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Moaning and Negativity


bobby47
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In response to our Rebecca who rightly claims that those that moan are fools, this is my response and its not an attack on Rebecca....

I will never stop moaning. Ever! They could whisk me away from my humble dwelling and fly me away to some exotic south sea island and I'd moan all the way there.

They could deliver me to my beach side hut that contained lovely living quarters that were fit to be used by the great and the good and I'd moan about it. Why, because I love moaning. I'll moan and groan about anything and everything.

I could be woken in the morning by dozens of scantily dressed woman who all cried, 'be ours tonight. We can't keep our hands off you' and still I'd moan. These temptresses could be laden with barrows full of super strength lager, hand rolled cigarettes and the finest clams ever recovered from the sea bed and still I'd moan, shouting, 'clear off you harbingers of doom, I'll be damned if I get thrush from you lot'.

Im relentless. These women could sit stroking my thinning bloody hair, washing the sand grit from between my toes and shove clams in my fat face whenever I shouted, 'give me a clam you wanton strumpet', and still, relentlessly and unabated I'd moan and groan my way through the entire delightful experience.

I could be sat in my hut nibbling upon a family bucket of the finest pork Scratchings and there might be a tap, tap, tap on my beach hut door and when it was opened it was Angelina Jolie and I'd tell her, 'clear off Angelina, go bother bloody Brad Pitt Im mixing some ground bait to go fishing you'll not get me to engage in acts of love. Clear off and don't come bloody back'.

At night time after wolfing back a handful of diazepam and psilocybin mushrooms these temptresses could gather around my bed wassailing and singing in pitch perfect tones, Paper bloody Laces rock classic, 'Billy Dont Be A Hero', and I'd tell them, 'clear off. We're trying to get some sleep round here. Go sing your bloody song to that sulking Jolie who clearly isn't used to being told to Sod Off'.

I'll moan about anything and everything and rather than be ashamed of my propensity to moan and bloody groan, I celebrate it and I'll be damned if I stop.

Mark my words, in years to come, the entire population of Hereford will celebrate my service to ranting and raving about this, that and the other, and say, ' Whilst he was a simple man with an extraordinary low intelligence quotient, he was consistent upon two things. Firstly, he refused to catch thrush and secondly he repeatedly warned that the new development would all end in tears'.

And so, to conclude this mindless pigswill and utter codswallop, I say lets hurtle up to Brockington House, gather up our Council Cabinet and transport them all up to Haugh Woods where they'll be rolled around in stinging nettles. That'll teach them a lesson. I wouldn't want to be rolled around in nettles and I strongly doubt that being rolled around in nettles is something that they'd be particularly pleased to participate in. Who would? You'd be an odd sort if you did want that.

There, I've said it. That's just a tiny slice of what's going on within my skull and there's plenty more where that came from.

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I have heard that some dogging groups do in fact use nettles, as do some other groups for medical purposes ( so I'm told), so if any of the Brockington Mafia are doggers then they may have been stung already, a bit like us tax payers.

Anyway,

There is nothing like a good moan down the pub on a Friday night with a couple of beers a mate or two  to put the world to rights so, Carry on moaning and see you at Jims pub for a moaning marathon( Bloggers Bash at the Victory courtesy of Jim the landlord).

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Genius Bobby!

 

Yes, I shall carry on moaning, in fact having spent the past 24 hours patiently waiting for Patricia Morgan to respond to my questions on HT, I am now going to moan about that as well! (She hasn't, if you're interested - but Lovely Liz Harvey made a clean sweep and answered all queries!)

Yes - its good for the soul, and without it, we'd all be worse off.

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Dippy, Yes, I have noticed the absence of any communication from Councillor Morgan. I've also noticed a great deal of communication from Councillor Liz Harvey. You or Jimmy Kenyon would do well to warn this good Councillor about getting burned out. She does put a lot of work in and its clear she cares. The problem is you can care to much and give to much of yourself and end up knackered by it all.

Keep going kiddo. Onwards and downwards!

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I shall certainly do my best Bobby!

Its a little strange to be called negative, when all most of us want is a more positive outcome - but hey ho! You can't please all the people, and I am definitely of the opinion that different views are always a welcome addition!

