We have dogs and I hate them (piss and shit everywhere ) and I’m always complaining about having to dodge poo in the garden . So wife bought me some “don’t step in it “ dog poo game ffs
Best has to be a book called Pro Patria Mori which concentrates on the Gommecourt Diversion at the battle of the somme as is where my Great-Great Uncle on the first day
A cycle tyre pump and a aquarium thermometer. Best as every year....... Five Christmas cards from German Shepherd dogs we sponsor given up for destruction up to six years ago.
Best - Ray Campi CD. Worst, a Christmas T-shirt with a surfing santa on it. Now that wouldn't have been so bad, but the well meaning friend who bought it, knew that the missus had bought me a blinding Christmas Hawaiian shirt. I don't need two once a year shirts... Still, it's the thought that counts.
No worst so far, best was an engraved bottle of Mount Gay XO Rum from Barbados, from the wife-to-be, we're going on honeymoon to Barbados in September and we've got a distillery tour booked in
Best has to be a book called Pro Patria Mori which concentrates on the Gommecourt Diversion at the battle of the somme as is where my Great-Great Uncle on the first day
@ForeverAddickted Straight away I thought of Wilfred Owens poem DULCE ET DECORUM EST
Bent double, like old beggars under sacks, Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge, Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs And towards our distant rest began to trudge. Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind; Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind. Gas! Gas! Quick, boys! – An ecstasy of fumbling, Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time; But someone still was yelling out and stumbling, And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime . . . Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light, As under a green sea, I saw him drowning. In all my dreams, before my helpless sight, He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning. If in some smothering dreams you too could pace Behind the wagon that we flung him in, And watch the white eyes writhing in his face, His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin; If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs, Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues, My friend, you would not tell with such high zest To children ardent for some desperate glory, The old Lie; Dulce et Decorum est Pro patria mori.
We have dogs and I hate them (piss and shit everywhere ) and I’m always complaining about having to dodge poo in the garden . So wife bought me some “don’t step in it “ dog poo game ffs
Best so far, and pretty much only, is My Turn by Johan Cruyff. Will get most presents tomorrow so hoping for something a bit better then. I think MsAA has got me a ticket for some event in Paris so that will probably top the list.
The cheese an kisses bought me a collection of old Charlton programmes. She moans that I spend enough time on the kharzi, I’ll be on the throne for hours now!
We have dogs and I hate them (piss and shit everywhere ) and I’m always complaining about having to dodge poo in the garden . So wife bought me some “don’t step in it “ dog poo game ffs
Surely if you hate dogs you wouldn't have them.
More a case of he likes pussy, therefore he has dogs.
Comments
So wife bought me some “don’t step in it “ dog poo game ffs
Best has to be a book called Pro Patria Mori which concentrates on the Gommecourt Diversion at the battle of the somme as is where my Great-Great Uncle on the first day
Best as every year.......
Five Christmas cards from German Shepherd dogs we sponsor given up for destruction up to six years ago.
Worst, none.
DULCE ET DECORUM EST
Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.
Gas! Gas! Quick, boys! – An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling,
And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime . . .
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.
If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie; Dulce et Decorum est
Pro patria mori.
Wilfred Owen
I may be in bed ill, but it brightened up my day seeing there faces and @kellycafc as well
So the best , the worst, the weirdest/,random.
Is part of a collective "f*ck all"