prospect from a mature woman of 28 or 38.
Still sex is sex.
A shag is a shag.
However afterwards it was never the same with the mum.
We split two weeks later.
I do not know if her daughter told her of our liasion on the moors ... but it felt decidedly awkward.
Yorkshire women and getting shagged
Out the other day in car with mate.
He pulls up near Asda's supermarket and shouts to young lass to jump in his car.
This girl was about 18 or 19 ... quite pretty.
Wakefield
... can be a wee bit claustrophobic sometimes
... and can feel like a small goldfish bowl
... actually.
"Hello ...!"
... she smiles
"I know you ...! You were shagging my mum Yvonne last year."
I can honestly say that I did not recognise the young lass
... but she insisted she knew me.
Potentially dangerous ground ... as in think fast ...!!
I have been with quite a lot of ladies in the 28 to 39 years of age bracket.
Yorkshire women are reasonably obliging with sex ...
... and Yorkshire women in their early to mid-30's
... are happy to jump into bed with lots of men.
"Yvonne?" I quiz her.
"Yea ... Yvonne from Dewsbury who lives here in Wakefield!"
Suddenly it occurred to me who her mother was.
The lass had previously always worn
... her school uniform
... when I was with her mum.
So I did not recognise her some 15 months later.
"Aw yea right ... I remember you now ... ehh it's Santana yea??"
The young lass nods in agreement.
What hetero-sexual man his right mind would refuse??
Just spent last night with my gorgeous buxom shapely 29 yr old neighbour again.
Christ
... that beautiful woman could fuck and suck
... for England.
In fact if shagging was an Olympic Sport ... she could get the Gold medal every day.
She is one extremely randy lass (once you get her juices flowing)
Disturbed by religeous loonies at my door
What is it with these eejits who delude themselves with the 'salvation' of God.
Sitting perfectly happy in my garden enjoying lovely sunny day.
Up pops two numpties ...
... on a 'mission' to save the sinners.
These eejits are beneath contempt.
Self-satisfied self-riteous cunts.
You have to be downright offensive to these people to get rid of them ... but them they just come back
... mob-handed
... with a posse
... so to speak
Christ ...!!
You don't get a moments rest from these Christian Evangelical head-fucks.
You see this being a mainly white neighbourhood ... well they are worried that the other delusional head-fucks (i.e. the Muslims) are winning over more numpties than them.
So they constantly have to come around and try battering the weak-willed into submission with their absolute pish.
Anyway back to the gorgeous Yorkshire ladies.
This is what my gorgeous neighbour looks like with her sexy great big 'come to bed eyes'.
... she is a shapely dress-size 12 figure with lovely legs and big tits.
Yum yum ...!!
Last night ...
Typical of Yorkshire huh??
My neighbour two streets away FROM MY HOUSE...
... her the (GORGEOUS friend )
... of the rather tasty spunk bucket one I explained about before in a previous post.
DESCRIPTION:
Late 20's; white; slim; dark-haired; shapely; tall; long-legged babe ...
Yes ...
... one does worry sometimes about the sad state of the
... 'ordinary people'
My neighbour is a lovely lass.
Typical down to Earth Yorkshire lass ...
... but ever so slightly dim at times.
Kind of stupid but save-able
... so to speak.
(not to mention highly shaggable and fantastic in bed).
She came around on Sunday asking my advice.
Ohh the joys of being single once again.
She was sat on my couch.
Dressed in a very short skirt and a t-shirt which left nothing to my already rampantly wild imagination.
She asked me:
"Can you read this letter for me and tell me what the Council actually want here??"
Straight forward request for information really.
However this lady ...
having left school 13 years ago at the age of 16 with no qualifications ...
... had difficulties comprehending it.
I was more than happy to translate ... explain the contents of the letter in
... "punter-talk"
She sat with a big smile on her face looking good enouggh to eat too.
"What can I do for you to return the favour??"
... she sweetly asked
... with that obliging smile.
Silly question really ...
Five minutes later
... I had this gorgeous creature balanced on the end of my manhood ... bouncing up and down
... vigorously sighing / panting
... and moaning
... in that deliciously sexy Yorkshire accent
... amazing ...!!
Believe me ...
WOW ...!!
This woman is gorgeous.
Have also shagged both her mates too ...
The three of them are
... gorgeous late 20's early 30's
... sexy Yorkshire white lasses.
Yummy...!!
My neighbour two streets away FROM MY HOUSE...
... her the (GORGEOUS friend )
... of the rather tasty spunk bucket one I explained about before in a previous post.
DESCRIPTION:
Late 20's; white; slim; dark-haired; shapely; tall; long-legged babe ...
Yes ...
... one does worry sometimes about the sad state of the
... 'ordinary people'
My neighbour is a lovely lass.
Typical down to Earth Yorkshire lass ...
... but ever so slightly dim at times.
Kind of stupid but save-able
... so to speak.
(not to mention highly shaggable and fantastic in bed).
She came around on Sunday asking my advice.
Ohh the joys of being single once again.
She was sat on my couch.
Dressed in a very short skirt and a t-shirt which left nothing to my already rampantly wild imagination.
She asked me:
"Can you read this letter for me and tell me what the Council actually want here??"
Straight forward request for information really.
However this lady ...
having left school 13 years ago at the age of 16 with no qualifications ...
... had difficulties comprehending it.
I was more than happy to translate ... explain the contents of the letter in
... "punter-talk"
She sat with a big smile on her face looking good enouggh to eat too.
"What can I do for you to return the favour??"
... she sweetly asked
... with that obliging smile.
Silly question really ...
Five minutes later
... I had this gorgeous creature balanced on the end of my manhood ... bouncing up and down
... vigorously sighing / panting
... and moaning
... in that deliciously sexy Yorkshire accent
... amazing ...!!
Believe me ...
WOW ...!!
This woman is gorgeous.
Have also shagged both her mates too ...
The three of them are
... gorgeous late 20's early 30's
... sexy Yorkshire white lasses.
Yummy...!!
Bilin' hoat ... th'day hooch och aye.
Love this brief spell we are currently having of warm summer weather.
All these sexy Yorkshire babes out in:
... bikinis;
... shorts;
... skimpy tops
... and of course
... mini-skirts ...
... wow ...!!
I am such a lucky bastard living here
... with so many gorgeous sexy Yorkshire babes
... surrounding me 24/7
Hope that answers it for you
If you are fortunate to live in Yorkshire ...
... then
... Jessica-Jane Clement
... is the kinda lass
... who will happily be your wife /
... girlfriend /
... lover
... if you are a hetero-sexual bloke (assuming that is your kinda thing).
Why I live in Yorkshire
I am frequently asked ... sometimes in not so nice ways ... why do I continue to live here in Yorkshire??
Simple one word answer ...
... the women
I love Yorkshire women ...
extremely sexy ...
... tasty well-built ladies ...!!
Here is a perfect shining example of why Yorkshire women do it for me ...
... this lady is sex on legs (in my humble opinion)
Yorkshire has an abundance of beautiful women
... like this too ...
... so that is the main reason I live here.
Typical Yorkshire lass:
Jessica-Jane Clement
... of the BBC's telly show:
'The Real Hustle'
more on Hebden Bridge
Hebden Bridge ...
Like Otley (also in West Yorkshire)
Acts like a magnet for these so-called 'cool' folks.
You know the kind
... sad bastards who have never grown up.
Pathetic shites who should have been slapped up and down the street
... in the 1960's and 1970's.
Fuckers who are (sadly)
... still stuck in their perpetual teenage years ...
Permanent whinging students ...
Permanent smelly hippie bums ...
Fuckin sad bastards who should have been fuckin shot in the 1960's ...
That way we would not be dealing with the consequences of their self-indulgent bull-shit.
Wish someone would invent a time machine
... so we could go back to the 1960's
... and bomb
... Woodstock /
... Haight Ashbury /
... the Isle of Wight Festival /
... Carnaby Street
... et al.
Fuckin useless self-indulgent pish.
Like Otley (also in West Yorkshire)
Acts like a magnet for these so-called 'cool' folks.
You know the kind
... sad bastards who have never grown up.
Pathetic shites who should have been slapped up and down the street
... in the 1960's and 1970's.
Fuckers who are (sadly)
... still stuck in their perpetual teenage years ...
Permanent whinging students ...
Permanent smelly hippie bums ...
Fuckin sad bastards who should have been fuckin shot in the 1960's ...
That way we would not be dealing with the consequences of their self-indulgent bull-shit.
Wish someone would invent a time machine
... so we could go back to the 1960's
... and bomb
... Woodstock /
... Haight Ashbury /
... the Isle of Wight Festival /
... Carnaby Street
... et al.
Fuckin useless self-indulgent pish.
More on Hebden Bridge ...
Well where do I start??
Hebden Brridge is a kind of sad ossified piece of the 1960's which should have died years ago.
However like all these embarressing pensioners ... you know
... Mick Jagger ...
... Elton John ...
Hilary and Bill Clinton ...
You know these sad fuckers who are still stuck in an embarressing vision of
... 'cool'
from 45 years ago.
Christ the 1960's were pish the first time around ... but these sad fuckers have to bore us to death with their ... so-called glory days.
Christ grandad ... ain't ya got a pensioner's club to go to huh??
Fuck off ...!!
Anyway ...
Hebden Brridge is full of sad cunts who still live in the 1960's
... as I said ...
... Embaressing old cunts in their 50's and 60's with long grey hair and pony-tails.
You know the kind of sad place??
Full of unhealthy looking vegans ...
(vegan is a militant vegetarian ... i.e. extremely spoilt brat)
... vegans who look like skeletons
... pale
... unhealthy looking skinny folk
... who look like they are about to collapse
... through malnutrition.
Hebden Bridge is that sort of embarressing place ...!!
The 1960's was absolute shite the first time around ...
... why is it's corpse alive and well and boring the tits offf us in Hebden Bridge West Yorkshire???
Hebden Brridge is a kind of sad ossified piece of the 1960's which should have died years ago.
However like all these embarressing pensioners ... you know
... Mick Jagger ...
... Elton John ...
Hilary and Bill Clinton ...
You know these sad fuckers who are still stuck in an embarressing vision of
... 'cool'
from 45 years ago.
Christ the 1960's were pish the first time around ... but these sad fuckers have to bore us to death with their ... so-called glory days.
Christ grandad ... ain't ya got a pensioner's club to go to huh??
Fuck off ...!!
Anyway ...
Hebden Brridge is full of sad cunts who still live in the 1960's
... as I said ...
... Embaressing old cunts in their 50's and 60's with long grey hair and pony-tails.
You know the kind of sad place??
Full of unhealthy looking vegans ...
(vegan is a militant vegetarian ... i.e. extremely spoilt brat)
... vegans who look like skeletons
... pale
... unhealthy looking skinny folk
... who look like they are about to collapse
... through malnutrition.
Hebden Bridge is that sort of embarressing place ...!!
The 1960's was absolute shite the first time around ...
... why is it's corpse alive and well and boring the tits offf us in Hebden Bridge West Yorkshire???
Ms. Thompkins (description of)
Ms. Thompkins is 37 years old
... unmarried
... living on her own in Hebden Bridge West Yorkshire
... (a kind of time-warped piece of the 1960's frozen in space-time).
Hebden Bridge is one of theses 'cool' place where men in their 40's and 50's walk around with pony-tails and grey hair ... and are msad cunts who are 're-cycled teenagers'
... i.e Mummy's boys who never grew up.
Ms. Thompkins can be described as follows:
... no kids yet
... pretty unlikely to have any
... since she has 'passed the "window of opportunity" ... viz a vis fertility'
In other words she will grow old on her own cos she missed the boat with regard to having kids in her 20's like most normal women do.
Ms. Thompkins
... like the white trash she 'supports'
Is typical of what has gone wrong under 30 years of:
... Thatcher /
... Major /
... Blair and Brown
...in modern Britain
... and what was the white working class who have been side-lined and systematically ignored in the past 30 years.
... unmarried
... living on her own in Hebden Bridge West Yorkshire
... (a kind of time-warped piece of the 1960's frozen in space-time).
Hebden Bridge is one of theses 'cool' place where men in their 40's and 50's walk around with pony-tails and grey hair ... and are msad cunts who are 're-cycled teenagers'
... i.e Mummy's boys who never grew up.
Ms. Thompkins can be described as follows:
... no kids yet
... pretty unlikely to have any
... since she has 'passed the "window of opportunity" ... viz a vis fertility'
In other words she will grow old on her own cos she missed the boat with regard to having kids in her 20's like most normal women do.
Ms. Thompkins
... like the white trash she 'supports'
Is typical of what has gone wrong under 30 years of:
... Thatcher /
... Major /
... Blair and Brown
...in modern Britain
... and what was the white working class who have been side-lined and systematically ignored in the past 30 years.
Sharon and Willie's typical day (continued)
Sharon:
"Has that stupid Middle Class ddough-head Ms. Thompkins not showed up yet??"
Willie:
"Aw give her time Shazz ...
