Little update from Brazil. Spent three nights in Santos, the city where Pele made his name. Did the Santos stadium tour - better then Selhurst and The Toolbox, not as good as The Valley would be my assessment. During the tour, got shown the home changing rooms - each player has their own locker, and Pele's locker is still there. When he left Santos in 1974 to go to New York Cosmos, he left something in his locker to bring luck to all subsequent Santos players, and that locker hasn't been opened since. Only Pele has a key and only Pele knows what's in it. Any guesses? I reckon it's just a pair of heavily skidmarked underpants that he just couldn't be bothered to deal with.
One other interesting and slightly unpleasant thing about the city of Santos - it's got a fully authentic West Ham pub - Ruskin Arms Pub
At least I'm somewhere where Millwall aren't welcome.
Anyway, the romance element of my holiday starts tomorrow. I'm looking forward to it, which is good. The previous holiday that you lot all know about was very different - a couple of days before I went to meet her, I suddenly got a really bad feeling about the whole thing, panic started to run through my veins. This time round, I'm quite optimistic. She's a primary school teacher, which surely provides some sort of niceness guarantee. It's not all plain sailing though. I'm picking her up from her house tomorrow afternoon but, before I get to whisk her off to enjoy the fantasy land of pasty sunburned skin and rubbish chat, she's got her entire family lined up to meet me. 6 of them. They don't speak English, I don't speak any Portuguese apart from "sorry I don't speak Portuguese", "thank you", "can I have a beer please?". I keep thinking about this: https://youtu.be/hXLPjPdbwGE
That's what it'll be like. They'll be nice, I'll be an awkward freak. I can imagine the chat between her mum and her brother after we leave - "you free tomorrow, son? I reckon she'll want a lift home urgently. I haven't seen anyone that socially inept since they televised that Crystal Palace match over here a couple of years back."
Being triple vaccinated and still not being allowed to travel because of border closures in Western Australia aka. the Democratic Republic of McGowan / Hermit State
Even more than Sandi Toksvig? I'm not disputing that Pollard should be on the list, but big statement to put her at the top, particularly in the current political climate. I've not mentioned Karl Robinson as I don't class him as a human being, and I am presuming that you've ignored him for the same reason. Obviously he wins "most annoying object in existence" by a distance.
Have you ever seen Carl Robinson and Sandi Toksvig in the same room? Just saying....
Little update from Brazil. Spent three nights in Santos, the city where Pele made his name. Did the Santos stadium tour - better then Selhurst and The Toolbox, not as good as The Valley would be my assessment. During the tour, got shown the home changing rooms - each player has their own locker, and Pele's locker is still there. When he left Santos in 1974 to go to New York Cosmos, he left something in his locker to bring luck to all subsequent Santos players, and that locker hasn't been opened since. Only Pele has a key and only Pele knows what's in it. Any guesses? I reckon it's just a pair of heavily skidmarked underpants that he just couldn't be bothered to deal with.
One other interesting and slightly unpleasant thing about the city of Santos - it's got a fully authentic West Ham pub - Ruskin Arms Pub
At least I'm somewhere where Millwall aren't welcome.
Anyway, the romance element of my holiday starts tomorrow. I'm looking forward to it, which is good. The previous holiday that you lot all know about was very different - a couple of days before I went to meet her, I suddenly got a really bad feeling about the whole thing, panic started to run through my veins. This time round, I'm quite optimistic. She's a primary school teacher, which surely provides some sort of niceness guarantee. It's not all plain sailing though. I'm picking her up from her house tomorrow afternoon but, before I get to whisk her off to enjoy the fantasy land of pasty sunburned skin and rubbish chat, she's got her entire family lined up to meet me. 6 of them. They don't speak English, I don't speak any Portuguese apart from "sorry I don't speak Portuguese", "thank you", "can I have a beer please?". I keep thinking about this: https://youtu.be/hXLPjPdbwGE
That's what it'll be like. They'll be nice, I'll be an awkward freak. I can imagine the chat between her mum and her brother after we leave - "you free tomorrow, son? I reckon she'll want a lift home urgently. I haven't seen anyone that socially inept since they televised that Crystal Palace match over here a couple of years back."
