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Gill Richards 18 October 2004 13:45 pah I didn't get this [my previous reply]. I've been sitting here patiently
waiting for your reply and it was lost in the ether. cr*p isn't it? Vile Jelly 18 October 2004 15:29 What? The reply or the ether? Gill Richards 18 October 2004 15:52 everything. Vile Jelly 18 October 2004 22:38 I apologise for the quality of my reply, not sure I can do much about the
ether though. Gill Richards 19 October 2004 08:35 didn't mean the reply, just everything else, i was having a bad day. Vile Jelly 19 October 2004 15:19
Seems to be catching. Me and Helling too.
Ooh er. If that sort of thing bothers you I suggest you don't get a job in the
cheffing trade. Here incompetence and sloth comes as standard.
If only. We are still busy, ems are still infesting the burg, unpleasantness
abounds. The only quiet time in St. Ives these days is in November. 23rd.
Between 9.42am and 12.20pm to be precise. Are you sure the apocalypse is all
bad? I had rather pinned my hopes on it.
PS. Still no sign of the RT. Plenty of signs in St. Ives Bay of BP
supertankers hired by the brewers to resupply the Slupe. Oh my poor aching
bank account!
Gill Richards 19 October 2004 16:15
Must be the weather. Don't know about you,
but when it's raining and chilly, i don't want to leave the house/bed so
dragging myself to work is crummy. Also i don't like to be stuck indoors all
day when the sun is shining and i could be outside enjoying myself.........
Can't stand other people getting paid the
same as me and then not pulling their weight and asking me questions all the
time, what are they doing here if they can't do the job? Couldn't work in the
cheffing trade, i have my own way of cooking and whilst it produces yummy
results, i don't think Gordon Ramsay will think much of it.
Still that many? That is precise. No, it's
not all bad, it will clear the world of all the scummy people, all the dregs
that don't deserve to breath, those that go away and expect the locals to
speak English and serve egg and chips and fill SI with their cries of
"lets feed the seagulls.......ow, the b*****d". Unfortunately of it
doesn't get you it will probably get all your friends and the people that you
really don't want to loose and of course it will be cold and dark for a very
long time and you won't be able to get beer.
ps can they fit in the bay? (the tankers
that is). Never mind, come the apocalypse everyone's bank account will be
deleted (there, something to look forward to)
Vile Jelly 20 October 2004 09:38
Tsk, tsk. If god wanted us to enjoy life he wouldn't have invented it. I
regard it as merely practicing for eternity in hell (i.e. another normal
working day) or eternity in oblivion (i.e. that non-existence of time that
occurs between finishing work one week and starting it again the next).
I don't think Gordon Ramsay thinks. He just shouts and swears a lot. Which
when you think about it are the qualities you most need, rather than technical
ability, to get any work out of the muppets that generally infest the planet.
Bugger! Another otherwise perfect plan ruined by a mere technicality. Perhaps
I shall just retire to the pub and join the RT in Operation 'Buggeroffworld'
and get piscatorial.
Oh aye, lad, it's quite deep. We've had an aircraft carrier (the Nark Royal)
parked in the bay before now.
Gill Richards 20 October 2004 14:32
Oh lets not get into that discussion. With
reference to our 'ever' tennis - i have not 'seen her face', so i'm not. As
you rightly say, we are already in hell and oblivion, you will only not be
reincarnated if you have been really really good. I work to pay for my life
outside, i happen to enjoy my job which is a bonus, but i wouldn't miss it if
i won the lottery.
i think he does, 'who shall i shout at
next?'. Damn good manager.
i would, they seem to have it nailed.
gosh, with lots of uniformed Navy men?
Vile Jelly 20 October 2004 15:08
How do you know you haven't seen her face? Anyway the song say's I'm not
You're. No chance of reincarnation for me then. Oh well, I never did
particularly like condensed milk anyway. In that case, you could win the
lottery but keep your job and give me the money and then we'd both be happy.
Well ..... you'd be happy and the RT would be very, very shlobbleobble.
Exactement. His chef's knives are just for show and stabbing recalcitrant KPs!
I know, the lucky buggers. Why couldn't I have been born a cuddly peep?
Yes, and the Lady Mayor (as she was then, Harry hasn't had a sex change) was
rowed out to entertain them!
Gill Richards 20 October 2004 16:01
I don't so i don't. that's right, i'm not.
i'll bring you a carnation instead. If i win enough i'll give you half and
we'll both be ok.
peanuts?
I often think that. I would like to come back
as one of my cats, v. well looked after.
lucky girl.
Vile Jelly 21 October 2004 15:10
It's a deal. In fact, come to think of it, it's that traditional cockney
delicacy, a jelly deal!
Kitchen Porters.
Fairy nuff. Personally I don't really care much for fish so cathood is
probably a no-no for me.
Unlucky sailors!
Gill Richards 21 October 2004 15:17
ha ha ha ha ha
so you pay peanuts and get ........
it's not all fish you know. duck, turkey,
chicken. In their time my cats have liked: fruit cake, baked bean juice,
garlic croutons, fruit mousse, olive juice and bizarrely rubber and wool.
a friends cat likes soap.
if you say so, i haven't seen her.
Vile Jelly 21 October 2004 21:33
Steady now. Deep breaths .....
Peed off chefs.
Wot? No mice?
Ever seen a civic dignitary you fancied? It's all that gilt and vermin, I
think. Makes them look like a crimbo tree decoration.
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