... it's a long fuckin' drive from Hebden Bridge ...
... the lassie will be here soon ...
... here roll a spliff lass and shut-it ...
... pass me another tinnie as well
... this other beer can is empty."
(Sharon rolls cannabis cigarette and passes him a can of beer)
"Has that stupid Middle Class ddough-head Ms. Thompkins not showed up yet??"
Willie:
"Aw give her time Shazz ...
... it's a long fuckin' drive from Hebden Bridge ...
... the lassie will be here soon ...
... here roll a spliff lass and shut-it ...
... pass me another tinnie as well
... this other beer can is empty."
(Sharon rolls cannabis cigarette and passes him a can of beer)
A typical day for Willie and Sharon (our modeern Yorkshire-ites)
Willie:
"Hey Shazz ... pass the phone huh!"
(Sharon passes him the phone)
(continues)
"Ohh hiya is that Ms. Thompkins?"
Ms. Thompkins:
"Yes ... what can I do for you?"
Willie: "Ahh ... right loooo-vey
... got this appointment thingey at the Dole Office about
... emmmm
... Returning to Work
... ahhh ... but me with my ... ahhh
... "illness" ....!!"
Ms. Thompkins:
"Ohh yes Mr. Braithwaite ... I believe I spoke with your partner the other day ... do you receive Disability Living Allowance??"
Willie:
"Yeah loooo-vie ... got that plus Incapacity Benefit ...!"
Ms. Thompkins:
"Ohh ... right then Mr. Braithwaite ... can you come down to my office tomorrow and see my colleague the Welfare Rights Support Worker??"Willie:
"No probs loooo-vey ...!! ... see ya ... bye ..."
(hangs up phone)
"Right Sharon order some speed and go down to LIDL's for some tinnies ... I am gasping for a beer and a bit of whizz ... that lass from Hebden Bridge ... ahh Ms. Thompkins is getting me a bigger Giro sorted ... hey let's have a party to celebrate Shazz babes ...!!"
"Hey Shazz ... pass the phone huh!"
(Sharon passes him the phone)
(continues)
"Ohh hiya is that Ms. Thompkins?"
Ms. Thompkins:
"Yes ... what can I do for you?"
Willie: "Ahh ... right loooo-vey
... got this appointment thingey at the Dole Office about
... emmmm
... Returning to Work
... ahhh ... but me with my ... ahhh
... "illness" ....!!"
Ms. Thompkins:
"Ohh yes Mr. Braithwaite ... I believe I spoke with your partner the other day ... do you receive Disability Living Allowance??"
Willie:
"Yeah loooo-vie ... got that plus Incapacity Benefit ...!"
Ms. Thompkins:
"Ohh ... right then Mr. Braithwaite ... can you come down to my office tomorrow and see my colleague the Welfare Rights Support Worker??"Willie:
"No probs loooo-vey ...!! ... see ya ... bye ..."
(hangs up phone)
"Right Sharon order some speed and go down to LIDL's for some tinnies ... I am gasping for a beer and a bit of whizz ... that lass from Hebden Bridge ... ahh Ms. Thompkins is getting me a bigger Giro sorted ... hey let's have a party to celebrate Shazz babes ...!!"
Sarcastic look at modern Yorkshire
Two of the 'ordinary people' ...!!
This is a typical 'day in the life' of modern white trash in Britain.
I have written it from a humorous point of view.
We shall refer to them as Sharon and Willie.
Both are long-term unemployed.
Both have not held a job since 1995
Both exist on 'disability benefits'
...(huge Giro cheques for doing fuck-all).
You see this 'victim-hood' thingey is a modern phenomenon.
It has only really thrived since the late 1970's.
This is a typical 'day in the life' of modern white trash in Britain.
I have written it from a humorous point of view.
We shall refer to them as Sharon and Willie.
Both are long-term unemployed.
Both have not held a job since 1995
Both exist on 'disability benefits'
...(huge Giro cheques for doing fuck-all).
You see this 'victim-hood' thingey is a modern phenomenon.
It has only really thrived since the late 1970's.
Do Social Workers actually produce anything of value??
Got to laugh ...
Well let's face it if we did not laugh at how ridiculous modern Europe is becoming we would not function.
However ...
Today I wish to function on Social Worker
... that load of silly bollocks whose function is obscure and whose existance no-one would really miss (let's be honest who would really miss them??)
Here in sunny Yorkshire (well it is sunny today since it's just gone Mid-summer and the Summer Solstice)
Just about every fucked up numpty and their dug has a Social Worker
...(or some other crap fuckin' hand-wringing Middle Class social fascist to "support" them)
Yorkshire has a hyper-abundance of these dunder-heids and useless numpties (all paid for by tax-payers money).
Let's look ...
In my street there are about 8 of them on Social Seecurity Benefit 'for life'
(that I know of anyway) ...
Useless work-shy lazy scum-bags who used to be called the Long-term unemployed.
Now they are (sic) "Venerable" or some other pish ...!!
What they all have in common though is some form of 'support-worker'
A support worker is like an advocate ... a link bridge so to speak for the inarticulate (or less well educated) so-called
... "ordinary people"
You know who I am refering to ...
In America they are the 'white trash' or 'trailer trash'
In other places they are the lower end of the lumpen proletariat.
In other words the scum that Tony Blair and Gordon Brown systematically by-passed during the 'Boom years' of New Labour.
Sink Estates;
CHAV's;
Neds;
Spives;
Call them what you like but they are the remains of what was the white working class.
Now they are labelled as "victims"
or casualties.
Sad really.
Will David Cameron
... actually do anything
... to address the issue??
Doubt it ...!!You know what that means ...??
Yup more work for Social Workers.
Interfering Middle Class hand-wringers to me and you.
As I said if all Social Workers spontaneously vaporised overnight
... would anyone actually mourn their passing or actuall carem about their loss??
Nope ...
Good riddence to bad rubbish.
The sooner that Social Workers no longer exist the better for all of us
... actually
Well let's face it if we did not laugh at how ridiculous modern Europe is becoming we would not function.
However ...
Today I wish to function on Social Worker
... that load of silly bollocks whose function is obscure and whose existance no-one would really miss (let's be honest who would really miss them??)
Here in sunny Yorkshire (well it is sunny today since it's just gone Mid-summer and the Summer Solstice)
Just about every fucked up numpty and their dug has a Social Worker
...(or some other crap fuckin' hand-wringing Middle Class social fascist to "support" them)
Yorkshire has a hyper-abundance of these dunder-heids and useless numpties (all paid for by tax-payers money).
Let's look ...
In my street there are about 8 of them on Social Seecurity Benefit 'for life'
(that I know of anyway) ...
Useless work-shy lazy scum-bags who used to be called the Long-term unemployed.
Now they are (sic) "Venerable" or some other pish ...!!
What they all have in common though is some form of 'support-worker'
A support worker is like an advocate ... a link bridge so to speak for the inarticulate (or less well educated) so-called
... "ordinary people"
You know who I am refering to ...
In America they are the 'white trash' or 'trailer trash'
In other places they are the lower end of the lumpen proletariat.
In other words the scum that Tony Blair and Gordon Brown systematically by-passed during the 'Boom years' of New Labour.
Sink Estates;
CHAV's;
Neds;
Spives;
Call them what you like but they are the remains of what was the white working class.
Now they are labelled as "victims"
or casualties.
Sad really.
Will David Cameron
... actually do anything
... to address the issue??
Doubt it ...!!You know what that means ...??
Yup more work for Social Workers.
Interfering Middle Class hand-wringers to me and you.
As I said if all Social Workers spontaneously vaporised overnight
... would anyone actually mourn their passing or actuall carem about their loss??
Nope ...
Good riddence to bad rubbish.
The sooner that Social Workers no longer exist the better for all of us
... actually
Monday 21 June 2010
Longest Day
Today being the 21st of June ... it is the Longest Day of the year ...
... well in the Northern Hemisphere just now ... obviously if you are in Argentina or Australia ... it is mid-Winter there now.
... well in the Northern Hemisphere just now ... obviously if you are in Argentina or Australia ... it is mid-Winter there now.
Head off to York.
Wee change of surroundings always makes for a wee bit of variety I suppose.
Ahh this single life thingey and my new found freedom to roam without having to wonder whether or not my ‘other half’ is supportive of the idea.
Quite alright being single during the short nights / long days of mid-June
… however obviously not mahh kinda thing once we get to January – February.
Met this dishy Northern Irish lass earlier this afternoon in a shop in York.
She was fairly cute; slim; tall (about 5’8”); dark-haired;
... aged about somewhere between 28 and 33 yrs old.
Yummy …!
Got chatting as you do casually as you move around the aisles of a shop.
I have always like N.Irish lasses (I had a girlfriend from Belfast about 15 yrs ago and she was lovely).
It’s their accent I like (very sexy way women from there speak) but obviously the women are tasty as well.
Always get a good laugh with a Northern Irish lass too.
Unfortunately
… as I quickly discovered
… she had two kids with her.
Shame …!!
However enjoyed the chat with her before the inevitable
… ‘Mummy who is this?’
Put this photo in just to demonstrate just how gorgeous Belfast lasses tend to be ...!!
Friday 18 June 2010
Spider ... parte cinco
Mercedes changed colour again.
This was wierder than he had initially anticipated.
Rendition (spider story continued)
Slowly he agreed to co-operate with Mercedes and McKorkendale.
They conducted a series of tests.
Tom at first was apprehensive, however with the assistance of the gorgeous Mercedes, he soon became
… their willing guinea pig.
She still looked slightly green-faced but he figured that it was all an optical illusion induced by the psycho-tropic drugs he was being subjected to.
The instrument panel bleeped and flashed furiously according to which devices they attached to him.
They had brought him a bed …
… which Mercedes lazily lay beneath
… in a variety of poses
… to induce his feelings of various existences and instances.
Tuesday 15 June 2010
Sort of explanation
Those who read this are probably wondering ... what the hell is this??
All will be revealed.
... to be continued
All will be revealed.
... to be continued
Spider ... continued
He sat still as requested by Mercedes.
“So why have you kidnapped me and brought me here to America?”
She was silent for three or four seconds like she was working out a suitable reply. Someone had brought him some food, although he had not eaten for three days … he was ravenous … somehow he did not trust it and pretended not to be interested.
“Tom … you should eat something to help you recover … we had to bring you here … Britain is becoming an unreliable island … too many infiltrators getting through … your border controls are completely porous and your government structures are riddled with sympathisers of the infiltrators … so we had no choice … sorry about the drugged rendition!”
Her gorgeous smile put him more at ease.
“So what crime have I committed that I require to be drugged; kidnapped and unfairly confined here?”
“We brought you here because we believe you display a very high level of what we call ‘powers’ … so we can assist you develop them for the benefit of people in the Liberated Zone.”
Mercedes left to return in five more minutes dressed in a party outfit: ultra micro-mini shorts; and a top which looked more like a bra than a t-shirt.
He finally succumbed to his hunger because he figured that they did not find him threatening enough to sedate again so he figured that the food was not drugged.
He ate with gusto, in an almost cat-like fashion gulping it down rapidly.
He noticed a rise in the room temperature.
Mercedes fiddled with a device she produced from her bag then spoke into it.
“Yes I am with him now … we are in G-sector; F-section.”
Two minutes later the door swished open and in confidently swaggered a tall slim man smoking a cigarette, he offered Tom one which he took gladly.
“Hi I am McKorkendale … project leader for this section.” His New York accented voice burred.
Tom drew on the cigarette slowly then coughed, Mercedes giggled.
She stood in close proximity to him and he could feel her flesh brush his arm. McKorkendale finished his cigarette then asked.
“So … has my lovely Spanish Brit colleague here … ahhh … filled you in as to why we brought you are here?”
Tom shook his head.
“I am none the wiser mate … said something about ‘powers’ but was pretty vague … you mean like extra-sensory perception then??”
Spider parte dos
She re-appeared with coffee.
They chatted as he casually sipped from the cup.
Her facial skin glistened a strange translucent green colour.
Realising he had been drugged he started winking out of consciousness.
His vision was first to go
… then he fell over and collapsed.
He awoke several hours later.
Semi-conscious he glanced up at Mercedes, but she was self-absorbed and speaking with someone unknown in a strange tongue.
She was now completely green in facial complexion … however her legs and arms retained her original tanned olive hue.
He drift back to slumber again.
Next time he awoke he was more awake but felt paralysed like some kind of debilitating sedative had frozen his limbs.
Tom was also aware that he was in some kind of high-velocity vehicle but did not know if he was in the air or on the ground.
“Lie still …!” she grimaced, her face almost devoid of emotion.
Mercedes was still gorgeous but now looked quite intense and very serious rather than the fun-filled ‘happy-go-lucky’ lass he had first met in Leeds before.
“Final descent … on glide-path” the computerised voice of the craft’s navigation system reported monotonously.
It then stated that they had landed.
“Don’t move … we shall transport you inside!”
At that she was joined by a huge muscle-bound man dressed in black.