The world would be a very boring place is we were all the same!

So....Onwards and Upwards Comrades!!

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Of course the nettle is an extremely horrid little plant. There's very little about the nettle that you can like. In fact it has few redeeming qualities which probably explain why it's not mentioned anywhere in either the New or the Old Testaments. Jesus, for example, when delivering one of his cleverly crafted parables, never said, 'behold! The nettle. Aint it lovely.' He didn't say it because, like me and most other thoughtful people, he had no time at all for the nettle. Im sure that during one of his many treks up and down Judea he must, from time to time, have been stung by a nettle, shouted, 'bas.tard nettles' and rued the day his father gave us the bloody plant in the first place.

Of course the nettle isnt the only thing that God gave us that makes no bloody sense. The maggot, the wasp, John Jarvis or a whole bunch of things that were created by God during his seven busy days fixing and arranging things to make our lives more or less interesting. Quite what he had in mind when he gifted us the nettle is quite beyond my understanding. Often when I stagger down the banks of the Wye, keen to fish for barbel and escape the attention of women who desire to have me I'll suddenly stop, experience the sharp pain of the nettles hyperdermic like barbs and shout, 'bast.ard nettles'. Then of course, I consider the throbbing pain that's been bloody delivered to my left bloody ankle and I'll think, 'I've been stung for a purpose. It's all a part of Gods vast plan to make my fishing experience as uncomfortable as he could possibly make it.

Yes, all things considered, given the state our democratic system is in, I'd have no problem dragging a few Cabinet members kicking and screaming through a patch of nettles. Perhaps this is the purpose of us being gifted the nettle. To stop bloody Councillors wasting millions upon vanity projects, gimmicks and pointless and worthless schemes that we can't afford and didn't bloody want in the first bloody place.

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Steve, you haven't missed a thing. Our Rebecca, who's posts I allways look forward to reading, simply questioned, on another thread of news, those like me who are often negative about the new shopping development.

I simply took this view, a perfectly good one, spun it upon its head, embellished it incorporating the word 'fool' and shovelled it out as yet another example of the rancid tripe that I can come up with seemingly with little effort at all.

If I've caused you or Rebecca any offence at all, I appologise and I'll increase my medication that demands I remain in my home rather than become a burden upon the staff at The Stonebow Unit.

I hope that this sincere appology sits well with you. My very warmest regards to you and anyone else who has taken offence with my embellishments of facts.

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I fell off a shed roof into a bed of nettles wearing only swimming trunks on an extremely hot day in about 1959. I was about eight. My entire body was a cobbled street for about a day. It's true, honest, ask any of my five sisters or my twin brother. I can tell you it bloody well hurts, but not for long, so maybe Bobby should think of something more lasting, like....answers on a postcard to B47 c/o Underneath the Arches, Sustrans Bridge, Doggersland, Hereford City. The selected "method" wins a day out with Pat Morgan, visiting bus shelters.

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Your unique way of "embellishing" facts, is one of the many reasons I love to read your posts!

A quite remarkable take on life, which is a breath of fresh air!

 

And the key ingredient.....a cracking sense of humour!

You've got to be able to have a laugh.......or we'd all be jumping from the top of the multi storey car park!!

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How very dare you! I'm not embellishing anything. It's slap bang true. I got a thrashing too, because we weren't allowed on the shed roof. Those were the days! We fished with a bent pin stolen from mother's sewing box,(in those days you could bend some of them without breaking them) a bamboo cane stolen from Dad's garden shed, and discarded baler twine. What were we thinking?

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My timing is awful.

If I could just have posted that last comment two minutes earlier, it would have directly followed Bobby's,and made perfect sense. Alas, this wasn't to be.

Although, having had a quick read through again, it still kind of does!

Evening Simon, I am so pleased you found The Lost Archive Of Olwyn Barnett, it makes for a good read! Thanks for posting the link on HT!

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Your unique way of "embellishing" facts, is one of the many reasons I love to read your posts!

A quite remarkable take on life, which is a breath of fresh air!

 

And the key ingredient.....a cracking sense of humour!

You've got to be able to have a laugh.......or we'd all be jumping from the top of the multi storey car park!!

Not with that £27,000 anti suicide fence you won't

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