Little update from Brazil. Spent three nights in Santos, the city where Pele made his name. Did the Santos stadium tour - better then Selhurst and The Toolbox, not as good as The Valley would be my assessment. During the tour, got shown the home changing rooms - each player has their own locker, and Pele's locker is still there. When he left Santos in 1974 to go to New York Cosmos, he left something in his locker to bring luck to all subsequent Santos players, and that locker hasn't been opened since. Only Pele has a key and only Pele knows what's in it. Any guesses? I reckon it's just a pair of heavily skidmarked underpants that he just couldn't be bothered to deal with.
One other interesting and slightly unpleasant thing about the city of Santos - it's got a fully authentic West Ham pub - Ruskin Arms Pub
At least I'm somewhere where Millwall aren't welcome.
Anyway, the romance element of my holiday starts tomorrow. I'm looking forward to it, which is good. The previous holiday that you lot all know about was very different - a couple of days before I went to meet her, I suddenly got a really bad feeling about the whole thing, panic started to run through my veins. This time round, I'm quite optimistic. She's a primary school teacher, which surely provides some sort of niceness guarantee. It's not all plain sailing though. I'm picking her up from her house tomorrow afternoon but, before I get to whisk her off to enjoy the fantasy land of pasty sunburned skin and rubbish chat, she's got her entire family lined up to meet me. 6 of them. They don't speak English, I don't speak any Portuguese apart from "sorry I don't speak Portuguese", "thank you", "can I have a beer please?". I keep thinking about this: https://youtu.be/hXLPjPdbwGE
That's what it'll be like. They'll be nice, I'll be an awkward freak. I can imagine the chat between her mum and her brother after we leave - "you free tomorrow, son? I reckon she'll want a lift home urgently. I haven't seen anyone that socially inept since they televised that Crystal Palace match over here a couple of years back."
Getting a bit worried for MrLargo.
Posted on the 17th that the romance section of his holiday was starting the following day and we've heard nothing.
Either his body parts are currently being shared around the favelas of Sao Paulo or his knob is so sore that he's lost his ability to provide an update.
Little update from Brazil. Spent three nights in Santos, the city where Pele made his name. Did the Santos stadium tour - better then Selhurst and The Toolbox, not as good as The Valley would be my assessment. During the tour, got shown the home changing rooms - each player has their own locker, and Pele's locker is still there. When he left Santos in 1974 to go to New York Cosmos, he left something in his locker to bring luck to all subsequent Santos players, and that locker hasn't been opened since. Only Pele has a key and only Pele knows what's in it. Any guesses? I reckon it's just a pair of heavily skidmarked underpants that he just couldn't be bothered to deal with.
One other interesting and slightly unpleasant thing about the city of Santos - it's got a fully authentic West Ham pub - Ruskin Arms Pub
At least I'm somewhere where Millwall aren't welcome.
Anyway, the romance element of my holiday starts tomorrow. I'm looking forward to it, which is good. The previous holiday that you lot all know about was very different - a couple of days before I went to meet her, I suddenly got a really bad feeling about the whole thing, panic started to run through my veins. This time round, I'm quite optimistic. She's a primary school teacher, which surely provides some sort of niceness guarantee. It's not all plain sailing though. I'm picking her up from her house tomorrow afternoon but, before I get to whisk her off to enjoy the fantasy land of pasty sunburned skin and rubbish chat, she's got her entire family lined up to meet me. 6 of them. They don't speak English, I don't speak any Portuguese apart from "sorry I don't speak Portuguese", "thank you", "can I have a beer please?". I keep thinking about this: https://youtu.be/hXLPjPdbwGE
That's what it'll be like. They'll be nice, I'll be an awkward freak. I can imagine the chat between her mum and her brother after we leave - "you free tomorrow, son? I reckon she'll want a lift home urgently. I haven't seen anyone that socially inept since they televised that Crystal Palace match over here a couple of years back."
Getting a bit worried for MrLargo.