They transferred inside a building, the automated voice reported they were now on Level 23.
Her green face shone then she plunged a syringe into his arm.
He was knocked out.
He awoke to a loud whirring sound and to find he was being scanned by beams of light which shifted from blue to green and beeped at each colour transition.
Mercedes re-appeared this time looking normal with no green face.
“We had to ensure that you were not one of them … you appreciate that we do not tolerate threats and that we have been infiltrated before so now we are extremely stringent.” She grinned almost looking happy that Tom had passed the tests with flying colours.
He glanced up at her radiant beauty.
“Where am I now?” he asked expectantly.
“Welcome to H.Q. …this is our Primary Base … you are in the in the USA … well the Nevada Desert to be precise … we are The Organisation … we apologise for our unorthodox transportations but we need to be cautious with you British … and all other Europeans in fact these days.”
Spider catches fly
Tom was perplexed.
His lack of luck in what he was confident was just another sexual conquest proved to be fruitless.
Mercedes although quite attentive during their discussions was not receptive to his advances.
She had sat seemingly entranced and spellbound however she then abruptly stood up and went to the Ladies Room without even a by your leave or explanation as to her destination.
Meanwhile inside the cubicle Mercedes sat speaking into a device she had retrieved from her handbag, she spoke in Spanish.
“Contact … I have found Target 8 … we are in a café in Leeds city centre.” She asked how to proceed.
“Esperamos ordenes …!” the reply came telling her to wait.
Ten minutes later she came back to find Tom almost at the exit he was speaking with a young lass in her early 20’s.
“Hi Tom … sorry I got held up shall we go someplace else?”
Mercedes dismissed the younger woman with a gesture of the hand however it was a motion whose authority and purpose were crystal clear. The girl scurried away.
Outside Mercedes snapped her finger and a car appeared.
“Get in Tom … Willie is going our way ...
... don’t worry he is my sister’s husband.”
Willie smiled a friendly greeting then ignored both of them for the rest of the time as he concentrated on the route.
Mercedes sat in very close proximity, Tom could almost taste her perfume.
They drove out towards the A1 (M).
Soon they accelerated past the A64 turn-off for York. Finally they reached the Otley / Wetherby turn-off and approached a farmhouse. Willie grinned and said ‘bye-bye’ as the other two got out. Mercedes led him up a pathway then produced an electronic gizmo which remotely opened the doors.
They were now inside an elevator which felt like it was going downward..
The computerised voice they were at Basement Level 4.
The air was still and a murmur of an extractor fan purred almost inaudibly. They walked out past a kitchen and through to a lounge area.
“Sit down I will get us a coffee …!” she smiled as she waved at a settee.
Monday 14 June 2010
La gata de Leeds
Tom stood having a cigarette in Chapel Allerton’s main street.
He was awaiting the arrival of a work colleague Victor.
Bar Seven has an artistic trendy kind of clientele, and is situated in the North Leeds suburb which prides itself in a sort of bohemian self-satisfied manner.
A Seat Marbella drew up alongside the bar.
Out jumped Carla Victor's Spanish girlfriend.
Victor was from Jalisco in Mexico, an I.T. Consultant who supervised a computing project specialising in Latin American clients.
Carla grinned at Tom.
“No es posible esta noche compa …!” She informed him that her man wasn’t going to arrive this evening.
She hugged him then disappeared in her car as fast as she had arrived.
He finished the cigarette, then felt at a loose end.
Turning back towards the door close to the entrance he crashed full-on into a blonde who was just leaving.
They both temporary lost balance and gripped each other till they were both stabilised.
She was a shapely tall lady in her mid-twenties (approximately 26 or 27 he estimated).
Her breast had hit him on his chest, she was 5’8” and he 5’10”.
She smiled seductively as they both apologised then she left.
The following week he was in Morrison’s supermarket on Albion Street in Leeds city centre when he spotted the exact same lass, dressed in a very short blue mini-skirt and a tight white blouse.
Tom’s eyes lit up as she approached.
“Hiya you are the girl from the pub in Chapel All the other night huh?” he shot her a grin.
Her hair was brunette today instead of blonde
... but she was a very beautiful curvaceous woman.
She kissed his cheeks.
“Soy Mercedes … y tu?”
“Mi nombre? … Tom!”
He replied shocked that she had sussed he spoke Spanish.
“How did you guess?” he continued.
“Ohh I heard you speaking Spanish on your mobile phone as I was collecting drinks from the bar that evening … I am going for a coffee over there … want to join me?” she pointed at a café across the street.
They crossed the street then entered.
Male heads turned in admiration as she confidently breezed in.
It was mid May 2010, the Tories had just won the General Election the previous week and an important announcement was expected that day from the dithering Liberal leader Nick Clegg.
Mercedes sat down and he went to fetch the young student lass waitress. He sat opposite her when he returned.
“Where ya from?” she smiled as she grinned ‘I want you’ with her eyes. He replied that he was from Helensburgh a small Navy dominated Scottish town near Glasgow.
“I am from Madrid but my mum was from Skipton, North Yorkshire and married my Spanish dad in 1982 the year I was born, then divorced and moved back here in the late 1989.”
He calculated that made her around 27 or 28.
Tom was 34.
Her eyes continued to gaze appreciatively directly into his.
... to be continued ...
Monday 7 June 2010
Cartel of fraudsters and gangsters ... yup ... that's what they aren in real life
I got a call the other day ... 'just by chance' aye right.
It was from a robotic chicken-head girl in a call-centre / customer contact centre for a large bank ... it does not really matter which one since all banks are identical and all of them treat you like shite too
... that is of course until they have gone 'tits-up' or there is a 'run' on them and they are about to implode.
Then the situation suddenly changes
... and they become "indispensable" instruments
... of the modern global finance system
... and they run cap in hand to every government who has a sympathetic ear (and a Chancellor of the Exchequer / Minister for Finance) and is will to bail their sad and sorry stupid numpty arses out with loadsa spondoolics courtesy of us poor suckers ... the tax-payer.
However this honeymoon period when they are so humble and thankful for being rescued ... well as one would expect it doesn't last ...
... after a very short time the hand-wringing / contemplative / apologetic attitude vaporises ...!
Then the real face emerges again and its back to
... "business as usual"
They then start all their corrupt two-faced robbing swine back-stabbing fraudster whore routine again.
The public complicity in this whole cycle of robbery; fraud; deception and then eating humble-pie till they get bailed out by the tax-payer once again is very important.
In this global age of 24hr news (CNN; BBC New 24; Fox etc etc)
People now suffer collective amnesia and can;'t even remember as far back as lat week never mind 15 yrs ago when we had the last economic recession.
FACE BOOK and other 'friends' sites is a large part of this dimming down of our culture.
Political correctness / political naivety also adds to the public's stupidity I suppose.
However all the banks are the same (even if they pretend to be 'all different' and 'diverse'
... total pish ...!
It's Hobson's Choice ...
... as in NO CHOICE REALLY.
So why did I goo through the motions with the young lass / new best mate / long-lost pal who is ecstatic to speak to me ... at the call centre
... harassing me in MY IMPORTANT LEISURE HOURS
Well simple really ...
1. The young girl's boss was listening (every unsolicited marketing call you receive is now pre-fixxed with the standard recorded message (all our calls are recorded for security and training purposes)
2. They are on commission ...
So the computer is programmed to measure the length of each of their sales and marketing agent's calls and analyse it
... if she does not have the correct number of what her bosses deem to be ... appropriate responses ... then she is on the lowest end of the pyramid with respect to pay and bonuses ... so in other words she starves for a whole month cos she only earns the basic shitey wage.
Anyway I listened to her robotic chicken head script as she referred to it constantly as she asked and repeated the same question several times only from a different angle ... I also asked her why she acted like a robot rather than thinking like a human.
No response ... on with her robot questioning.
All very depressing really!!
But that is why most people find sales and marketing calls tedious intrusive and irritating.
Call centre managers are a special breed of thick-skinned prick who lack any courtesy / decency sense of decorum.
... and they all tend to treat their sub-ordinates as shite
... if they are not cut from the same:
... shallow;
... self-opinionated;
... arrogant;
... loud-mouthed cloth as themselves.
So that is why I let the robot girl go to the end of her rant; set-script.
I still believe a young girl should eat ... just a shame we no longer have local offices for these people.
... within a short walk or drive from your house
... you would probably have to severely supress the urge to go round and petrol bomb them.
Cheeky fuckers that they are.
It was from a robotic chicken-head girl in a call-centre / customer contact centre for a large bank ... it does not really matter which one since all banks are identical and all of them treat you like shite too
... that is of course until they have gone 'tits-up' or there is a 'run' on them and they are about to implode.
Then the situation suddenly changes
... and they become "indispensable" instruments
... of the modern global finance system
... and they run cap in hand to every government who has a sympathetic ear (and a Chancellor of the Exchequer / Minister for Finance) and is will to bail their sad and sorry stupid numpty arses out with loadsa spondoolics courtesy of us poor suckers ... the tax-payer.
However this honeymoon period when they are so humble and thankful for being rescued ... well as one would expect it doesn't last ...
... after a very short time the hand-wringing / contemplative / apologetic attitude vaporises ...!
Then the real face emerges again and its back to
... "business as usual"
They then start all their corrupt two-faced robbing swine back-stabbing fraudster whore routine again.
The public complicity in this whole cycle of robbery; fraud; deception and then eating humble-pie till they get bailed out by the tax-payer once again is very important.
In this global age of 24hr news (CNN; BBC New 24; Fox etc etc)
People now suffer collective amnesia and can;'t even remember as far back as lat week never mind 15 yrs ago when we had the last economic recession.
FACE BOOK and other 'friends' sites is a large part of this dimming down of our culture.
Political correctness / political naivety also adds to the public's stupidity I suppose.
However all the banks are the same (even if they pretend to be 'all different' and 'diverse'
... total pish ...!
It's Hobson's Choice ...
... as in NO CHOICE REALLY.
So why did I goo through the motions with the young lass / new best mate / long-lost pal who is ecstatic to speak to me ... at the call centre
... harassing me in MY IMPORTANT LEISURE HOURS
Well simple really ...
1. The young girl's boss was listening (every unsolicited marketing call you receive is now pre-fixxed with the standard recorded message (all our calls are recorded for security and training purposes)
2. They are on commission ...
So the computer is programmed to measure the length of each of their sales and marketing agent's calls and analyse it
... if she does not have the correct number of what her bosses deem to be ... appropriate responses ... then she is on the lowest end of the pyramid with respect to pay and bonuses ... so in other words she starves for a whole month cos she only earns the basic shitey wage.
Anyway I listened to her robotic chicken head script as she referred to it constantly as she asked and repeated the same question several times only from a different angle ... I also asked her why she acted like a robot rather than thinking like a human.
No response ... on with her robot questioning.
All very depressing really!!
But that is why most people find sales and marketing calls tedious intrusive and irritating.
Call centre managers are a special breed of thick-skinned prick who lack any courtesy / decency sense of decorum.
... and they all tend to treat their sub-ordinates as shite
... if they are not cut from the same:
... shallow;
... self-opinionated;
... arrogant;
... loud-mouthed cloth as themselves.
So that is why I let the robot girl go to the end of her rant; set-script.
I still believe a young girl should eat ... just a shame we no longer have local offices for these people.
... within a short walk or drive from your house
... you would probably have to severely supress the urge to go round and petrol bomb them.
Cheeky fuckers that they are.
Sunday 6 June 2010
Aw aye it gets better too
So the next day I was on the street buying cigarettes for the missus.
"Ph-ew-eeeeee-hhhh-tt" I hear a whistle.
Turn around and there is Sharon in her BMW.
"Hiya ... this is my young cousin."
I jump into the car and sat in the back is Cindy.
Sharon and Tammy are in the front.
Cindy is quite a young looking
... almost studenty looking
... intense young pretty lass
... aged about 21 or 22.
"Can you give Cindy a lift?"
I drop the cigarettes into the house for herself and get the car keys. Two minutes later I drive around to meet Sharon; Tammy; and Cindy in rthe Beemer.
Again you know what is coming.
We get to Cindy's flat and she invites me in.
Same routine as Sharon ... she disappears to 'change' then calls me upstairs.
More furious vigourous hiding of the salchicha.
Pretty fuckin awsome as the Australians would say.
Feels nice banging it into a young lass of 22.
At 22
... she is the youngest woman
... that I have fucked for years
... as I said I really prefer my ladies in the 27 to 37 yrs old age-bracket.
However as I said before if it there on offer and the lass wants a shag ... never say no ...!!
"Ph-ew-eeeeee-hhhh-tt" I hear a whistle.
Turn around and there is Sharon in her BMW.
"Hiya ... this is my young cousin."
I jump into the car and sat in the back is Cindy.
Sharon and Tammy are in the front.
Cindy is quite a young looking
... almost studenty looking
... intense young pretty lass
... aged about 21 or 22.
"Can you give Cindy a lift?"
