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    The last book I read was Gordonn Ramsey - autobiography part 2

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      Originally posted by BrilloPad View Post
      The last book I read was Gordon Ramsey - autobiography part 2
      He really is a conceited ****

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        Originally posted by BrilloPad View Post
        I am currently reading Darren Brown Tricks of the mind.
        Good book

        That Britain from Above thing on Beeb 1 at 9pm looks interesting in a geeky kind of way

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          Hello peoples!

          Just back from a weekend of debauchery.

          How are we all?

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            Originally posted by Churchill View Post
            Hello peoples!

            Just back from a weekend of debauchery.

            How are we all?


            Just off to watch the new NCIS

            Later
            Confusion is a natural state of being

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              Evening all

              Hope you all had good weekends.

              Off for an early night - need to be fresh for next week as manufacturing at ClientCo resumes after a 2 week shutdown, during which time we implemented a major software upgrade. Puts me in mind of the lyrics "There may be trouble ahead..."
              Where are we going? And what’s with this hand basket?

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                Originally posted by voodooflux View Post
                Evening all

                Hope you all had good weekends.

                Off for an early night - need to be fresh for next week as manufacturing at ClientCo resumes after a 2 week shutdown, during which time we implemented a major software upgrade. Puts me in mind of the lyrics "There may be trouble ahead..."


                Trouble's good if you can ensure that you're the one to pull the irons out of the fire - you don't necessarily get any more money out of it, but you get kudos

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                  Do thirties get a Zeity acclamation?

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                    Actually, the last post was just to put this one at the top of the page

                    As I was walking home, a National Express coach (440) slowed for the traffic lights, then accelerated through as they changed to green.

                    A faint whiff of chlorine was left lingering in the air as I reached the point where it had slowed, and this made me think of a friend who I shall never see again, due to the exigencies of witness protection

                    I miss him - he was a fine writer. Although he and his family are now hidden elsewhere and I shall never hear from them again (for their safety) here's his poem about National Express coaches - read it aloud for maximum enjoyment:
                    Hell is a National Express coach
                    An overgrown northward-crawling cockroach
                    Full of fellow-travellers on the midsummer roam
                    Replete with luggage and tickets home

                    And they stink of fags, and dogs, and baths,
                    And the bloke at the front annoyingly laughs
                    Hyena-like, at anything anyone might say -
                    Me, my ticket's gladly one-way.

                    The girl in the next seat would normally be
                    A source of mystery and intrigue for me:
                    Where has she been,
                    Where is she going?
                    But without asking, there's no way of knowing.

                    And she's eating her fourteenth packet of crisps
                    And the students at the back are pissed and being sick
                    And shouting, and belching, and swearing, and

                    ...Happy.

                    And there's a mother changing a baby's nappy.

                    She throws me a glance, then looks away.
                    I haven't got a thing to say.
                    Ain't it strange how folk can sit so close together
                    And not say a word to each other - ever.

                    I mean, I'll probably never see her again,
                    Or if I do it'll be on a train,
                    And we still won't talk, or even smile
                    We'll just sit there, mile upon mile.

                    Nothing to drink, nothing to eat,
                    I'm cramped and twisted in my seat
                    I wear my Walkman like a cocoon
                    And pray to God that we get there soon
                    And that I don't have to go before we do
                    'Cause I'm fucked if I'm using a chemical loo.

                    I think, as the destination we approach,
                    Hell is a National Express coach.
                    Last edited by NickFitz; 11 August 2008, 01:20. Reason: Note to mods: I only circumvented the filter to preserve the integrity of the poem - it's art :-)

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                      Morning all

                      NF. Good post
                      Confusion is a natural state of being

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