[distant flappity]
[sniffity sniffity]
[perfect perchity on top of gin-bottle]
Let’s see the hoverplod do that in fog like this.
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You have to me; and I think the Cellar should be a level playing field (possibly paved with a flattened brass section).
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Once upon a time there was a man (and he was an Old Etonian) who played in a band in Bristol. Perhaps it was a little large to be called a jazz band, but if you think of say the Temperance Seven or the New Vaudeville Band, one of whose members played in it for fun anyway, that will give you the general idea.
He played the sousaphone, among other instruments.
Now, they had a regular gig on the outskirts of town, and he had no car and none of the rest of the band had a car large enough to fit him and the sousaphone into in any sort of comfort and anyway they didn’t live in the right direction, so late on that night each week he would walk home from way out on the M32 to his flat in Clifton.
We told him about St Paul’s being somewhat of a red light district, but he didn’t really credit it, because he never saw any prostitutes when he was walking through it, a man on his own late at night.
Eventually someone pointed out (because they had been passing in a car and had seen it happening) that when they saw him coming, all the girls who hung about in a scantily dressed way on the corners of the streets in that area would duck into alleys and otherwise conceal themselves until he had gone past. We rather assumed that a man walking along wearing a sousaphone was too outré for them, and they were more afraid than interested in the possible money. But as far as we could tell he never did really understand why at that point in the conversation the rest of the band had cracked up so completely.
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Ooof!
Just taken me best part of an hour to order chocolates for a friend. After wasting many sweariewords on the website, whose security page refused to communicate, I spoke to a NYM, name of Adam, who couldn’t have been more helpful.
Pitcher, anyone?
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Please Gus
It’ll wash down me lasagne, azzitwere…
Carinthia.xx
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Nothing worse than grubby pasta al forno, is there, Dahlink?
Cheers me dear.
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Chin chin chin
That’s all 3 of mine accounted for… 
Carinthia.xx
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Could I ask for beer please?
I have been persuading a mermaid to sit on her rock and stay there
3 sticks of glue later I won!
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[ginnity] forran Gus
[vodkity] forran Carinthia
[beerity] forran Twellsy (only one thing on their minds, mermaids, and you’d think they’d have learned by now that they don’t have a choice about keeping their knees together)
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This one wants to try being a norty gel
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Bastard halogen recessed spotlight sodding bulbs. Sooo clever that something needing to be pushed up and then held in place by a fiddly sprung clip mustn’t be touched with the bare hands, ‘because oils’. There was a half-day holiday in Hell when some fiend came up with that idea.
Gah.
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Tissue,I should think. Also, washed hands. Also, LED bulbs in future?
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What I had in stock are halogen. Yes, washed hands, obviously. But you try getting the clip in while holding the bulb in with a piece of tissue or kitchen roll. Perched on a ladder.
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I have. It’s a bugger. We now have LED spotlights.
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More of a pâté that a gel, I’d have thought
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Joe dear she was threatened with pate-hood and various culinary ends
Including being introduced to a Japanese chef who knows how to cook with raw fish
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Presumably the sharp ones?
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Nitrile gloves, Dahlink
Carinthia.xx
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To be honest, I was hoping more for volunteers with Pointy Implements to help hunt down the onlie begetter of the feckin’ things and perforate them throughly than for sensible suggestions involving Stuff I Have Not Got.
But ta anyway, Darling ;- )
PS: the buggering clip pinged out, didn’t it…
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Sashimi dear Joe
That scared her into sitting long enough for the glue to set…
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