I drop the cigarettes into the house for herself and get the car keys. Two minutes later I drive around to meet Sharon; Tammy; and Cindy in rthe Beemer.
Again you know what is coming.
We get to Cindy's flat and she invites me in.
Same routine as Sharon ... she disappears to 'change' then calls me upstairs.
More furious vigourous hiding of the salchicha.
Pretty fuckin awsome as the Australians would say.
Feels nice banging it into a young lass of 22.
At 22
... she is the youngest woman
... that I have fucked for years
... as I said I really prefer my ladies in the 27 to 37 yrs old age-bracket.
However as I said before if it there on offer and the lass wants a shag ... never say no ...!!
More on neighbour Julie's pal Sharon de la Knocking-shop
Anyway I was sitting in the neighbours house chin-wagging with the Yorkshire lasses in question.
Sharon suddenly pipes up and then announces the reason / purpose of her visit.
Seems she wants a hand adjust the set-top box on her FreeView machine for her Idiot's Latern.
My neighbour has many talents being a single parent you realise ... but tuning in the set-top box for the telly is one of her many skills.
"Hey He can help ya Shazzah babes ..." my neighbour pipes up almost as if the whole incident was planned to almost military perfection.
So we both jump in Sharon's BMW.
Then drive to a POSH SUBURB of Wakefield.
"Just sit down whilst I go change!"
Mmmmmmmmmm I think to myself.
"C'mon up honey the telly is in this room up here ...!"
Honey??
Well you can guess what is coming next can't you??
I climb two steep flightas of narrow stairs in one of these rabbit-hutches young folks pay 180 grand mortgages for these days here in Yorkshire.
Sharon re-appears only wearing her bra and panties..
Well what do you do ...
... never look a gift horse in the mouth.
Before I knew where I was she had motioned me onto the bed and we were both naked and shagging vigorously.
Lovely too I might add.
Started off in missionary with her on her back with her beatiful legs up around my waist.
Then she sat up on top of me wrapped in a tight embrace with her arms and legs in a tight knot around my back
... and her tongue thrusting up and down my throat.Finished off banging her with her balanced on her hands and knees doing her doggy-style whilst looking at her face in the bedside mirror.
Quickly spun her around and finished on top of her
... both of us panting and sweating at this point in time
... lovely it was as well.
So that was my intro to my neighbour's pal.
Needless to say I never cracked a light to my now former wife.
Sharon suddenly pipes up and then announces the reason / purpose of her visit.
Seems she wants a hand adjust the set-top box on her FreeView machine for her Idiot's Latern.
My neighbour has many talents being a single parent you realise ... but tuning in the set-top box for the telly is one of her many skills.
"Hey He can help ya Shazzah babes ..." my neighbour pipes up almost as if the whole incident was planned to almost military perfection.
So we both jump in Sharon's BMW.
Then drive to a POSH SUBURB of Wakefield.
"Just sit down whilst I go change!"
Mmmmmmmmmm I think to myself.
"C'mon up honey the telly is in this room up here ...!"
Honey??
Well you can guess what is coming next can't you??
I climb two steep flightas of narrow stairs in one of these rabbit-hutches young folks pay 180 grand mortgages for these days here in Yorkshire.
Sharon re-appears only wearing her bra and panties..
Well what do you do ...
... never look a gift horse in the mouth.
Before I knew where I was she had motioned me onto the bed and we were both naked and shagging vigorously.
Lovely too I might add.
Started off in missionary with her on her back with her beatiful legs up around my waist.
Then she sat up on top of me wrapped in a tight embrace with her arms and legs in a tight knot around my back
... and her tongue thrusting up and down my throat.Finished off banging her with her balanced on her hands and knees doing her doggy-style whilst looking at her face in the bedside mirror.
Quickly spun her around and finished on top of her
... both of us panting and sweating at this point in time
... lovely it was as well.
So that was my intro to my neighbour's pal.
Needless to say I never cracked a light to my now former wife.
Sharon the wee shag
As I said previously Sharon is quite a tasty well built blonde lass in her late 20's.
Probably does quite well in the Massage Parlour where she sells her pussy too no doubt ... I would imigine she is well in demand for her feminine charms.
yon dunder-heid President Hussain O'Wanker
Exiting the building, a throng of excitement enveloped him as journalists jockeyed for position
“Excuse me Sir … NBC News Sir … do you care to comment on your meeting with the Israeli Prime Minister … on the Iranian nuclear situation Mr President Sir?”
Barrack Obama walked past the journalists to the awaiting vehicle.
His aides ushered him into the car. His wife followed behind.
“Barney can you check if the British guy … what’s his name …?”
“You mean Prime Minister Brown Sir?”
“Yea Barney him!”
“Yes Sir the British Ambassador is waiting to see you in Washington.”
“Ahh good Barney … I suppose for the sake of the Press we have to keep up appearances huh … can’t have media speculation run wild about snubs … or the end of the so-called Special Relationship we have with the British … all this idle talk of it going stale now … can we Barney?”
“No Sireeh Sir … I will issue a statement right away to quash rumours that you and Prime Minister Brown are not on good terms Sir!”
“Thanks … Jesus Christ Barney is there any rum in that drinks cabinet there … I could sure use one!”
His wife Michele suddenly piped up.
“Darling it’s way too early for alcohol … what happened to your healthy lifestyle you were on about … to that guy from Californian radio about yesterday … come now darling have some cranberry juice instead!”
Obama ignored her and stretched out for the large glass of booze his aide had just retrieved from the limousine’s drinks cabinet.
He swallowed it rapidly conscious that he only had a few minutes till his next speaking engagement.
“Mr President I have the British Ambassador on the line now … he says he would like you to meet his boss Mr. Brown this afternoon in New York … what shall I tell him Sir?”
“Oh hell the usual bullshit Alfred … tell him I have a full schedule and that Mr Brown will be postponed till I have spoken with Angela the German Chancellor and that French guy … ahh Sarcozy?”
“Ok Sir … ahh hello … you still there pal … ahh good … the President is meeting the French Prime Minister today and then later with the German leader Mrs Merkel … we … ahhh … can’t slot your guy in today unfortunately!”
They arrived at the next venue and were ushered inside quickly.
Obama walked to the podium as the aide announced.
“Ladies and gentlemen … the President of the United States!”
“Excuse me Sir … NBC News Sir … do you care to comment on your meeting with the Israeli Prime Minister … on the Iranian nuclear situation Mr President Sir?”
Barrack Obama walked past the journalists to the awaiting vehicle.
His aides ushered him into the car. His wife followed behind.
“Barney can you check if the British guy … what’s his name …?”
“You mean Prime Minister Brown Sir?”
“Yea Barney him!”
“Yes Sir the British Ambassador is waiting to see you in Washington.”
“Ahh good Barney … I suppose for the sake of the Press we have to keep up appearances huh … can’t have media speculation run wild about snubs … or the end of the so-called Special Relationship we have with the British … all this idle talk of it going stale now … can we Barney?”
“No Sireeh Sir … I will issue a statement right away to quash rumours that you and Prime Minister Brown are not on good terms Sir!”
“Thanks … Jesus Christ Barney is there any rum in that drinks cabinet there … I could sure use one!”
His wife Michele suddenly piped up.
“Darling it’s way too early for alcohol … what happened to your healthy lifestyle you were on about … to that guy from Californian radio about yesterday … come now darling have some cranberry juice instead!”
Obama ignored her and stretched out for the large glass of booze his aide had just retrieved from the limousine’s drinks cabinet.
He swallowed it rapidly conscious that he only had a few minutes till his next speaking engagement.
“Mr President I have the British Ambassador on the line now … he says he would like you to meet his boss Mr. Brown this afternoon in New York … what shall I tell him Sir?”
“Oh hell the usual bullshit Alfred … tell him I have a full schedule and that Mr Brown will be postponed till I have spoken with Angela the German Chancellor and that French guy … ahh Sarcozy?”
“Ok Sir … ahh hello … you still there pal … ahh good … the President is meeting the French Prime Minister today and then later with the German leader Mrs Merkel … we … ahhh … can’t slot your guy in today unfortunately!”
They arrived at the next venue and were ushered inside quickly.
Obama walked to the podium as the aide announced.
“Ladies and gentlemen … the President of the United States!”
A tour of the local rural dods ... and the sexy ladies in North Yorkshire
Ginny’s bra is in a wee bit of a twist
Loop_Quadrature;
Boroughbridge has a cute wee High Street leading to a square housing war memorial statues and memorials.
Boroughbridge is another small North Yorkshire market town like many others. It has a Morrison’s supermercado adjacent to the motorway exit from Leeds. It was a sunny warm late September morning when Kenny parked on the main drag adjacent to the women’s lingerie store and the estate agent’s shop.
A young woman in her early 20’s chatted loudly on her mobile phone to her friend. She was a tall Yorkshire blonde with a red frilly shirt dressed in a pair of riding boots with jodhpurs.
“I say … steady on Camilla, I do know what you are talking about actually … I ain’t just some dumb Limey blonde bitch actually!”
She pursed her lips and awaited the reply.
Kenny looked around, the girl who worked at the bra shop came out onto the pavement and lit a Benson.
The jodhpurs lass continued defending her corner on her phone.
The shop assistant waived at her then drew on her fag.
Five years previously in 2004, Kenny had stood on the very same high street cuddling Cindy.
“C’mon babes … old hag there in the Blue-rinse is giving us filthy look and I’d say that it looks like we shouldn’t snog here!” She gave the old woman a derisive grin then slapped his bum.
“C’mon let’s go get shagged … that old bag hasn’t done that … for at least 40 years … excuse me dear … can you move yer broomstick so we can get past? There now my dear … that wasn’t too hard ehh … come now Kenneth I need a damn good Rogering … let’s go!”
Cindy’s mum lived in nearby Mallard Walk, in a rather large house she purchased after receiving a large pay-out from a recently deceased sister.
“C’mon … let’s do it on the swing here in the garden!” Cindy grinned pushing him gently down onto the improvised swing then she straddled him and pushed her knickers aside under her mini-kilt.
Cindy’s phone rang and she picked it up.
The signal suddenly failed and the screen echoed:
‘… call ended … emergency calls only …’
They carried on shagging.
Meanwhile back in 2009, Kenny’s phone rang.
It was the Diora Baird look-alike lawyer lass he had seen at the motorway services in Wetherby.
“Hi stranger … how’s things Ken? … bet you never thought I’d use this number when you gave it me that night huh?”
“Christ Jayne … is that you? How lovely to hear from you again!”
He walked past Ginny’s Ladies wear shop and stood on the ally next to Hunter’s Estate Agent’s.
The horse-riding lass had finished talking to pal Camilla and stood chatting with her other pal from the bra shop nearby.
“Hi Penelope … gosh I have not seen you … Ohh since that afternoon in Marton cum Grafton at the Punch Bowl pub … do you remember Sandra my friend from school … she said you looked all exotic after your trip to Harvey Nick’s in Leeds … wow Penny … you look tanned!”
“Yes just back from Bermuda on my jollies!”
“Yes I was in Harvey Nick’s yester with Julian … you know him that cute pilot from RAF Linton on Ouse?”
“Ohh yes … he is a sweetie hmmm!” Penelope grinned with a hint of jealousy vaguely camouflaged by the smile.
Kenny continued with Jayne as the two young ladies went inside the bra shop. Kenny asked Jayne to meet him.
“Can’t hun … my sister in Harrogate is having a dinner party and I have to get organised … how about tomorrow?”
He hung up as Penelope and the other lass exited then crossed the street to the coffee shop.
It had laid out some tables in the pavement and a group of touring cyclists sat drinking coffee outside.
Cindy had worked briefly at the café as a waitress.
His mobile rang again.
“Listen I can meet you in Boroughbridge Morrison’s if you fancy at 15:45hrs … how’s that sound?”
“Yea brilliant Jayne … see you there!”
He drove down to Knaresborough to collect a computer from Ben.
At 14:58hrs he bid Ben a fond farewell then got back to return to Boroughbridge.
Jayne was sat on the wall at the front entrance when he drove past the petrol station and into the supermarket car park. She wore a revealing pink mini-dress with red ankle boots. She also wore expensive jewellery.
She stood up to hug and greet him, her large breasts pressed tightly to his chest seductively.
“Coffee??” he asked.
“Nahh hun I got one here!” Jayne smiled looking good enough to eat.
He had forgotten in the intervening two months what a strikingly gorgeous tall graceful example of Yorkshire beauty Jayne actually was.
She lifted her Ray-Ban’s off the table and followed him inside.
Penelope and the girl sat inside at a table chatting in an animated loud fashion. Jayne balanced on the end of the counter as the waitress fetched a coffee and two buns.
“Sit down and I can bring it Sir!” she smiled at him.
Jayne and Kenny went back outside where the group had gathered their bicycles and were setting off now.
Jayne flirted openly and sat her arm on his leg under the table.
The young lass brought the food and coffee.
“Can I have a fresh black coffee please?”
“Certainly Madam … one moment … ehh that’s four sixty please Sir!”
