That seems very fair, Janie.
I suppose I was expecting antennae plural because of Our Very Own Bee ;- )
That seems very fair, Janie.
True be told, I forgot the ‘e’. Then I became enamoured of the idea of a single antenna sprouting from the top of my head, so much more streamlined.
And so like my own dear Mini.
Wosie’s Picture of Mummee & OooorCoos:
…mmmm, how can we tell the difference? …er, um TheCoos aren’t revolting and wouldn’t be better off euthanised, whereas Mummee…
…oooooooooh Henweeeee est perdu! (…hallelujah & thengyew God!)
…oooooooooh, Henweeee est retrouvé! Oh merde! (…buggeration and darn!)
…why doesn’t Johnny just tell Fweddy to FUCK OFF! …and mind his own sodding business!!
Alas, no Ambridge resident is capable of such a level of rationality (see also: Snell, L. passim)
That a brat of Pip’s accidental daughter’s tender age is ‘drawing’ is yet more evidence that the SWs know nothing of children. One begins to wonder what they do know about. She might, just might, have developed a pincer grip, although it would be more usual for it to be at least a couple of months later. But the notion of drawing will simply not be there. She might try to eat the crayons (see also Henry Archer, who I am sure still does). Other than that - nope, not a chance of even an attempt at a cow or even her mother, hard though it might be to differentiate between same.
Bah! Pah! Gah!
and Infanticide please
I think Nick Warburton must be childless.
Sometimes I am quite proud of my fellow women
Gott sei Dank!
What? …only 12 acres? (…hushed silence!)
(…small voice from the back: "…but they are “ARCHERS” acres!)
Tuedsday’s scrapin’s: (…last line)
Vexx: “…target JusDim Eliot!”
…er, so who’s the best shot?
…Dopeys? …anyone with the surname of “Archer”? (…oops, sorry, wrong vowel)
…to be cont. in scrape #94
Reflections on Wednesday’s Scrapings:
Russ? …as a sounding-board?
Sounds good to me! …although on reflection I think PC WoodenCop might be made of more suitable stuff? (…aside: I think that might be said about the whole TA cast! )
…pauses to re-light pipe:
…and now, ProfJimmus! …and that bloody SmellWomun! …oh, Joy! (…oh, buggeration, I sincerely hope not!)
Happy Thanksgiving, World! (…although in the light of this stuff, what in Gawd’s name do we have to be thankful for?)
It was something of a turkey, Sturmers
…makes me truly thankful I’m a vegetarian! (…for the past 55+ years!)
Hey nonny no!
Pretty much sums up the acting in TA these days
Tonight’s offering plumbed new depths. It was a very long twelve-point-whatever minutes of cringing disbelief punctuated by shouts of “F---- off!”.
I managed to struggle on by half-listening while reading something else.
I realise that Eddie is hard of thinking, but how does it make sense not to penalise the first one who started with, “Ho, ho, ho” but castigate the others for being boring. Can we assume the hopeful Santas were not privileged to witness their predecessors’ efforts?
They did manage to convey that pretty clearly. They waited outside (where outside? Strange sort of village hall with a room with sufficient seating for ten or a dozen as well as the main room) and went in individually to confront Cecil B. de Grundy.
Unutterable tosh. Except the bastards uttered it.
Right, so if you are auditioning for Hamlet and one more person launches into ‘To be or not to be’ you send them packing?
No, I have no idea why I am even trying to make sense of it.
And then there was the old 'I’m trying to say something (Russ) but the other person won’t listen (Clarrie, no change there) so the Party of the First Part gives up (no, you would not get Russ to do something he thought beneath him to spare anyone’s feelings, never mind Clarrie Grundy).
Though, come to think of it, how did he get persuaded to be the Easter Bunny?
Blackmail? Most people are ashamed of something.