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Shrapnel laden old cunts


Decimus

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So my motor is in the garage today and I decided to risk catching crabs by taking the train into the city for work. Due to the abysmal timetable, I found myself with 40 minutes to kill. Lovely says I, I'll grab a pint and perv on some women in the pub. I realised I was out of fags so decided to pop into the shop near the pub for a pack of ten and a peperami wide boy. In the queue ahead of me was a decrepit, pissed soaked old bint dithering about. Next thing I know, ten minutes has passed whilst the old bat cashes in fifteen scratch cards and pays for enough value priced cat food to keep Frank in bedsit munchies for an entire year. As the old twat was still under the impression it was fucking 1974, it decided to pay for everything in tuppence's and ha'pennies, a task made even more laborious by the disgustingly greasy imbecile behind the counter who it appeared couldn't count past ten. What the fuck an octogenarian is doing wandering the pitch dark streets of the inner city unaccompanied at this time of night, I can't fathom. I can only hope that the old cunt gets viciously mugged for wasting my fucking drinking time. Cunt.

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I thought this was going to be a thread about terrorists. Or possibly bacon.

Not quite bomber, although funnily enough we have been put on a "recognising radicalisation and preventing terrorism in Norfolk" course at work. What kind of chance has the county's grand total of 6 Muslims got against a crack team that consists me, Dave in the post room and Big Julie from accounts?

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Not quite bomber, although funnily enough we have been put on a "recognising radicalisation and preventing terrorism in Norfolk" course at work. What kind of chance has the county's grand total of 6 Muslims got against a crack team that consists me, Dave in the post room and Big Julie from accounts?

...hmm....big julie, eh? Can you send me her mobile number? 

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Guest Wizardsleeve

As long as you've got high definition, panoramic technology and a sixty inch flat screen, you're in for a fucking treat. 

Sounds like my mother in law, except I know she doesn't work. 

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  • 1 month later...
On ‎27‎/‎10‎/‎2015‎ ‎19‎:‎58‎:‎23, Decimus said:

Not quite bomber, although funnily enough we have been put on a "recognising radicalisation and preventing terrorism in Norfolk" course at work. What kind of chance has the county's grand total of 6 Muslims got against a crack team that consists me, Dave in the post room and Big Julie from accounts?

Ive now got the intro to The Champions tv series in my head now. But I bet Big Julie looks nothing like Alexandra Bastedo.

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5 minutes ago, scotty said:

I don't care gypps, I just want to see Big Julie. Deccs ought to do the decent thing and post a pic.

Unless you're posting on a 1988 Crays super computer with a screen which spans the entire frontage of your house, I doubt you'd fit more than her right cuntflap into frame.

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2 hours ago, Decimus said:

Unless you're posting on a 1988 Crays super computer with a screen which spans the entire frontage of your house, I doubt you'd fit more than her right cuntflap into frame.

Can't you set up a projector on the South Bank and beam a picture up onto the House of Commons and Big Ben, like they did with that TV presenter girl who went out with matey from the Prodigy? Her! You know who I mean? Say it was an art project or something.....'an external deconstruction of the cunts that work inside the Palace of Westminster', something that'll keep Plod occupied whilst we all get a good old gander at Big Julies vertical smile and decide whether we'd give her a punch up the whiskers or not.

Get it sorted man - your public awaits!

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19 minutes ago, Jiggerycock said:

Can't you set up a projector on the South Bank and beam a picture up onto the House of Commons and Big Ben, like they did with that TV presenter girl who went out with matey from the Prodigy? Her! You know who I mean? Say it was an art project or something.....'an external deconstruction of the cunts that work inside the Palace of Westminster', something that'll keep Plod occupied whilst we all get a good old gander at Big Julies vertical smile and decide whether we'd give her a punch up the whiskers or not.

Get it sorted man - your public awaits!

Gail Porter. 

You wouldn't get much change out of her now, the poor bint.

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