Suddenly the frantic looking proprietor of Ginny’s appeared with a worried facial expression on her coupon.
“My daughter has fallen off her horse can you and your pal watch the shop? Here’s the keys … I have to go to York General Infirmary!”
The two lasses left rapidly as the woman passed the clothes shop keys and jumped into her awaiting BMW X5.
Kenny and Jayne observed them casually.
The wheels of the German 4 by 4 span and burnt rubber as she sped off up the High Street towards the bend near the monument.
Penelope unlocked the shop and they both went inside.
She dialled Camilla.
“Can’t meet you Cams … got to help in a small crisis here in the town!”
“Hey c’mon forget that jealous bitch … I need to go see Michael!” the other girl barked sharply and ran back out into the street.
“Mike … I will be late … catch you soon babes!” she frowned then ran off back to Penelope. Michael stood scratching his head outside Hunter’s.
Jayne gently took Kenny’s hand and brush it near her panties.
“Feel how wet I am?”
“Aye … yer gaggin’ furrit huh?” he laughed semi-mockingly.
“Kenny … sweetheart … don’t mock the afflicted darling!”
“Suppose we should go someplace and I’ll give ya a servicing then hen!”
Jayne had a friend in Grafton, the next village down towards the A59 turnoff of the A1(M).
Marton cum Grafton is relatively affluent, like other nearby villages.
They drove past the Punch Bowl pub and the Post Office then up a side street to a house with a large garden.
“Helen and hubs are off in California … you can shag me here honey!”
The sex was fast and furious whilst Jayne howled and he groaned.
Regaining their post-coital breaths they sat up in bed.
“Nice wee house yer pal and her husband have here Jayne.”
“Yea … why can’t they all be Californians huh!” she purred gently kissing his neck whilst his hand slid around her waist.
“Let’s go to the village pub for a wee drink!” he grinned.
The Punch Bowl has a beer garden which was full of parents and young kids running around whooping.
“Didn’t take long to walk here ehh?”
“Nahh Jayne ye got that right babe!” He watched as Jayne took of her sun glasses then they went inside to order.
“Hot day ehh?” the bar maid grinned.
Jayne drew her fingers thru her long blonde hair as she paid the lass.
“My treat!” she laughed.
“Aye sit doon ya randy bitch!” he laughed as they sat down.
“Hmmmm … wazz-ooop lad?”
“You Leeds lawyers are all wee hornpieces really huh?”
“Oooohh … so that’s what you tell yer Loiner lady friends huh?”
“Nahh I used to know a lawyer girl from Skipton … about 8 years ago … but she wasn’t as demure … and quite as godamn sexy as you!”
Jayne gave him a pussycat smile then sipped her wine.
She shook her tits in mock shock then stirred his ice into the Red Bull.
A group of five women and three blokes sat at the next table talking about the economic recession and recent local business failures.
“Jayne … what brings you to our humble hostelry then?”
“Ohh hi Samantha … thought it was you … thought you had moved to Birmingham or something?”
Samantha was a tall auburn haired slim woman in her mid 30’s.
“Nope I just got engaged to Simon here …!” she smiled pointing to her 40 something partner who sat in a pair of blue jeans and a designer short-sleeved black shirt.
“So Sam are you still a lawyer?”
“Nahh Jayne … had three kids and I work from home via the Web.”
“So what’s Simon do?”
“Well apart from finally making an honest woman of me … he runs shops and office premises!”
“Aw facilities management huh? So you telecommute in between wiping food from baby’s mouths huh?”
Three young late teenage lasses entered dressed in shorts and mini-skirts, they were joined by 3 young men at the bar.
“Polly … don’t forget to clean your room!” Samantha curtly ordered one of the teen girls. Her daughter dismissed the motherly comments and continued talking with one of the young lads.
“Hi Mrs. Davis … my mum asked me to say hello!” another young girl smiled as her pal continued ignoring her mum.
Jayne and Kenny exited into the sunshine to go fetch the car.
Loop_Quadrature;
Boroughbridge has a cute wee High Street leading to a square housing war memorial statues and memorials.
Boroughbridge is another small North Yorkshire market town like many others. It has a Morrison’s supermercado adjacent to the motorway exit from Leeds. It was a sunny warm late September morning when Kenny parked on the main drag adjacent to the women’s lingerie store and the estate agent’s shop.
A young woman in her early 20’s chatted loudly on her mobile phone to her friend. She was a tall Yorkshire blonde with a red frilly shirt dressed in a pair of riding boots with jodhpurs.
“I say … steady on Camilla, I do know what you are talking about actually … I ain’t just some dumb Limey blonde bitch actually!”
She pursed her lips and awaited the reply.
Kenny looked around, the girl who worked at the bra shop came out onto the pavement and lit a Benson.
The jodhpurs lass continued defending her corner on her phone.
The shop assistant waived at her then drew on her fag.
Five years previously in 2004, Kenny had stood on the very same high street cuddling Cindy.
“C’mon babes … old hag there in the Blue-rinse is giving us filthy look and I’d say that it looks like we shouldn’t snog here!” She gave the old woman a derisive grin then slapped his bum.
“C’mon let’s go get shagged … that old bag hasn’t done that … for at least 40 years … excuse me dear … can you move yer broomstick so we can get past? There now my dear … that wasn’t too hard ehh … come now Kenneth I need a damn good Rogering … let’s go!”
Cindy’s mum lived in nearby Mallard Walk, in a rather large house she purchased after receiving a large pay-out from a recently deceased sister.
“C’mon … let’s do it on the swing here in the garden!” Cindy grinned pushing him gently down onto the improvised swing then she straddled him and pushed her knickers aside under her mini-kilt.
Cindy’s phone rang and she picked it up.
The signal suddenly failed and the screen echoed:
‘… call ended … emergency calls only …’
They carried on shagging.
Meanwhile back in 2009, Kenny’s phone rang.
It was the Diora Baird look-alike lawyer lass he had seen at the motorway services in Wetherby.
“Hi stranger … how’s things Ken? … bet you never thought I’d use this number when you gave it me that night huh?”
“Christ Jayne … is that you? How lovely to hear from you again!”
He walked past Ginny’s Ladies wear shop and stood on the ally next to Hunter’s Estate Agent’s.
The horse-riding lass had finished talking to pal Camilla and stood chatting with her other pal from the bra shop nearby.
“Hi Penelope … gosh I have not seen you … Ohh since that afternoon in Marton cum Grafton at the Punch Bowl pub … do you remember Sandra my friend from school … she said you looked all exotic after your trip to Harvey Nick’s in Leeds … wow Penny … you look tanned!”
“Yes just back from Bermuda on my jollies!”
“Yes I was in Harvey Nick’s yester with Julian … you know him that cute pilot from RAF Linton on Ouse?”
“Ohh yes … he is a sweetie hmmm!” Penelope grinned with a hint of jealousy vaguely camouflaged by the smile.
Kenny continued with Jayne as the two young ladies went inside the bra shop. Kenny asked Jayne to meet him.
“Can’t hun … my sister in Harrogate is having a dinner party and I have to get organised … how about tomorrow?”
He hung up as Penelope and the other lass exited then crossed the street to the coffee shop.
It had laid out some tables in the pavement and a group of touring cyclists sat drinking coffee outside.
Cindy had worked briefly at the café as a waitress.
His mobile rang again.
“Listen I can meet you in Boroughbridge Morrison’s if you fancy at 15:45hrs … how’s that sound?”
“Yea brilliant Jayne … see you there!”
He drove down to Knaresborough to collect a computer from Ben.
At 14:58hrs he bid Ben a fond farewell then got back to return to Boroughbridge.
Jayne was sat on the wall at the front entrance when he drove past the petrol station and into the supermarket car park. She wore a revealing pink mini-dress with red ankle boots. She also wore expensive jewellery.
She stood up to hug and greet him, her large breasts pressed tightly to his chest seductively.
“Coffee??” he asked.
“Nahh hun I got one here!” Jayne smiled looking good enough to eat.
He had forgotten in the intervening two months what a strikingly gorgeous tall graceful example of Yorkshire beauty Jayne actually was.
She lifted her Ray-Ban’s off the table and followed him inside.
Penelope and the girl sat inside at a table chatting in an animated loud fashion. Jayne balanced on the end of the counter as the waitress fetched a coffee and two buns.
“Sit down and I can bring it Sir!” she smiled at him.
Jayne and Kenny went back outside where the group had gathered their bicycles and were setting off now.
Jayne flirted openly and sat her arm on his leg under the table.
The young lass brought the food and coffee.
“Can I have a fresh black coffee please?”
“Certainly Madam … one moment … ehh that’s four sixty please Sir!”
Suddenly the frantic looking proprietor of Ginny’s appeared with a worried facial expression on her coupon.
“My daughter has fallen off her horse can you and your pal watch the shop? Here’s the keys … I have to go to York General Infirmary!”
The two lasses left rapidly as the woman passed the clothes shop keys and jumped into her awaiting BMW X5.
Kenny and Jayne observed them casually.
The wheels of the German 4 by 4 span and burnt rubber as she sped off up the High Street towards the bend near the monument.
Penelope unlocked the shop and they both went inside.
She dialled Camilla.
“Can’t meet you Cams … got to help in a small crisis here in the town!”
“Hey c’mon forget that jealous bitch … I need to go see Michael!” the other girl barked sharply and ran back out into the street.
“Mike … I will be late … catch you soon babes!” she frowned then ran off back to Penelope. Michael stood scratching his head outside Hunter’s.
Jayne gently took Kenny’s hand and brush it near her panties.
“Feel how wet I am?”
“Aye … yer gaggin’ furrit huh?” he laughed semi-mockingly.
“Kenny … sweetheart … don’t mock the afflicted darling!”
“Suppose we should go someplace and I’ll give ya a servicing then hen!”
Jayne had a friend in Grafton, the next village down towards the A59 turnoff of the A1(M).
Marton cum Grafton is relatively affluent, like other nearby villages.
They drove past the Punch Bowl pub and the Post Office then up a side street to a house with a large garden.
“Helen and hubs are off in California … you can shag me here honey!”
The sex was fast and furious whilst Jayne howled and he groaned.
Regaining their post-coital breaths they sat up in bed.
“Nice wee house yer pal and her husband have here Jayne.”
“Yea … why can’t they all be Californians huh!” she purred gently kissing his neck whilst his hand slid around her waist.
“Let’s go to the village pub for a wee drink!” he grinned.
The Punch Bowl has a beer garden which was full of parents and young kids running around whooping.
“Didn’t take long to walk here ehh?”
“Nahh Jayne ye got that right babe!” He watched as Jayne took of her sun glasses then they went inside to order.
“Hot day ehh?” the bar maid grinned.
Jayne drew her fingers thru her long blonde hair as she paid the lass.
“My treat!” she laughed.
“Aye sit doon ya randy bitch!” he laughed as they sat down.
“Hmmmm … wazz-ooop lad?”
“You Leeds lawyers are all wee hornpieces really huh?”
“Oooohh … so that’s what you tell yer Loiner lady friends huh?”
“Nahh I used to know a lawyer girl from Skipton … about 8 years ago … but she wasn’t as demure … and quite as godamn sexy as you!”
Jayne gave him a pussycat smile then sipped her wine.
She shook her tits in mock shock then stirred his ice into the Red Bull.
A group of five women and three blokes sat at the next table talking about the economic recession and recent local business failures.
“Jayne … what brings you to our humble hostelry then?”
“Ohh hi Samantha … thought it was you … thought you had moved to Birmingham or something?”
Samantha was a tall auburn haired slim woman in her mid 30’s.
“Nope I just got engaged to Simon here …!” she smiled pointing to her 40 something partner who sat in a pair of blue jeans and a designer short-sleeved black shirt.
“So Sam are you still a lawyer?”
“Nahh Jayne … had three kids and I work from home via the Web.”
“So what’s Simon do?”
“Well apart from finally making an honest woman of me … he runs shops and office premises!”
“Aw facilities management huh? So you telecommute in between wiping food from baby’s mouths huh?”
Three young late teenage lasses entered dressed in shorts and mini-skirts, they were joined by 3 young men at the bar.
“Polly … don’t forget to clean your room!” Samantha curtly ordered one of the teen girls. Her daughter dismissed the motherly comments and continued talking with one of the young lads.
“Hi Mrs. Davis … my mum asked me to say hello!” another young girl smiled as her pal continued ignoring her mum.
Jayne and Kenny exited into the sunshine to go fetch the car.
Distraction ... to help you understand my local area
David was at a hotel in Sheffield, had an arrangement to meet senor Martinez and his wife off the plane at Manchester Airport.
Unfortunately the Martinez’s plane was delayed and the next available flight from Buenos Aires did not arrive till that night.
It was 11:00hrs on Monday now.
Bored and seeking distraction he flicked through the chapters of a crap DVD the hotel receptionist had given him … the usual gung-ho Hollywood garbagio. The All-American asshole in a situation who flirts with death to get the job done properly.
