Script recycling, part 1


…talking of which, may I point you in the direction of this:

…a good read, although somewhat depressing! :open_mouth::open_mouth::open_mouth::pensive::pensive::pensive:


Well born lack of confidence.

They don’t have “little interest” so much as ‘fail completely to recognise anyone else exists’. The school yard at my son’s old school was a sight to behold. Eventually they appointed car park marshalls.



We have an SUV

But we live in the proper country


Don’t have a problem where they are necessary*, but would wholeheartedly support their banning in town centres, where roads simply aren’t wide enough.

*Which also implies they have to be proper workhorses, not the posers’ toy ones.


Ours is a workhorse for the rally job

And able to get up mountains and it is right for our back road/track

I hope that we can be forgiven having a scruffy suv


One which is for a real reason is an honourable thing.

One which is for picking up Tristram and Mirella from their prep schools in the middle of town, not so much so.


Or more likely:

“…picking up Tristram and Mirella from their prep schools about two minutes’ walk away in the middle of town”

Scruffy is a good sign. The problem is the pristine ones owned by gobshites for whom “off-road” extends only to their own driveway and at a pinch the Browne Thomas multi-storey.


Is Isolde in detention ?

*this, as the kids say.


…how much mud on those scruffy tyres??? :roll_eyes:


Sounds like a disease.

There’s a sodding huge SUV thingy that belongs to someone in our road. It gleams. It is utterly ridiculous. No need for it in Sarf Lunnon, ffs. No, I don’t know what sort it is - am fairly ‘car-blind’ - but this obtrudes itself on my attention, being more like a geographical feature than a mode of personal transport. (Actually, it might belong to the people whose cat I inadvertently stole. That would figure. They are howling gits.)

The Hummer always amused me, although purely for nominative reasons. I thought a great deal less of a friend who acquired one on their return to God’s Own Country (or the US, as we tend to call it).


If we took the pressure washer to them we might find tyres under the mud!

Good Irish peat bog and cow farms type of mud!


I did actually encounter this name a few years ago.

Poor child.


Indeed. Some of that raw work which is often pulled at the font.


Unless, of course, they happen to be Italian or Jewish


They would still sound like a lurg to these slightly twisted ears, whatever their heritage.


One at least sounds rather pleasant. Or as I am saddened to learn, sounded–she died on Monday

RIP Mirella Freni…


You should hear what they do to the name in Bristol!

Seriously: it would be fine for an Italian or a Jew in the right area, but in Bristol it’s a bit like making a ten-year-old boy wear a kilt to parties because his name is Ian Douglas and his Grandfather came from Perth.


In Newham, where road maintenance is apparently done by elves or similarly mythical creatures, perhaps slightly more so.

… in Australia.