Posted on the 17th that the romance section of his holiday was starting the following day and we've heard nothing.
Either his body parts are currently being shared around the favelas of Sao Paulo or his knob is so sore that he's lost his ability to provide an update.
Or he's jumped off Sugarloaf Mountain because she has a worse personality than Ms America
Paying by card in a pub and you have to tap on the top of the machine meaning you can't see what the bar person has entered into the machine. Most do show you but every now and then they don't. Which of course being me I only think about it till afterwards to ask for a receipt.
Fortunately no one as of yet has over charged me but would be nice (bit of customer service) if they showed you the amount before you're potentially tapping away a chunk of your savings. Especially now it's up to 100 quid?
Tiktok and anyone who finds that inane, attention seeking piece of shite “entertaining”.
This includes my other half who will spend hours and hours a night watching 1000 different people say the same thing in the same voice in a different context. Then she’ll swan into the front room at 3am wanting a drink and tell me how mindlessly boring test cricket is. The cheek of it.
I always thought it was bad idea to encourage pedestrians to cross in front of you in case they walked into oncoming traffic from the opposite direction.
Also eco-warrior cyclists now legally being able to hold you to ransom.
How pathetically sentimental I get about inanimate objects.
I'm feeling guilty about buying a new phone because my old one has been such a trooper. I'm actually keeping the new one in a separate room so there's no hard feelings.
Tiktok and anyone who finds that inane, attention seeking piece of shite “entertaining”.
This includes my other half who will spend hours and hours a night watching 1000 different people say the same thing in the same voice in a different context. Then she’ll swan into the front room at 3am wanting a drink and tell me how mindlessly boring test cricket is. The cheek of it.
My missus watches far too much of it as well but i've seen some very funny videos from there. Usually the unplanned ones.
Agreeing to the terms of a draft contract only to find when the version for signature is sent through several days later that key terms have been amended without consultation. Guess what, I ain't signing, change it back you pricks.
Feel a bit guilty. The last time I went on holiday with a random bird it was one of the greatest anti-love stories of the century. I shagged her, messaged her for a year or so, went on holiday with her, hated her, continued to hate her, had nightmares about her buying hats when I was supposed to be celebrating my niece's first birthday, and so on.
This is very different. It's the story nobody wanted. I'm on holiday in a brilliant country, with a lovely woman, having a superb time.
I land at Heathrow on 6 Feb. Do not stand in my path. I'll be in a mood so foul it will show up on the weather forecast. Heathrow Express to Paddington, Paddington to Charing Cross on the Bakerloo, I lose my shit entirely when my train back to misery is delayed. Sunday evening either in a cell or breaking stuff for the sake of it.
Feel a bit guilty. The last time I went on holiday with a random bird it was one of the greatest anti-love stories of the century. I shagged her, messaged her for a year or so, went on holiday with her, hated her, continued to hate her, had nightmares about her buying hats when I was supposed to be celebrating my niece's first birthday, and so on.
This is very different. It's the story nobody wanted. I'm on holiday in a brilliant country, with a lovely woman, having a superb time.
I land at Heathrow on 6 Feb. Do not stand in my path. I'll be in a mood so foul it will show up on the weather forecast. Heathrow Express to Paddington, Paddington to Charing Cross on the Bakerloo, I lose my shit entirely when my train back to misery is delayed. Sunday evening either in a cell or breaking stuff for the sake of it.