David had been head-hunted from the University of Glasgow after graduation, had risen through the ranks fast, moved from one branch of the I.T. firm to another before become a Director at 28 years of age.
Now ten years on, as he approached his 38th birthday, he was divorced and now working for his original employer’s rival. He earned 93 grand a year. Sally his ex-wife and wee Davey his son got a small portion of that in alimony. However Sally had left him for Pete, the Sales Director.
Pete was wealthy enough that the Child Support Agency did not push too hard … so David still had a significant amount of disposable income once his mortgage and bills were paid each month.
Sally was from Aberdeen, the daughter of a Mud Engineer who worked in North Sea oil.
They had originally met at Uni.
David had gone to an ordinary working class school in Glasgow, but was fortunate enough to be academically successful.
It was an October day in 2007 now.
MartÃnez rang his móvil.
“Hola Enrique… como estas?” David replied.
His client explained that adverse weather conditions in Argentina had delayed the flight a couple more hours.
“We won’t get there till Wednesday night David!” Enrique moaned.
David would have to hang around that crummy hotel one extra night now.
He drove around Barnsley and was about to head back toward Sheffield when his petrol low warning light flashed.
A girl in her mid-twenties pushing a pram stopped as he leaned out the window to ask if there was a nearby garage.
Without even asking, she jumped into his car.
“I am going that way … to collect the daughter … from the doctor’s clinic, give me a lift and I can show you.”
She was dress in grey track-suit bottoms slightly soiled; a red jersey; and a blue anorak type jacket and pink ankle boots.
“Sorry about the smell … it’s little’un’s vomit …!”
“My names Claire … and you?” she grinned in her broad South Yorks accent, puffing on her Silk Cut.
He told her his name and she took him two miles to the petrol station.
“The fuckin’ bus is late and the doctor’s receptionist is a cheeky cow when I am late … thanks for the lift … nice car … is it a Mercedes?”
David nodded and explained that it was an SLK Limited Edition.
“Ahh burr it’s still a Merc yea?”
“Yea that’s right love.”
Claire was quite pleased and obviously impressed by the apparent wealth of her new-found driver. She pointed suddenly.
“It’s there David … if I pop in this shop you can get petrol while I buy nappies … then you can meet my little Shelly at the doctor’s if you fancy … we could go furrah cuppa at that café there.”
She pointed to the café in the parade of grubby shops.
Claire was sat in the passenger side tuning in some loud dance music radio station as he got back from paying at the kiosk.
“It’s Galaxy 105 … really bangin’ tunes they play on Galaxy.”
“You like to dance then Claire?”
“Yea … five years ago … I worked in clubs … knew all the DJ’s … even spent a summer in Ibiza … then … yon eejit Michael … got me pregnant in 2003 … he fucked off soon after Shelly arrived in 2004 … bastard DJ prick … left me for some slapper from London he met at Creamfields … total cunt … he gave me nothing … said Shelly was some other blokes … then he disappeared … left me with absolutely nothing … I got a shitey Council House … and his mum sometimes send a birthday card for Shelly.” Claire was quite animated as she recalled her recent past.
He sat in the reception area of the Clinic whilst Claire retrieved her daughter; the receptionist gave David the eagle eye, making him feel uncomfortable and eager to leave.
Claire re-appeared with the baby girl in her arm.
“Let’s go mate …” she then turned to the receptionist … “yea bye now … ya jealous old bag … enjoy Eastenders won’t you sad old fucker!!”
Out in the car park her focus turned to her daughter.
Self absorbed in her baby … and its endless demands … Claire blanked David out.
“Fancy coffee in town instead?”
“Not fussed … can we go somewhere with a toilet? … this one needs her shitty nappy changin’!”
The staff at Café Nero gave Claire the eyeball because she was loud.
“Posh here ehh … this coffee is fancy ehh!!” she grinned.
Claire sat close; David could almost smell her perfume above the smell of vomit and faeces.
“Shelly got a tummy bug … can’t keep her food down … she leaks and both ends … don’t ya darlin’!” Claire grinned half focused on him.
“Can the young lady move the babies pram please … it is blocking the corridor.” Bill the Duty Manager firmly requested.
David got a text confirming the Martinez’s flight plans.
“Fancy mobey … what network is yer phone?”
“Vodafone.”
Claire sat Shelly on her lap as she finished her coffee.
“You hungry? It’s just I got this expense account dinner thing and you seem like a nice lass … I will treat you.”
Claire gave him a huge grin and nudged him affectionately.
“Your hotel is in Sheffield … we can drop Shelly at my mum’s on the way … I need to change clothes though … and I need kids clothes to give me mum … I live near here … it ain’t outta yer way is it?”
“No problem …!”
Claire lived in as he expected a run down Council estate on the outskirts of Barnsley.
Blair and Brown’s Boom had passed it by … deliberately.
“Watch the settee love Shelly puked on it earlier.”
She disappeared upstairs then shouted down to him.
“Put on the telly … I’ll share a bath with the little’ un … saves me on my Gas Bill love … make yerself comfortable.”
Water flushed and flowed above as he plugged in his laptop.
David inserted the Mobile Broadband dongle into the USB Port and went online.
“… Establishing Internet Connection …!” it echoed. Forty minutes passed. A vision of loveliness re-entered the room.
Claire was transformed into a very attractive and reasonably dressed girl.
“Got this gear from a posh shop in Meadowhall at the sales.”
Claire now stood in a white blouse, unbuttoned to her bra; a short tartan mini skirt; black tights and black leather ankle stilettos. “Ya like it??”
She span around on her heels, he grinned back his approval.
Her hair was shoulder length and a curly auburnish brown.
She had previously had it tied back in a ponytail.
“You look beautiful Claire.”
“Shelly is asleep … I will fetch her … you could take the pram and this travel bag out to the car if ya fancy.”
Out in the car, they drove to her mum’s.
“Yea mum, I am going off to a night out … with a nice guy! She put her mobile back in her pocket … “good to get a break” … “… I don’t get much adult company … it’s nice … to get a rest … from kid’s cartoons and fuckin Bob … the Bloody Builder and those Teletubbies …!”
He pulled up past her mother’s house.
Claire jumped out with the pram under one arm; the kit-bag slung over her shoulder; and Shelly fast asleep in her other arm.
She dashed quickly into her mother’s house.
120 seconds later she was back in his car. She kissed him on the cheek.
“Drive mate … let’s go afore mum changes her mind.”
Claire’s demeanour changed completely … she was no longer a single parent worn down with worries and woes … she was now in party mode.
“Ya hungry then?”
“Aw yea Dave!” She replied, shifting his hand off the gear stick onto her kneecap gently. A wave of passion passed over him.
“Pull over at this lay-by …I want to show ya sumfin!”
He indicated and pulled over.
The handbrake was barely on and she though her arms around him.
She planted … a very passionate kiss … he was taken aback
… by how forward she was.
Her blouse was off
… and her skirt at her ankles within two minutes.
“Wanna shag here … or at yer hotel David?”
“Jesus … too right … we will get arrested here in this lay-by!!”
She pulled up her tights and skirt and re-buttoned her blouse.
Back at the hotel, they both undressed quickly.
The sheets were now wet and their breathing returned to normal.
“There is a Jacuzzi in there!!” he smiled.
“Nahh … let’s just lie still for five!” She replied.
Martinez suddenly tapped him on the shoulder.
“Come on Davie laddie … you were light years away there man … what happened you suddenly lost your focus … are you going senile on us amigo … come on wake up buddy!!”
“Sorry Enrique … will we stop for coffee … huh?
… I just … uhhhh
… well
… I had a daft dream
… about some local chica that I met at the petrol station this afternoon!”
Unfortunately the Martinez’s plane was delayed and the next available flight from Buenos Aires did not arrive till that night.
It was 11:00hrs on Monday now.
Bored and seeking distraction he flicked through the chapters of a crap DVD the hotel receptionist had given him … the usual gung-ho Hollywood garbagio. The All-American asshole in a situation who flirts with death to get the job done properly.
David had been head-hunted from the University of Glasgow after graduation, had risen through the ranks fast, moved from one branch of the I.T. firm to another before become a Director at 28 years of age.
Now ten years on, as he approached his 38th birthday, he was divorced and now working for his original employer’s rival. He earned 93 grand a year. Sally his ex-wife and wee Davey his son got a small portion of that in alimony. However Sally had left him for Pete, the Sales Director.
Pete was wealthy enough that the Child Support Agency did not push too hard … so David still had a significant amount of disposable income once his mortgage and bills were paid each month.
Sally was from Aberdeen, the daughter of a Mud Engineer who worked in North Sea oil.
They had originally met at Uni.
David had gone to an ordinary working class school in Glasgow, but was fortunate enough to be academically successful.
It was an October day in 2007 now.
MartÃnez rang his móvil.
“Hola Enrique… como estas?” David replied.
His client explained that adverse weather conditions in Argentina had delayed the flight a couple more hours.
“We won’t get there till Wednesday night David!” Enrique moaned.
David would have to hang around that crummy hotel one extra night now.
He drove around Barnsley and was about to head back toward Sheffield when his petrol low warning light flashed.
A girl in her mid-twenties pushing a pram stopped as he leaned out the window to ask if there was a nearby garage.
Without even asking, she jumped into his car.
“I am going that way … to collect the daughter … from the doctor’s clinic, give me a lift and I can show you.”
She was dress in grey track-suit bottoms slightly soiled; a red jersey; and a blue anorak type jacket and pink ankle boots.
“Sorry about the smell … it’s little’un’s vomit …!”
“My names Claire … and you?” she grinned in her broad South Yorks accent, puffing on her Silk Cut.
He told her his name and she took him two miles to the petrol station.
“The fuckin’ bus is late and the doctor’s receptionist is a cheeky cow when I am late … thanks for the lift … nice car … is it a Mercedes?”
David nodded and explained that it was an SLK Limited Edition.
“Ahh burr it’s still a Merc yea?”
“Yea that’s right love.”
Claire was quite pleased and obviously impressed by the apparent wealth of her new-found driver. She pointed suddenly.
“It’s there David … if I pop in this shop you can get petrol while I buy nappies … then you can meet my little Shelly at the doctor’s if you fancy … we could go furrah cuppa at that café there.”
She pointed to the café in the parade of grubby shops.
Claire was sat in the passenger side tuning in some loud dance music radio station as he got back from paying at the kiosk.
“It’s Galaxy 105 … really bangin’ tunes they play on Galaxy.”
“You like to dance then Claire?”
“Yea … five years ago … I worked in clubs … knew all the DJ’s … even spent a summer in Ibiza … then … yon eejit Michael … got me pregnant in 2003 … he fucked off soon after Shelly arrived in 2004 … bastard DJ prick … left me for some slapper from London he met at Creamfields … total cunt … he gave me nothing … said Shelly was some other blokes … then he disappeared … left me with absolutely nothing … I got a shitey Council House … and his mum sometimes send a birthday card for Shelly.” Claire was quite animated as she recalled her recent past.
He sat in the reception area of the Clinic whilst Claire retrieved her daughter; the receptionist gave David the eagle eye, making him feel uncomfortable and eager to leave.
Claire re-appeared with the baby girl in her arm.
“Let’s go mate …” she then turned to the receptionist … “yea bye now … ya jealous old bag … enjoy Eastenders won’t you sad old fucker!!”
Out in the car park her focus turned to her daughter.
Self absorbed in her baby … and its endless demands … Claire blanked David out.
“Fancy coffee in town instead?”
“Not fussed … can we go somewhere with a toilet? … this one needs her shitty nappy changin’!”
The staff at Café Nero gave Claire the eyeball because she was loud.
“Posh here ehh … this coffee is fancy ehh!!” she grinned.
Claire sat close; David could almost smell her perfume above the smell of vomit and faeces.
“Shelly got a tummy bug … can’t keep her food down … she leaks and both ends … don’t ya darlin’!” Claire grinned half focused on him.
“Can the young lady move the babies pram please … it is blocking the corridor.” Bill the Duty Manager firmly requested.
David got a text confirming the Martinez’s flight plans.
“Fancy mobey … what network is yer phone?”
“Vodafone.”
Claire sat Shelly on her lap as she finished her coffee.
“You hungry? It’s just I got this expense account dinner thing and you seem like a nice lass … I will treat you.”
Claire gave him a huge grin and nudged him affectionately.
“Your hotel is in Sheffield … we can drop Shelly at my mum’s on the way … I need to change clothes though … and I need kids clothes to give me mum … I live near here … it ain’t outta yer way is it?”
“No problem …!”
Claire lived in as he expected a run down Council estate on the outskirts of Barnsley.
Blair and Brown’s Boom had passed it by … deliberately.
“Watch the settee love Shelly puked on it earlier.”
She disappeared upstairs then shouted down to him.
“Put on the telly … I’ll share a bath with the little’ un … saves me on my Gas Bill love … make yerself comfortable.”
Water flushed and flowed above as he plugged in his laptop.
David inserted the Mobile Broadband dongle into the USB Port and went online.
