Remember George's the hairdressers next door to Coombes the bookmakers. He was forever running next door to have a punt whilst you sat there with half an haircut. As for the florists, think it slipped down the railway embankment.
Remember George's the hairdressers next door to Coombes the bookmakers. He was forever running next door to have a punt whilst you sat there with half an haircut. As for the florists, think it slipped down the railway embankment.
The Star Inn on Plumstead Common Road was mentioned! As was Zeytin in Greenwich, which I love going to. Didn't have the best experience there last time, but I mainly put that down to my wife walking out after an argument, before the main meal and the staff asking me where she'd got to. A bit awkward . Anyway...
The Star! Wouldn't have happened in Jean's days. Another good reason to avoid that pub.
I was in a cafe just off Golden Square once and the woman buttering the bread, sneezed into her hands, before carrying on without washing em, I thoroughly enjoyed that bread and butter that day
Remember George's the hairdressers next door to Coombes the bookmakers. He was forever running next door to have a punt whilst you sat there with half an haircut. As for the florists, think it slipped down the railway embankment.
I was served a breakfast in the A20 townhouse cafe in Lenham resplendent with a nest of pubic hair upon it. I didn't notice until I'd eaten some of the (Thank god) pubeless part. My mate I was working with (more on that animal in a minute) pointed the offending hairs out to me and I had a moment of clarity where I walked my plate up to the till, pointed out the vandalism that had taken place and calmly told the gimp operating the till to give me my money back and to bring out the beast in the kitchen responsible. He gave me my money back and a tenner on top, I'm assuming he wanted the pubes for a souvenir.
It's fair to say I felt pretty fucking sick getting into the van and driving to the job. I was driving and after about 5 minutes I couldn't stop myself from dry retching and making the sort of noises you make before vomiting. As I was driving I held my guts down somehow until my mate, who was a utter monster of a human being who I could talk about all day given a chance on his exploits, was egging me on to throw up out of the window with scant regard for the countryside or company vehicular property, so much was his enthusiasm he put one of his fingers deeply up his own arse and stuffed it under my nose.
I slammed the van into a hedge, got out and projectile vomited, the other half of the gang in the vehicle behind us were screaming with laughter. When we got on-site they asked what had happened and I told them 'Rocky stuck his finger up his arse and put it under my nose' which set them off again. I could still taste his rectum so threw up some more.
All day I was either trying not to spew or was spewing just by the constant smell of another man's dirtbox being with me and also the thought of almost ingesting someone else's pubs.
I genuinely go cold when I drive past that place now
I've recently downgraded the Valley Cafe on quality grounds. I'll now give it a complete miss.
Much better is Cafe Baguette in The Village - looks spotless, nice service and decent food at a fair price. In Woolwich the same goes for Friends Cafe in Barnard Close just off Powis Street.
I've recently downgraded the Valley Cafe on quality grounds. I'll now give it a complete miss.
Much better is Cafe Baguette in The Village - looks spotless, nice service and decent food at a fair price. In Woolwich the same goes for Friends Cafe in Barnard Close just off Powis Street.
The Star Inn on Plumstead Common Road was mentioned! As was Zeytin in Greenwich, which I love going to. Didn't have the best experience there last time, but I mainly put that down to my wife walking out after an argument, before the main meal and the staff asking me where she'd got to. A bit awkward . Anyway...
The Star! Wouldn't have happened in Jean's days. Another good reason to avoid that pub.
I recall the new owner slagging of the regulars and going on about how he wanted to transform the place...
The Star Inn on Plumstead Common Road was mentioned! As was Zeytin in Greenwich, which I love going to. Didn't have the best experience there last time, but I mainly put that down to my wife walking out after an argument, before the main meal and the staff asking me where she'd got to. A bit awkward . Anyway...
The Star! Wouldn't have happened in Jean's days. Another good reason to avoid that pub.
I recall the new owner slagging of the regulars and going on about how he wanted to transform the place...
I was served a breakfast in the A20 townhouse cafe in Lenham resplendent with a nest of pubic hair upon it. I didn't notice until I'd eaten some of the (Thank god) pubeless part. My mate I was working with (more on that animal in a minute) pointed the offending hairs out to me and I had a moment of clarity where I walked my plate up to the till, pointed out the vandalism that had taken place and calmly told the gimp operating the till to give me my money back and to bring out the beast in the kitchen responsible. He gave me my money back and a tenner on top, I'm assuming he wanted the pubes for a souvenir.
It's fair to say I felt pretty fucking sick getting into the van and driving to the job. I was driving and after about 5 minutes I couldn't stop myself from dry retching and making the sort of noises you make before vomiting. As I was driving I held my guts down somehow until my mate, who was a utter monster of a human being who I could talk about all day given a chance on his exploits, was egging me on to throw up out of the window with scant regard for the countryside or company vehicular property, so much was his enthusiasm he put one of his fingers deeply up his own arse and stuffed it under my nose.
I slammed the van into a hedge, got out and projectile vomited, the other half of the gang in the vehicle behind us were screaming with laughter. When we got on-site they asked what had happened and I told them 'Rocky stuck his finger up his arse and put it under my nose' which set them off again. I could still taste his rectum so threw up some more.
All day I was either trying not to spew or was spewing just by the constant smell of another man's dirtbox being with me and also the thought of almost ingesting someone else's pubs.
I genuinely go cold when I drive past that place now
You don’t half have some stories and a way of telling them.
Just woke the mrs up next to me as I couldn’t hold in my laugh, thus making the sound ridiculously loud when it inevitably came out, resulting in an elbow to my side and a “wtf are you reading at this time?” - I didn’t divulge!
Back in the day working in the City we used a little cafe run by a Greek guy and his family down near Billingsgate full on comfort food chips with everything. His young daughter about ten years old brought up a moussaka and out crawled a cockroach. Called her back and said look there's a cockroach in my moussaka - she pointed upwards and said matter of fact "Can't help it they keep falling from the ceiling".
Comments
He was forever running next door to have a punt whilst you sat there with half an haircut.
As for the florists, think it slipped down the railway embankment.
Another good reason to avoid that pub.
I do like a wimpy
It's fair to say I felt pretty fucking sick getting into the van and driving to the job. I was driving and after about 5 minutes I couldn't stop myself from dry retching and making the sort of noises you make before vomiting. As I was driving I held my guts down somehow until my mate, who was a utter monster of a human being who I could talk about all day given a chance on his exploits, was egging me on to throw up out of the window with scant regard for the countryside or company vehicular property, so much was his enthusiasm he put one of his fingers deeply up his own arse and stuffed it under my nose.
I slammed the van into a hedge, got out and projectile vomited, the other half of the gang in the vehicle behind us were screaming with laughter. When we got on-site they asked what had happened and I told them 'Rocky stuck his finger up his arse and put it under my nose' which set them off again. I could still taste his rectum so threw up some more.
All day I was either trying not to spew or was spewing just by the constant smell of another man's dirtbox being with me and also the thought of almost ingesting someone else's pubs.
I genuinely go cold when I drive past that place now
I've recently downgraded the Valley Cafe on quality grounds. I'll now give it a complete miss.
Much better is Cafe Baguette in The Village - looks spotless, nice service and decent food at a fair price. In Woolwich the same goes for Friends Cafe in Barnard Close just off Powis Street.
Just woke the mrs up next to me as I couldn’t hold in my laugh, thus making the sound ridiculously loud when it inevitably came out, resulting in an elbow to my side and a “wtf are you reading at this time?” - I didn’t divulge!