Originally Posted by Gilliatt Gurgle
Close Paul, my son tells me it is titled "Voldemort's Non Handed Piss" aka "Voldemort Shakes Dew off Lily" among southerners.
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Its called Solace in the Wind. Perhaps that's a Kiwi euphenism like, "hang on a minute I'm just going for a solace in the harbour."
I should borrow you for the does love exist thread!I'm an insecure woman in a confident womans body; but as no one looks more than skin deep
:facepalm:
I never even picked that that was Wellington. My original thought when you posted it was, "What the hell is Ghandi doing in bluddy Yorkshire?"
Now, I understand. Wellington likes to sell itself as the arts capital of NZ. It has to, since there absolutely nothing else going for it.
Last time I was down there, I reckon I was fishing with the kids from that very spot. Great place to catch stingrays.
It was, however, made by a Pommy!
If you know Wellington, even that's explained. The wind is usally blowing a gale from the direction it's facing, which is why Wellington residents develop a list after a few years there.
Go to work, get married, have some kids, pay your taxes, pay your bills, watch your tv, follow fashion, act normal, obey the law and repeat after me: "I am free."
Anon
Mrs P's only comment was "Has he got a willy?"
I wonder how many Wellingtonian maidens are going fall in to the harbour trying to answer that very question.
That depends upon whether there is anything to hang on to.
Convenient hand-hold?
Funnily enough, that is exactly the piece of wharf Wellington Girls' College sixth-formers jump off into the harbour on the last day of term before final exams.
It's the last day they have to wear uniform and a hundred or so of them dive in every year in full school uniform. Being summer and all in white blouses....
Popular event, that!
Lucky he's made of bronze.
Go to work, get married, have some kids, pay your taxes, pay your bills, watch your tv, follow fashion, act normal, obey the law and repeat after me: "I am free."
Anon
Seems that the world economic situation has penetrated the fastness of W. Yorks. I'm allowed only one Hobnob with my tea tonight. Have I lost my AAA credit rating at the post office? Or is Mrs P on one of her diets that always seems to include me in its privations? Cold Comfort Farm it is.
Last edited by prendrelemick; 08-05-2011 at 05:10 PM.
I'm supposed to be observing one - no chocolate cake biscuit etc etc. I often just forget though and end up absentmindedly stuffing something in.
Diets are a tool of Satan.
That's why women like them so much.
Go to work, get married, have some kids, pay your taxes, pay your bills, watch your tv, follow fashion, act normal, obey the law and repeat after me: "I am free."
Anon
It's the last day they have to wear uniform and a hundred or so of them dive in every year in full school uniform. Being summer and all in white blouses....
Popular event, that!
Lucky he's made of bronze.
Who wouldn't be?
Nothing wrong with observing a diet. I often observe one. "Ah, darling, I observe that you're avoiding your roast potatoes. May I?"
Actually, I have been losing weight, which I needed to do. I have an app for it. You tell it what you've eaten - or what you're considering eating - and it tells you how many calories are in it. It also gives helpful advice. ("The Pret-a-Manger All Day Breakfast? Are you out of your blubbery mind?")
I've lost well over a stone in about four months, which is a sensible rate of shed, I think. Needless to say, this is all without any kind of exercise at all. I even get someone at the office to walk over to the Wharf at lunchtime to bring back my hoi sin duck sushi ("187 calories. Fill yer boots, sunshine.")
We do love Satan.
I found last year that if I just have fruit in between meals, then I do lose the fat. I get lots of exercise, but no have a more sedentary sitty downy job than I did before. That coupled with a later forties change has grown my gut.
Harder to lose these days.
Mrs P loves satin too.
How many blokes have been tempted by satin?
Not here, we like things hot and rough, so we prefer burlap.
How many blokes have been tempted by satin?
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