Fight Club Pub., page 31
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reply posted on 11-9-2008 @ 02:19 PM by schrodingers dog
reply to post by MemoryShock


Mr. Shock can you tell my esteemed opponent that I enjoy our intellectual tete a tete.
Wait how do you say tete in Welshish?


reply posted on 11-9-2008 @ 02:19 PM by TruthWithin
reply to post by MemoryShock


Judging by how much you debaters drink, I figure I could make a small fortune selling these things around here. I will just have to get the specs and put some of these bad muthas together!




reply posted on 11-9-2008 @ 02:22 PM by TruthWithin
Originally posted by schrodingers dog
reply to post by MemoryShock


Mr. Shock can you tell my esteemed opponent that I enjoy our intellectual tete a tete.
Wait how do you say tete in Welshish?


I believe the Welshish word for tete is "rugby". Got your helmet?



reply posted on 11-9-2008 @ 03:16 PM by budski
reply to post by TruthWithin


bah
rugby players don't wear helmets.

or full body armour like those NFL pansies.

they bump heads for real
news.bbc.co.uk...



The Haka:
Ringa pakia Uma tiraha! Turi whatia! Hope whai ake! Waewae takahia kia kino! Ka Mate! Ka Mate! Ka Ora! Ka Ora! Tenei te ta ngata puhuru huru! Nana nei i tiki mai! Whakawhiti te ra! A upane ka upane! A upane kaupane whiti te ra! Hi!!

The Meaning:
Slap the hands against the thighs! Puff out the chest! Bend the knees! Let the hip follow! Stamp the feet as hard as you can! It is death! It is death! It is life! It is life! This is the hairy person Who caused the sun to shine! Keep abreast! Keep abreast! The rank! Hold fast! Into the sun that shines!






Nutters - and I played this in school and at college - til I got sense.

[edit on 11/9/2008 by budski]

[edit on 11/9/2008 by budski]


reply posted on 11-9-2008 @ 03:26 PM by schrodingers dog
reply to post by budski


Liverpool supporter?
Bunch of merseyside trouts you are.
Go Chelsea!

Now where was I, oh yeah the Welsh, too many walls.


reply posted on 11-9-2008 @ 03:30 PM by budski
reply to post by schrodingers dog


Don't you mean ChelSKI?

Checkbook champions, and can't usually manage that.

History and tradition boy, history and tradition


reply posted on 11-9-2008 @ 03:59 PM by schrodingers dog
reply to post by budski


CALM DOWN CALM DOWN!



First the Welsh
.
Now the damn scousers!


reply posted on 11-9-2008 @ 04:01 PM by budski
reply to post by schrodingers dog




Well don't have a go then

You would have to pick on welsh and scousers - is it perhaps glasgows turn next?




reply posted on 11-9-2008 @ 04:03 PM by schrodingers dog
Originally posted by budski
reply to post by schrodingers dog




Well don't have a go then

You would have to pick on welsh and scousers - is it perhaps glasgows turn next?







No can do, wife is from Renfrewshire, she WILL stab me, AGAIN!


reply posted on 11-9-2008 @ 04:20 PM by budski
reply to post by schrodingers dog


So will scousers and welshmen

Can't win really - brits are nuts, and the irish are worse.




reply posted on 11-9-2008 @ 04:34 PM by schrodingers dog
reply to post by budski


The Irish are indeed the worse, as far as I can tell anyway.
I can't understand a word they're saying.
Probably for the best.
And what's with the singing with THOSE PEOPLE?




reply posted on 11-9-2008 @ 04:42 PM by budski
reply to post by schrodingers dog


Well, being of irish descent (father and mother) but being raised in the north west of england, the only excuse I can think of is that we like to have a good time.

And a good time includes music

And music includes singing


reply posted on 11-9-2008 @ 04:43 PM by MemoryShock
Originally posted by schrodingers dog
reply to post by budski


The Irish are indeed the worse, as far as I can tell anyway.
I can't understand a word they're saying.
Probably for the best.
And what's with the singing with THOSE PEOPLE?


HEY!!!!!!!!!

Ait's The Luock o' thee Eyerash, Ait Ais...yay, caan't meass withe thate!!


reply posted on 11-9-2008 @ 04:55 PM by schrodingers dog
reply to post by MemoryShock


Sunday Bloody Sunday. What a great song. It really encapsulates the frustration of a Sunday, doesn't it? You wake up in the morning, you've got to read all the Sunday papers, the kids are running round, you've got to mow the lawn, wash the car, and you just think 'Sunday, bloody Sunday!'.

Potato Famine: At the end of the day, they will pay the price for being a fussy eater. If they could afford to emigrate, they could afford to eat at a modest restaurant.

Alan Partridge.





[edit on 9/11/2008 by schrodingers dog]



reply posted on 11-9-2008 @ 06:57 PM by budski
reply to post by schrodingers dog


Yes.

They could have the spare ribs.

What were they thinking


reply posted on 11-9-2008 @ 08:30 PM by MemoryShock
Originally posted by schrodingers dog
Sunday Bloody Sunday. What a great song. It really encapsulates the frustration of a Sunday, doesn't it? You wake up in the morning, you've got to read all the Sunday papers, the kids are running round, you've got to mow the lawn, wash the car, and you just think 'Sunday, bloody Sunday!'.


I don't think you understand what it means to be Irish...(granted, my ancestors are Irish; I live in the Colonies).

At any rate, Sunday, you wake up to the realization that there are many things that could use taking care of, look to the kitchen to find a mostly empty box of cereal (there is, however, enough for a quarter of a bowl...a small bowl), sigh a reflief because there is no milk any way and then head on outside to pickup the newspaper (in this case, ATS). After reading the headlines, you realize that something is missing...and walk to the pantry to grab the Bushmills (in this case, Bacardi Gold). You pour a double shot (because it is Bloody Sunday; IRA be damned) and fight back the regurgitative reflex while chasing with orange juice (which should have been Coke and then milk, but you are out of both). You then make a mental note of all the tasks that need accomplishing and realize that they will indeed be there tomorrow and the world won't end in the interim.

Seven double shots later and a bunch of semi coherent newspaper interpretations (in this case, ATS posts) and you get up to visit the privy only to trip on the chair and hit your noggin slightly on the desk, which results in a slight cut, invoking an out of context statement meant to be clever, "Sunday, bloody *%&%^ Sunday,"...

This is not a true story...but it some how seems more accurate than your picket fence portrayel..
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