Look, you get born, you keep your head down, and then you die. If you’re lucky.
#fedi22
Man, I love Hopkins. A couple of years go by and there’s absolutely nothing, then she sticks her stupid head above the parapet and says something monumentally hateful or stupid or both. I’d like to remind everyone of this particular gem:
You can’t get fucking picky, mate. We’ve got salt. We’ve got pepper. We’ve got curry powder but we don’t understand it. And we’ve got class A narcotics.
What’s a fella to do? I’ll tell you what! Get yourself a fish supper with salt and vinegar and a truly biblical dose of cocaine on the mushy peas! Now!
Irn Bru. Made in Scotland. From Girders. - fuckin’ brilliant.
Fuck all of you!
On the one hand it’s ‘Hurr durr, the English don’t use any spice’, and now it’s ‘hurr durr, the English over-spice their shrimp’.
I’m only surprised a Reform guy was high enough profile to get named in the files. Except for Farage maybe.
Bunny! Ball ball!
The nature of monkey is irrepressible!
I trust that tastes a lot better than it looks.
Of all non flesh things, olives are the fleshiest.
Ah, yes, that also makes sense.
My new, favourite, curry house is delivery or collection only which, I guess, makes it a dark kitchen. But it’s hands down the best curry I’ve had, locally, in the 14 years I’ve been living here. Customer service is spot on, the food is amazing, never had a bad dish or a problematic order.
Not sure I see the problem. There’s space for both sit-down eateries and delivery-only places.
I am so hot for you right now. I’m a happily married 56-year-old man, but I’m wet, buddy, I’m wet.
SW stands for Soft Wankers.
I use Kenji’s method as well and it’s never once failed. Here’s a video 'splanation in case that suits you better.
I remember a sports day at primary school (I’d have been about 8 years old for those who don’t understand ‘primary school’). There was a 1500m race. I was so last that the guy in 2nd last didn’t even know I was there and he gave up and started walking to the finish. I was still, just about, doing what I called running. My zombie-shuffle-run was faster than his walk! I could see him ahead of me. I would catch him before the line! I would overtake him! I would not be last for once!
Then the assembled parents noticed me. The bastards started cheering me on. The guy in front of me was clearly confused. Looked around. Saw the parents weren’t cheering him on. They were looking behind him. He glanced back. Saw me plodding after him. Urged his legs into a lumbering gallumph.
He beat me.
I was last again.
Fuck you for supporting me, you absolute shower of cunts!
Edit to reflect: I’m 59 and that memory is still clear as a bell in my head. Among other not so great ones…
Don’t worry, I’m bringing the average back up again.
CSI Grindr: “It’s double digested KFC. Fatal.”
Should have eaten moths and worn beans.
I mean, we’ve all done it, right? Right?