“… Establishing Internet Connection …!” it echoed. Forty minutes passed. A vision of loveliness re-entered the room.
Claire was transformed into a very attractive and reasonably dressed girl.
“Got this gear from a posh shop in Meadowhall at the sales.”
Claire now stood in a white blouse, unbuttoned to her bra; a short tartan mini skirt; black tights and black leather ankle stilettos. “Ya like it??”
She span around on her heels, he grinned back his approval.
Her hair was shoulder length and a curly auburnish brown.
She had previously had it tied back in a ponytail.
“You look beautiful Claire.”
“Shelly is asleep … I will fetch her … you could take the pram and this travel bag out to the car if ya fancy.”
Out in the car, they drove to her mum’s.
“Yea mum, I am going off to a night out … with a nice guy! She put her mobile back in her pocket … “good to get a break” … “… I don’t get much adult company … it’s nice … to get a rest … from kid’s cartoons and fuckin Bob … the Bloody Builder and those Teletubbies …!”
He pulled up past her mother’s house.
Claire jumped out with the pram under one arm; the kit-bag slung over her shoulder; and Shelly fast asleep in her other arm.
She dashed quickly into her mother’s house.
120 seconds later she was back in his car. She kissed him on the cheek.
“Drive mate … let’s go afore mum changes her mind.”
Claire’s demeanour changed completely … she was no longer a single parent worn down with worries and woes … she was now in party mode.
“Ya hungry then?”
“Aw yea Dave!” She replied, shifting his hand off the gear stick onto her kneecap gently. A wave of passion passed over him.
“Pull over at this lay-by …I want to show ya sumfin!”
He indicated and pulled over.
The handbrake was barely on and she though her arms around him.
She planted … a very passionate kiss … he was taken aback
… by how forward she was.
Her blouse was off
… and her skirt at her ankles within two minutes.
“Wanna shag here … or at yer hotel David?”
“Jesus … too right … we will get arrested here in this lay-by!!”
She pulled up her tights and skirt and re-buttoned her blouse.
Back at the hotel, they both undressed quickly.
The sheets were now wet and their breathing returned to normal.
“There is a Jacuzzi in there!!” he smiled.
“Nahh … let’s just lie still for five!” She replied.
Martinez suddenly tapped him on the shoulder.
“Come on Davie laddie … you were light years away there man … what happened you suddenly lost your focus … are you going senile on us amigo … come on wake up buddy!!”
“Sorry Enrique … will we stop for coffee … huh?
… I just … uhhhh
… well
… I had a daft dream
… about some local chica that I met at the petrol station this afternoon!”
Back to the single parent lass and her mate.
I was in Julie's (the spunk bucket neighbour lass) house a few weeks ago ... this time on a Sunday afternoon funnily enough.
Julie often asks for advice and assistence if she gets letter or demands from "Official-dom".
Anyway I was sitting in Julie's
... when a fancy BMW pulled up at the door.
Out jumps a rather dishy lass in her late 20's.
A tall blonde with enhanced tits; a Botox-ed face;
... and looked liked she spent half of her leisure hours dressed in a leotard at the local gym working out (to stop the sagging flesh and keep it firm (minimise the fat).
Dressed in quite a pretty trouser suit with lots of neck jewels and a few rings.
Obviously being a fella who loves the local ladies I was reasonably aroused.
Sharon bounced in and sat down on the couch next to me.
Could taste the perfume it was so strong.
Highly attractive lady ... however I soon sussed out the lady's profession from the chit-chat and all the suggestive double-entendres.
... yup
... a prostitute.Sharon is 5'7" and very slim / athletic (size 8 to 10 dress-size figure) with double-D cup tits.
Sexy ...!!
Sharon had come to ask Julie a favour ...!
To be continued ...!!
Julie often asks for advice and assistence if she gets letter or demands from "Official-dom".
Anyway I was sitting in Julie's
... when a fancy BMW pulled up at the door.
Out jumps a rather dishy lass in her late 20's.
A tall blonde with enhanced tits; a Botox-ed face;
... and looked liked she spent half of her leisure hours dressed in a leotard at the local gym working out (to stop the sagging flesh and keep it firm (minimise the fat).
Dressed in quite a pretty trouser suit with lots of neck jewels and a few rings.
Obviously being a fella who loves the local ladies I was reasonably aroused.
Sharon bounced in and sat down on the couch next to me.
Could taste the perfume it was so strong.
Highly attractive lady ... however I soon sussed out the lady's profession from the chit-chat and all the suggestive double-entendres.
... yup
... a prostitute.Sharon is 5'7" and very slim / athletic (size 8 to 10 dress-size figure) with double-D cup tits.
Sexy ...!!
Sharon had come to ask Julie a favour ...!
To be continued ...!!
More oan the spunk bucket neighbour
Nice enough lass.
Friendly enough too
... always says hello if ya meet her on the street.
However I have now known her for 7 years ... she was just a pretty young lass of 23 when I first saw her ... now she looks a lot older than 30 ... her current age.
Still that is life in Blair/ Broon / Cameron's modern Britain for ya I suppose.
If I did not know her true age & Date of Birth (I wrote her a reply to an Official Court letter she had from a case she was a Prosecution Witness for).
If I did not actually know she was only just 30 I would estimate her age to be about 41 or 42 yrs old.
That is a pity ... she used to look quite fetching in her mini-skirts
... and bikinis (during the hot summer months)
... quite a tasty well built lass when she was in her early to mid-20's
... 6 or seven yrs ago that was
... but mother-hood and un-employment
... withoot a regular man in her life
... to support; protect nourish and to care for her
... well she seems to be a magnet for hard-luck cases really.
Some right lunk-heid boyfriends she has had ... a bit like an episode of Channel 4 TV's
... "Shameless"... only less entertaining and more gritty.
Suppose that is standard stuff for modern women of the Working Class though ... If they don't find a decent bloke
... they get burnt out pretty fast and rapidly change from delicious young nubiles to worn-out old boilers fast huh.
Friendly enough too
... always says hello if ya meet her on the street.
However I have now known her for 7 years ... she was just a pretty young lass of 23 when I first saw her ... now she looks a lot older than 30 ... her current age.
Still that is life in Blair/ Broon / Cameron's modern Britain for ya I suppose.
If I did not know her true age & Date of Birth (I wrote her a reply to an Official Court letter she had from a case she was a Prosecution Witness for).
If I did not actually know she was only just 30 I would estimate her age to be about 41 or 42 yrs old.
That is a pity ... she used to look quite fetching in her mini-skirts
... and bikinis (during the hot summer months)
... quite a tasty well built lass when she was in her early to mid-20's
... 6 or seven yrs ago that was
... but mother-hood and un-employment
... withoot a regular man in her life
... to support; protect nourish and to care for her
... well she seems to be a magnet for hard-luck cases really.
Some right lunk-heid boyfriends she has had ... a bit like an episode of Channel 4 TV's
... "Shameless"... only less entertaining and more gritty.
Suppose that is standard stuff for modern women of the Working Class though ... If they don't find a decent bloke
... they get burnt out pretty fast and rapidly change from delicious young nubiles to worn-out old boilers fast huh.
Sundays are wierd ... especially in the summer rain
Sitting oan the doorstep writing this blog thing-ey here lookin' oot at my garden and the neighbours coming and going
... ya know Asda / Morrison's / Tesco or LIDL's
... depending on their economic circumstances
... then the bloke watches sports oan the telly
... whilst drinking a can o' beer
... whilst she does laundray; feeds the kids; chats with her pals on the phone ... i.e. a typical aimless Sunday really
... happily drifting not doing anything too strenuous huh.
Tomorrow I have to take my motor for repairs at the garage
... Christ
... this cow-boy mechanic must think mahh heid has Velcro on the back of it.
... ya know Asda / Morrison's / Tesco or LIDL's
... depending on their economic circumstances
... then the bloke watches sports oan the telly
... whilst drinking a can o' beer
... whilst she does laundray; feeds the kids; chats with her pals on the phone ... i.e. a typical aimless Sunday really
... happily drifting not doing anything too strenuous huh.
Tomorrow I have to take my motor for repairs at the garage
... Christ
... this cow-boy mechanic must think mahh heid has Velcro on the back of it.
Got to thinking about my neighbour
A woman a few streets along from me ... white Northern English gal ... from Castleford (if memory serves me right ... but don't quote me on that one)
Onywayes I digress ... not important where she is from ... more important is what she actually does.
Single parent lass ... four kids by four different men (a wee bit like TV's Ulrike Jonnsen (i.e. 4 by 4)).
Married to the State (so to speak) and dependent on the tax-payer to finance her spunk-bucket life.
Well I guess this new geezer David Cameron who is now crackin' the whip will make the spunk-buckets dance to a different tune when he scraps benefits and Dole Money to pay off the huge debt Jessie Broon and Blair's laboristas saddled us wae.
The lass don't half talk a load of crap sometimes ... but I guess wae nae formal education to speak of yer no expecting a university professor's answers from her.
Although I do sometimes get a small modicom of Northern English gritty realism and some wit and wisdom.
Onywayes I digress ... not important where she is from ... more important is what she actually does.
Single parent lass ... four kids by four different men (a wee bit like TV's Ulrike Jonnsen (i.e. 4 by 4)).
Married to the State (so to speak) and dependent on the tax-payer to finance her spunk-bucket life.
Well I guess this new geezer David Cameron who is now crackin' the whip will make the spunk-buckets dance to a different tune when he scraps benefits and Dole Money to pay off the huge debt Jessie Broon and Blair's laboristas saddled us wae.
The lass don't half talk a load of crap sometimes ... but I guess wae nae formal education to speak of yer no expecting a university professor's answers from her.
Although I do sometimes get a small modicom of Northern English gritty realism and some wit and wisdom.
Raining today ...nice change.
Yorkshire always has it's surprises although as I said previously a lot of Northern English blokes have lost their sense of humour ... SHAME ...!!
However the women are superb.
Stylish; sexy and with a certain je ne sais quoi ... that is ladies from the Leeds / Wakefield / Harrogate / Skipton / York region ... lovely ...!!!
Waitin' for this Scottish geezer to arrive here
... but he works 7 days a week ... slightly sad really
However the women are superb.
Stylish; sexy and with a certain je ne sais quoi ... that is ladies from the Leeds / Wakefield / Harrogate / Skipton / York region ... lovely ...!!!
Waitin' for this Scottish geezer to arrive here
... but he works 7 days a week ... slightly sad really
Ladies ... you lovely creatures ... I am free ... use me up please!!
All good things come in threes I suppose
Mi latina chica and her cutie sister women got this kinda ‘banda’ thing goin’ oan sorta thing they dance and sing with a group that meet at her sister’s pal’s house.
They look very authentic … and well they sound; and smell as good as they look + the singing ain’t too bad either.
But that is latin women I suppose.
Now …
You are probably asking yersel’ by now … so what is the score with geezer here and why Yorkshire??
Well ok … simple answer first.
I love Yorkshire women …!!
Tall sexy slim blondes in hyper-abundance here in this corner of Inglaterra.
Also
… I am a stone’s throw from:
… Manchester;
… Liverpool;
… and Preston where the women are also extremely beautiful (and also love playing ‘hide the salchicha’ with us Scotsmen).
Yea so Northern English ladies do it for me in a big way.
If I don’t marry a latina or another Italiana / Espanola
... then I could easily settle for one of these tall sexy Northern English honeys.
She doesnae huvtae be a blonde … although English blondes are gorgeous …!!
However just tall slim women really … any hair colour will do … preferably in the age range 27 to 35 yrs old.
Mi latina chica and her cutie sister women got this kinda ‘banda’ thing goin’ oan sorta thing they dance and sing with a group that meet at her sister’s pal’s house.
They look very authentic … and well they sound; and smell as good as they look + the singing ain’t too bad either.
But that is latin women I suppose.
Now …
You are probably asking yersel’ by now … so what is the score with geezer here and why Yorkshire??
Well ok … simple answer first.
I love Yorkshire women …!!
Tall sexy slim blondes in hyper-abundance here in this corner of Inglaterra.
Also
… I am a stone’s throw from:
… Manchester;
… Liverpool;
… and Preston where the women are also extremely beautiful (and also love playing ‘hide the salchicha’ with us Scotsmen).
Yea so Northern English ladies do it for me in a big way.
If I don’t marry a latina or another Italiana / Espanola
... then I could easily settle for one of these tall sexy Northern English honeys.
She doesnae huvtae be a blonde … although English blondes are gorgeous …!!
However just tall slim women really … any hair colour will do … preferably in the age range 27 to 35 yrs old.
Pulsing Crumper-tjes ... parte dos
Mi latina chica is quite a modest lady ...
Never gives practical demostrations
... of her prowess
... unless it is necessary.
Then she just dazzles them all with her casual use of female
g.f.e. and female guile ...
... wooooo-hh-eeeeehhh
What a girlie ...La nina poderosa
Wow ...!!
Raw nacked power ... always understated ...
... always sub-optimal with respect to tension ...!!