If you read this in Morgan Freeman's voice with you as the third person rather than the narrator it is like the ending of the Jungle Book and would bring a tear to a glass eye
Aside from this, I thought I was a man so driven by his sexual impulses he would think nothing of driving to The Premier Inn at Leicester Forest service station to procreate with a woman from the North I'd met on line on a Tuesday afternoon who had sent me some provocative text messages set me apart from my peers. To cross the Atlantic not once but twice following both heart and penis puts you in a position of being thoroughly deserving of this dopamine hit you have found that makes you feel sick to the stomach as well as dizzyingly happy, you are the character in an obscene Richard Curtis film and I salute you sir
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One other interesting and slightly unpleasant thing about the city of Santos - it's got a fully authentic West Ham pub - Ruskin Arms Pub
Anyway, the romance element of my holiday starts tomorrow. I'm looking forward to it, which is good. The previous holiday that you lot all know about was very different - a couple of days before I went to meet her, I suddenly got a really bad feeling about the whole thing, panic started to run through my veins. This time round, I'm quite optimistic. She's a primary school teacher, which surely provides some sort of niceness guarantee. It's not all plain sailing though. I'm picking her up from her house tomorrow afternoon but, before I get to whisk her off to enjoy the fantasy land of pasty sunburned skin and rubbish chat, she's got her entire family lined up to meet me. 6 of them. They don't speak English, I don't speak any Portuguese apart from "sorry I don't speak Portuguese", "thank you", "can I have a beer please?". I keep thinking about this:
That's what it'll be like. They'll be nice, I'll be an awkward freak. I can imagine the chat between her mum and her brother after we leave - "you free tomorrow, son? I reckon she'll want a lift home urgently. I haven't seen anyone that socially inept since they televised that Crystal Palace match over here a couple of years back."
I wish you luck, but selfishly I am sort of hoping for a disaster.
By the way, @MrLargo, I think you should start a separate thread for this holiday
Posted on the 17th that the romance section of his holiday was starting the following day and we've heard nothing.
Either his body parts are currently being shared around the favelas of Sao Paulo or his knob is so sore that he's lost his ability to provide an update.
Lucas Digne at Everton just reminding me of this annoyance.
Which of course being me I only think about it till afterwards to ask for a receipt.
Fortunately no one as of yet has over charged me but would be nice (bit of customer service) if they showed you the amount before you're potentially tapping away a chunk of your savings. Especially now it's up to 100 quid?
I always thought it was bad idea to encourage pedestrians to cross in front of you in case they walked into oncoming traffic from the opposite direction.
Also eco-warrior cyclists now legally being able to hold you to ransom.
I'm feeling guilty about buying a new phone because my old one has been such a trooper. I'm actually keeping the new one in a separate room so there's no hard feelings.
Guess what, I ain't signing, change it back you pricks.
Feel a bit guilty. The last time I went on holiday with a random bird it was one of the greatest anti-love stories of the century. I shagged her, messaged her for a year or so, went on holiday with her, hated her, continued to hate her, had nightmares about her buying hats when I was supposed to be celebrating my niece's first birthday, and so on.
This is very different. It's the story nobody wanted. I'm on holiday in a brilliant country, with a lovely woman, having a superb time.
Her Brazil 1970 Carlos Alberto Pele Jairzinho Samba-style lovemaking, and my Warnock/Allardyce "let's keep it tight and not get humiliated" substance over style has merged into the kind of beautiful romance that makes me feel like I'm living in a love story co-written by Alan Curbishley and Chris Powell. She's charming and funny, and knew exactly what expression to put on her face when I explained our defeat to Hartlepool. It's one hell of a woman that knows how to convey "it's a mickey mouse tournament for pub teams, we shouldn't even be in it, but it's a shame that we're out cos there's fuck all else to get excited about, but ultimately this is the sort of thing that those c#&TS down the road get excited about, so fuck it and have another caipirinha" - she's a treasure. I might actually be in love for the first time since I found out what w$©king was and fell in love with myself.
I land at Heathrow on 6 Feb. Do not stand in my path. I'll be in a mood so foul it will show up on the weather forecast. Heathrow Express to Paddington, Paddington to Charing Cross on the Bakerloo, I lose my shit entirely when my train back to misery is delayed. Sunday evening either in a cell or breaking stuff for the sake of it.
Aside from this, I thought I was a man so driven by his sexual impulses he would think nothing of driving to The Premier Inn at Leicester Forest service station to procreate with a woman from the North I'd met on line on a Tuesday afternoon who had sent me some provocative text messages set me apart from my peers. To cross the Atlantic not once but twice following both heart and penis puts you in a position of being thoroughly deserving of this dopamine hit you have found that makes you feel sick to the stomach as well as dizzyingly happy, you are the character in an obscene Richard Curtis film and I salute you sir