dundeebarry
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Posts posted by dundeebarry
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I assume you've been given co-codamol 30/500?
The real dogs danglies are codydramol, dihydrocodeine or tramadol.
Spot on, Pete.
A mate who had a hernia recently gave me some of these tramadol things yesterday. Definitely stronger stuff fhan co-codimol. I was up late on them, and rattled a f**k load of stuff off for a story i'm working on. Had a weird and erratic sleep on them too. I'm not even sure if my collar bone still hurts. I suspect it does, but I'm too spaced to feel it.
These prescription drugs are heavier than I've previously given them credit for.
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My dream last night involved ghost hunting with Paul Merson and Chris Kamara.
Brilliant concept for a TV special. That would be class.
Stelling would be coordinating things from the studio as the pundits roam around a haunted house. Kamara dressed as a Ghostbuster, missing his cues because he's fannying about with his proton pack; Charlie Nicholas and Merson jumping about and squealing at the slightest creek like a pair of wee lassies and Phil Thompson pretending to be channeling Hillsborough victims seeking justice from beyond the grave. ("It was the poliiiissssss"). As soon as the camera was on any of them Matt le Tissier would be heard yelling "Ghost! Oohhhhh!" in the background, yet when the camera switches to him it transpires f**k all's happening and he's just being an attention seeking c**t as per usual.
To finish up they'd gather to do a sceance, reach the spirit of the Godfather of Soul and start doing the dance they do when that James Brown guy scores. News comes in that Stockport are winning and everyone goes home happy.
In short, it would be excellent television and no more of a sham than anything that charlatan Derek Acora is involved in.
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Sadly, this question was asked mere hours before the first Fife derby in nearly a decade, and so I decided to head off to East End Park to watch Rovers get skelped 3-1 while sitting in utter agony. The following day, and a trip to A&E happened where I said to the doctor "I don't think its broken"...which was met with a swift reply of getting telt.
Sadly, this occurred two weeks before the start of Uni. The upside was that when heading out with my arm in a sling, I was from time to time accosted by different lassies asking if I was alright.
You were a brave man attending the match. I'm not sure I'd have managed a Dundee derby of the same magnitude had it fallen on Sunday there.
I went for a pint last night. (Given the fact I'd been battering into the pain killers all day I nursed the same one for an hour then had a Coke. Sensible as f**k). I did notice I was drawing some sympathetic glances from the girls! I also met the Lithuanian lassie I mentioned in the 'How weird are you?' thread, which was nice
The thing I'm taking bad with most is not being able to sleep in any position but on my back. I usually sleep on my front or curled up on my side. I keep instinctively trying to move into these positions and getting a resulting blast of pain, which doesn't make for great night's rest. Getting a t-shirt on and off is also a bit of a nightmare. All-in-all, it's totally worth it for the time off work
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What about the troops on bee watch...? They act at your slightest whimper or command............! They might ignore the fact that you are 'on medication' (most will have probably been there...) but I'm no sure they have the stomach for the massive clean up at Heid Honcho HQ that obviously comes with a 'bottle of laxatives'....?
As ever, awaiting further orders.......I think..?
At ease, soldier. There's a distinct difference between the call-to-arms sounded on a bugle and the more tuba-like parp of my laxative-fueled dowp. Also, the gaseous emissions may ward off enemy attacks. My rectal odour is a more pungent form of mustard gas. French mustard, none of that English bullshit.
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Try and get those on repeat prescription. That could pay for a couple of decent foreign holidays every year.
Every cloud..That's a very good shout, actually. I'm no expert but I think 30mg is a decent dosage. I'm no drug dealer, but it's high time I started dealing drugs.
Any c**t need some pills? PM me. Free thimble of laxative with every purchase.