Fan-Dabby-Dosey Jose ...!!
Intae it babe.
Knock 'em low sweetheart.
Never gives practical demostrations
... of her prowess
... unless it is necessary.
Then she just dazzles them all with her casual use of female
g.f.e. and female guile ...
... wooooo-hh-eeeeehhh
What a girlie ...La nina poderosa
Wow ...!!
Raw nacked power ... always understated ...
... always sub-optimal with respect to tension ...!!
Fan-Dabby-Dosey Jose ...!!
Intae it babe.
Knock 'em low sweetheart.
Space-cake lass and her 'device'
Girlie goes Ape-shit …
Mi chica latina is not just a pretty face ya see.She also has an incredibly intricate mind and often pulls out the aces when ya least expect her too.
This is living proof that a woman’s mind should never and I emphasise NEVER …be written off …!!!!
Even when you think that
…. she is merely describing her
… latest sexy dress
… that one you spent
… a grand oan
… at Harvey Nichols
when she said you wid love to peel her sexy backside out of it
… slowly as she promised
… to coat you in chocolate pudding
… as she does her strip-tease.
Her mind is still in Fifth Gear doing 85 m.p.h.
… then whilst you are only
… in Second Gear doin’ 15 m.p.h. …
She is already:
….”Down dow auf der Autobahn …!!”
As she shouts come-on Slow-Coach back at you.
Chh-ay-zooooohhss Kreeesteeh …
… Never
… underestimate that cute wee girlie smile
… yon wan they always give you
… as they pull out their rifle
… and pop several corks in yer stooooo-pit ass …!
Mi chica latina is not just a pretty face ya see.She also has an incredibly intricate mind and often pulls out the aces when ya least expect her too.
This is living proof that a woman’s mind should never and I emphasise NEVER …be written off …!!!!
Even when you think that
…. she is merely describing her
… latest sexy dress
… that one you spent
… a grand oan
… at Harvey Nichols
when she said you wid love to peel her sexy backside out of it
… slowly as she promised
… to coat you in chocolate pudding
… as she does her strip-tease.
Her mind is still in Fifth Gear doing 85 m.p.h.
… then whilst you are only
… in Second Gear doin’ 15 m.p.h. …
She is already:
….”Down dow auf der Autobahn …!!”
As she shouts come-on Slow-Coach back at you.
Chh-ay-zooooohhss Kreeesteeh …
… Never
… underestimate that cute wee girlie smile
… yon wan they always give you
… as they pull out their rifle
… and pop several corks in yer stooooo-pit ass …!
wHY DO SOME WOMEN LOSE IT WHEN THEY PASS THEIR 35TH BIRTHDAY??
Eres misteriosa amiga.
Well she is what we commonly (used to) refer to as
... 'Starship-Trooper'
Back in the day lots of lasses were gun-totin space-cake Mamas.
Sara Palin sometimes just talk shite ...
But at least she not a:
... dum ass sleaze-bag corrupt snout-in-the-trough-Pig-ley-Wiggly'
... like the slapper
... Hilary fuckin' Clinton who only goat her lawyer's degree
... cos she shagged all her fuckin' teachers.
As for her husband yon dope-smokin (ooooops sorry did not (sic) INHALE) Bill Clinton (the arse-licker who shagged Cherie Blair (ex-Prime Minister Blair (Bush's poodle) )
Ye see the Septic Tanks should stick wae whit they are guid at.
This disastrous experiment they have embarked in
... European-style Social-fascism ...
... a.k.a. the regime of President Hussain O'Wanker ...
... Obama ...
... fooooooooooohh-sake ....!
Obama was never Presidential material in the first place.
My Leftie pals in Yorkshire choke on their coffee and tea when I say that ... but for foooook-sake what the fuck is a "Community Activist"
Chicago is obviously full of numpties
... since they goat hood-winked by Obama and his highly shagggable missus
(Michelle Obama let's face it lads
... pretty gorgeous and quite sexy
... ye widnae pap her oot the bed if ye were playin':
... "hide the salchicha" with her at the time
... cute lady
... just a shame her husband is a wank though huh??
Well she is what we commonly (used to) refer to as
... 'Starship-Trooper'
Back in the day lots of lasses were gun-totin space-cake Mamas.
Sara Palin sometimes just talk shite ...
But at least she not a:
... dum ass sleaze-bag corrupt snout-in-the-trough-Pig-ley-Wiggly'
... like the slapper
... Hilary fuckin' Clinton who only goat her lawyer's degree
... cos she shagged all her fuckin' teachers.
As for her husband yon dope-smokin (ooooops sorry did not (sic) INHALE) Bill Clinton (the arse-licker who shagged Cherie Blair (ex-Prime Minister Blair (Bush's poodle) )
Ye see the Septic Tanks should stick wae whit they are guid at.
This disastrous experiment they have embarked in
... European-style Social-fascism ...
... a.k.a. the regime of President Hussain O'Wanker ...
... Obama ...
... fooooooooooohh-sake ....!
Obama was never Presidential material in the first place.
My Leftie pals in Yorkshire choke on their coffee and tea when I say that ... but for foooook-sake what the fuck is a "Community Activist"
Chicago is obviously full of numpties
... since they goat hood-winked by Obama and his highly shagggable missus
(Michelle Obama let's face it lads
... pretty gorgeous and quite sexy
... ye widnae pap her oot the bed if ye were playin':
... "hide the salchicha" with her at the time
... cute lady
... just a shame her husband is a wank though huh??
Athletic Euro-lassies
European lassies can still look gorgeous well into their 60's in fact ...
... well take Joanna Lumley for instance I would personally bang the arse aff her till the cooos come hame cos she is a big RIDE.
... well take Joanna Lumley for instance I would personally bang the arse aff her till the cooos come hame cos she is a big RIDE.
Lola's pal
Lola has a mate ...
Elena O'Connor is also a fine figure of a wummin for a lassie of 39.
Some wimmin kept the buena figuras
... well into their 50's in Europe
... whereas North American wummin seem to pile oan the poundage and become fat lazy baisterts.
Elena O'Connor is also a fine figure of a wummin for a lassie of 39.
Some wimmin kept the buena figuras
... well into their 50's in Europe
... whereas North American wummin seem to pile oan the poundage and become fat lazy baisterts.
Lola ... mi chica colombiana ... como Shakira Shakira
Lola is a dolly burd wae fine pins and a gorgeous shapely wee backside.
Well she is quite an athletic lassie furrah wummin o' 40.
Not many lassies of forty can run 15 miles and no even break oot in a sweat ... but that's oor wee local version of Shakira la colombiana I suppose.
Well she is quite an athletic lassie furrah wummin o' 40.
Not many lassies of forty can run 15 miles and no even break oot in a sweat ... but that's oor wee local version of Shakira la colombiana I suppose.
Politicos britanicos wae their keech 'n'at
Isn’t it just brilliant
Well mahh wee stereotypical tartan Boab …!!
Hoots mon … och aye Jock MacKay.
Right that’s me done wae bein’
… pure dead ethnic ‘n’ at
… oan wae it rah noo …!!
Yehhh-sssssssssssssssssssssss …!
As the Beeb’s ‘Newsnight’ anchor-man Jeremy Paxman frequently says when he is about to bite the testicles of one of our two-faced lying bastard politicos.
One does doesn’t one …?
Oh yes absolutely Cedric old chap … top hole old bean.
Paxman is actually no too Garngad occasionally (well for la BBC de Laundrays any-hooooss)
He famously got the auld Jewish geezer Herr Lawyer Fuck-pig (Partido Conservador britanico de mierde).
… yon slippery old baistert van der Haistert.
(unlike his shaggin’ partner Kirsty Wark when she arse-licked the fascist boot Thatcher on the BBC previously0
Aw Kirsty Kirsty Kirsty darlin’ … por faaaa-hhh sweetheart.
Ontwayes the auld Jewish lawyer cunt was well and truelly pinned when Paxman kept asking Michael Hoooo-hoo-Howard the exact same question:
“… yes but did you THREATEN to OVER-RULE him Mr Howard … ad infinituum …!!”
Kirsty lost it like she frequently does when her knickers are soaking wet.
Yehhhhh-ssssssssssssssssssss …!
Well mahh wee stereotypical tartan Boab …!!
Hoots mon … och aye Jock MacKay.
Right that’s me done wae bein’
… pure dead ethnic ‘n’ at
… oan wae it rah noo …!!
Yehhh-sssssssssssssssssssssss …!
As the Beeb’s ‘Newsnight’ anchor-man Jeremy Paxman frequently says when he is about to bite the testicles of one of our two-faced lying bastard politicos.
One does doesn’t one …?
Oh yes absolutely Cedric old chap … top hole old bean.
Paxman is actually no too Garngad occasionally (well for la BBC de Laundrays any-hooooss)
He famously got the auld Jewish geezer Herr Lawyer Fuck-pig (Partido Conservador britanico de mierde).
… yon slippery old baistert van der Haistert.
(unlike his shaggin’ partner Kirsty Wark when she arse-licked the fascist boot Thatcher on the BBC previously0
Aw Kirsty Kirsty Kirsty darlin’ … por faaaa-hhh sweetheart.
Ontwayes the auld Jewish lawyer cunt was well and truelly pinned when Paxman kept asking Michael Hoooo-hoo-Howard the exact same question:
“… yes but did you THREATEN to OVER-RULE him Mr Howard … ad infinituum …!!”
Kirsty lost it like she frequently does when her knickers are soaking wet.
Yehhhhh-ssssssssssssssssssss …!
Saturday 5 June 2010
Social Science is for half-wits
Long Hard look around at Modern Britain (and every other country for that matter too)
If I can temporarily suspend and bracket my sceptical outlook for just a wee minute.
Let’s take a look at why the planet is in such a f’ng mess for a second … mainly because most (so-called) ‘world-leaders’ are thick as pig-shit.
So many people study pish at university nowadays.
Blair and Brown here in Britain expanded the ‘university system’ and lots of run-of-the-mill polytechnics (jumped up pishy colleges in other words) were suddenly ‘upgraded’ to the status of a university.
Now (traditionally) only a small percentage of the brightest got to go to universities (in the 1970’ (when Blair /Brown and these other corrupt fuck-pigs were at university)) … it was about five percent (5%) of the population went into the Higher Education System.This was appropriate back 35 years ago when Brown / Blair and the keech went to uni.
Britain and indeed most of Europe looked different back 35 yrs ago. Now with the extremely rapid expansion of Higher Education there are too many stupid air-head courses in horse-shit-ology.
Now … any pish passes for ‘academic’ ...
… whereas traditionally people would learn on the job.
… an apprenticeship in other words.
Now all sorts of crap
... IS GIVEN THE STATUS
... of a university degree.
… naw pish is pish ...
.,.. shite is shite
… and Social Science is realm of the fool
... and the thicko who does not have the intellectual wherewithal
... to break wind
… never mind philosophise in a rational intelligent manner.
Social Science is rubbish for pseudo-intellectuals.
However now lots of people study it then talk crap.
Even judges and lawyers now come from this phoney pseudo-intellectual pish nowadays.
These is dangerous because policy is created by cretins with no proper training in logical rational thought who actually believe that the toilet-paper they call their academic qualifications actually entitle them to make important decisions and direct the future of our increasingly complex societies.
Naw …
… crap-in … crap-out actually …!!
If I can temporarily suspend and bracket my sceptical outlook for just a wee minute.
Let’s take a look at why the planet is in such a f’ng mess for a second … mainly because most (so-called) ‘world-leaders’ are thick as pig-shit.
So many people study pish at university nowadays.
Blair and Brown here in Britain expanded the ‘university system’ and lots of run-of-the-mill polytechnics (jumped up pishy colleges in other words) were suddenly ‘upgraded’ to the status of a university.
Now (traditionally) only a small percentage of the brightest got to go to universities (in the 1970’ (when Blair /Brown and these other corrupt fuck-pigs were at university)) … it was about five percent (5%) of the population went into the Higher Education System.This was appropriate back 35 years ago when Brown / Blair and the keech went to uni.
Britain and indeed most of Europe looked different back 35 yrs ago. Now with the extremely rapid expansion of Higher Education there are too many stupid air-head courses in horse-shit-ology.
Now … any pish passes for ‘academic’ ...
… whereas traditionally people would learn on the job.
… an apprenticeship in other words.
Now all sorts of crap
... IS GIVEN THE STATUS
... of a university degree.
… naw pish is pish ...
.,.. shite is shite
… and Social Science is realm of the fool
... and the thicko who does not have the intellectual wherewithal
... to break wind
… never mind philosophise in a rational intelligent manner.
Social Science is rubbish for pseudo-intellectuals.
However now lots of people study it then talk crap.
Even judges and lawyers now come from this phoney pseudo-intellectual pish nowadays.
These is dangerous because policy is created by cretins with no proper training in logical rational thought who actually believe that the toilet-paper they call their academic qualifications actually entitle them to make important decisions and direct the future of our increasingly complex societies.
Naw …
… crap-in … crap-out actually …!!
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