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Blog Comments posted by caldrail
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In england it's okay to destroy the bambi population as long as it was an accident, and make sure you don't carry it off and cook it. The guy following you is allowed to do that however.
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You've tried them?
You have no idea how true that is of Swindons fairer sex. Most are temperamental, bullying, foul mouthed, usually plump-esque and really not that attractive. Our town is way above average for under age sex and single parentage (I'm not responsible for that mind you - trust me, I haven't got the patience or body armour to cope)
But all the same there is such a thing as tradition. We english persons like our traditions. Especially the sexier ones.
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Yes it did. Definitely a good omen, fit to be ignored by Job Centre bureaucrats on orders from upstanding pillars of the community outraged at my outrageous attempt at DIY lording. But thanks for the offer of a prezzie. You really ought to have sent a serf to deliver it. You do need to think this way if you want to impress. Call it.. management training.
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When an organisation says something will have minimal impact, what they mean is that they haven't got the time, money, or inclination to do anything about it.
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Unsightly and actually sometimes dangerous. Blades come off occaisionally. I'm not too concerned with birds hitting these things - they hit everything sooner or later, including cars, aeroplanes, and their own reflection in a window - but I just don't like them. It's an unreasonable bitter hatred I suppose. Don't care. Turbines are 'orrible nasty things and I'm slowly turning into a raging NIMBY.
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Oh yeah, I know where you're coming from. All I have to do is hear Black Velvet by Alannah Myles and I'm back in the nineties, driving an open top car in bright sunshine with the world falling at my feet (please don't misunderstand what I mean!). Well, it felt that way at the time.
Sleepy Satellite by Tasmin Archer has a similar effect on me. Both songs make me remember good times.
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I'm reminded of an old Dave Allen joke. It's a bit politically incorrect, but what the hey...
An englishman, an arab, and a jew are sat on a bus. A fly buzzes around the englishman and he shoos it away muttering about the standard of cleanliness on middle eastern public transport. The fly heads over to the arab. He watches it intently, then grabs the thing, chewing on it and enjoying the extra protein. Another fly buzzes around the jew. He watches it intently, then grabs the thing before turning to the arab and asking "You want to buy a fly?"
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Yes, that often ends in a fight too, doesn't it?
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Yeah, I know what you mean about flies. Every year in summer I open the front window and they're queueing up outside to be let in. I ought to charge admission.
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Nah, you're safe. The British only react in a negative way when you use the phrase 'Jehovahs Witness'. At which point we throw tantrums, abuse, and buckets of water at our unwelcome guests, or perhaps just a polite "Go away" if you don't want to get into the newspapers.
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I admit I have no understanding of cat behaviour at all. They remain a complete mystery to me. I do prefer dogs. "Feed me or die". How simple is that to understand? Come 'ere Rover... I SAID.. COME HERE!... Got a titbit for you... Nice little biscuit...
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I was watching Psychic TV last night. Whilst it is a shameless way of extracting peoples money via phone calls, I was struck by the sense of helplessness of the people leaving voicemails for the psychic team to sort out. I mean, one woman phones in saying she's two months from losing her home. Okay, the psychic sympathised and so on, which is polite if nothing else, but then she brings up a 'Sun' tarot card which apparently means strength. It wasn't any form of insight or prophecy at all, it was just a form of counselling.
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All good entertainment I see. Thing is though, you were cheated. Since gladiators were bare chested - what happened with the gladiatrix pair?
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Are you suggesting that the great god of weather is not going to bless our british festival of winning medals? His priests on television will point at their sacred maps and proclaim an unusually cold snap. Or do you have doubts? Or do you speak out against the weather god, unbeliever!
PS - Must keep pile of stones handy.
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Yes... That instruction manual gag? Humour old boy. humour. Anythiong to send KGB agents on a wild goose ch.... Hang on a minute!.... Do you speak russian by any chance?
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Yeah, I know what you mean. I've just uploaded my finished route for MSTS (that's the Pahusett River at www.train-sim.com, there's screenshots of it on their forums). Strictly speaking railways might be viewed as a little more grown up than the Duke (all blokes are little boys at heart, right girls?) but that took three years to polish off. That means statistically I can finish six more and be halfway through another before I die of old age.
Oh stuff it. Where's my Duke Nukem CD?
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There's a curious thing about that - on television, the student is whooping and telling everyone how fantastic it is. In reality, he's silent, because as a neophyte the business of flying keeps him too busy. In the last series of The Apprentice, the winners of a round were given flying lessons and I remember one of the women was screaming like she was on a fairground ride. Boy, did that instructor struggle to grin.
One point about getting lessons. Flying clubs vary in their policy and some will attempt from the start to sign you up for a full course of 50 hours flying right there and then. Others are more open to negotiation and willing to give a one-off instructional flight. What none of them will do is give a joyride, because that's commercial flying which they're not licensed or qualified for. But them the whole point is to fly for real isn't it?
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I always encourage people to try it at least once. Not everyone gets a buzz out of it, as I don't with sailing, but none of my passengers ever got out at the end of a flight and said they hadn't gotten anything from the experience.
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That's interesting, because I heard one disgruntled believer in the Gay Caldrail Theory mutter "Never read such a load o' crap in all my life" as he stomped past my home, clearly distraught that his carefully constructed world view has been sabotaged by events in the straight community.
Mind you, don't hold your breath. I can't afford many Mars Bars.
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There's an Italy? I thought they went bust?
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Some domestic cats do revert to feral activity very easily. As a young child I remember our family cat was like that. Always on the prowl.
There was one cat however that learned people were generous with milk and titbits if it playfully rubbed itself up their legs. Man that cat was cute, and it knew it. Eventually we found out it was doing that with the households in the area and that we weren't especially blessed with its scrounging ways. What a hussy.
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maybe you bought the wrong cat? For hunting food, I recommend a bigger stripey one. You'll get fewer burglaries too.
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probably. No-one in England knows any spanish. We learned a long time ago that shouting louder saves you all the effort of learning
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You know, just lately someone asked me about my title and what all that stuff was about. I told him why I went for it, what it means to me, and so forth. That made me think. It's been a while since I've honoured clear thinking, common sense, and right of all human beings to look askance at convention, but you've earned it. So then...
Henceforth, Docolove, thou art an honourary citizen of the Imndependent Peanut Republic of Rushey Platt. Congratulations.
R-E-S-P-E-C-T
in The Language of Love
A blog by docoflove1974
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That's interesting. Here in blighty we're all wondering who he was. Plus we're distracted by sportsmen dying at the age of 52. Not that we know which sportsman he was, you understand, but there you go.