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I have noticed that the later it gets, the larger the proportion of chavs on the train gets.....There seems to be something about trais that attracts the type of creature you describe.
ReplyDeleteIt seems to me that the rise in the train chavs, may be down to a lack of station and train staff.....One staff member on their own is unlikely to challenge such a group of creatures.
The key to handling booze is to acquire tolerance for ths stuff. You do this by drinking in great enough quantities often enough so that, even when you are blitzed out of your mind, you still don't throw up. Of course, this is also the key to becoming an alcoholic.
ReplyDeleteOh well, life is simply a series of trade offs.
Cheers!
Sorry off topic - but it piddles me off that when the country is having so many troubles, Nulabor and their friends the media goons kick up a stink about a donation that never was a donation.
ReplyDeleteIt does stink, and it stinks of Mandelson's nasty little ways.
So Ken, relocation to Brighton living up to expectations then?
ReplyDeleteIt seemed such a genteel place when my paternal Grandmother moved there from Carshalton all those years ago. I don't suppose many people threw up on the train back then.
Smithy,
Whilst I think Mandy in the flesh is likely to be just as odious as he comes across in the media I am somewhat puzzled about the Oxford Club spat.
Mind you here we are in the middle of a huge financial systems upheaval and all the media seems able to focus on, if focus is the correct term, is some chaff being blown around by what passes for our political class.
Clearly the political classes have nothing better to do now that Brussels runs everything. OK - rules everything. Runs implies more than can be observed. Presumably the hacks are equally underemployed.
If this is Mandy at work (so where does 'Nat' fit in there?) were I Gordy B I would be getting very worried.
Grant
I visited Brighton on summer day trips with my parents on a number of occasions in the 1950s and 1960s
ReplyDeleteand also more recently once or twice on my own. On one such occasion about 1960, I was running by the paddling pool on the seafront when I collided with another boy. The result was that one of my front teeth was knocked out; the other boy did not escape injury, I believe he suffered a nasty cut, although I cannot be certain on the exact nature of his wound(s) as this incident was nearly half a century ago, and in any case, I was too busy screaming my head off! The point is that our parents put it down to what it was, an accident. There was not the slightest question or even a thought of suing anyone, irrespective of who was at fault. Moreover, I did not bear that boy any ill will as a result of what happened, and hope he didn't bear me any; indeed, I hope his injuries were not serious or permanent.