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An ill-advised 1am bike ride across the Tay Bridge on a friend's bike on Saturday past resulted in me going arse-for-tit over the handle bars and breaking my collar bone. As I was mid-air I thought, "f**k, this is going to hurt," and sure enough my shoulder-first return to concrete was a sore one. After lying moaning in the fog on the bridge's central reservation for a few minutes, I tentatively checked my shoulder and found a nasty bump that, to the best of my limited anatomical knowledge, wasn't meant to be there. Hospital time.
I managed to drag myself back to my mate's house in City Quay then got taxied to Ninewells. A&E was mercifully quiet. I had a nurse take a top quality Jackass-style photo of me with the x-ray of my first broken bone. I was quite drunk and handling the pain well. Alcohol's a great natural anaesthetic. It was quite the carry on. I went home with the promise to return to the fracture unit first thing in the morning.
I woke up hurting like f**k. With the booze worn off the grim reality of a broken bone kicked in. It was fucking painful. When I got up to the hospital the doc started testing out my injury. When he manoeuvred it into a sling the pain was awful. I managed to say, "Mate, I feel a bit faint here," before the lights went out. Next thing I know I'm waking up on my back on the floor, halfway outside the cubicle into the corridor of the ward. Three nurses are over me dabbing my head with a damp cloth and trying to help me up. Fucking shambles.
I went to the doctor today, and scored the following:
Two weeks off work
100 codeine-based pain killers
A bottle of laxatives.
Apparently the pills will give me constipation. I beg to differ. Having been on them since the weekend I've maintained a regular turd regime. Why even just half an hour ago I dropped something much like King Kong's thumb into the bog. I shit like a champ, ain't no need for further assistance.
So anyway, that's me all set for two weeks of getting high and pebble-dashing the toilet. Let the good times roll.
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Apologies if already posted.
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And then he said something about rape.
f**k, the times have changed if rape-chat warrants a ban these days. I recall once writing a lengthy post that detailed the mass-sodomization of the entire Dunfermline away support and never heard a peep in dissent. Perhaps McKee failed to lighten it with talk of using mayonaisse as lubrication.
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Wasn't McKee just banned? And too seething to just accept it & move on like a grown up would?
Was he banned? I had no idea. What happened?
Free McKee!
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Really surprised that McKee has gone down the multiple alias route tbh. How sad.
Inclined to agree with you, TBH. McKee's better than this new- identity-in-an-attempt-to-escape-the-past nonsense. Such behavior is entering the realm of the multi-alias oddball Livi fan, and McKee, who I believe to be a good poster and forum character, doesn't need to go there.
IMO.
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Falkirk?
TBH mate whoever takes Rangers place in the SPL will become an enemy and it will be all their fault. You can have the aggro.
We can handle aggro. Dundee stared Doom straight in the eye, told it its shoelace was undone and ran like f**k when it went down to tie it.
We'll rightfully take pelters if we were to return to the SPL in such inglorious circumstances. I tell you what though, I'd take it in a heartbeat. Drastic improvements would have to be made if we were to make a decent attempt at survival, but promotion is all we've been after for eight years now and we'll take it any way we can get it.
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I can't think of any team more deserving of an admin-related promotion than Dundee, TBH.
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The bold little Lord Fauntleroy hasn't half changed his look. Amazing what a set of hair straighteners can do.
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I'm sorry but in all seriousness I would have a go on that blonde.
In fact - this is exactly the kind of older woman that I often give a cheeky smile and wink to on a night out.
^^^ Tacheman
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reported
To whom, exactly? If it's the dignity police then I agree, the lassie has clearly given hers up much too easily.
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Fucking love this song. I do feel slight pangs of guilt about it though, because I generally loathe this type of shit.0 -
Rodney Marsh
Rodney's dating Lady Gaga's Granny by the looks of things. What the f**k are those gloves all about? And who bar perhaps Keith Richards and actual leopards wears leopard print these days?
Credit where it's due though, the old boy's done well there. Assuming he had a supply of Viagra and enough engine grease to get Gaga's fanny suitably prepared for its first visitor in a few years, I bet he had a cracking time when he got her up the road.
Tacheman would most certainly approve.
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Plus, he cannae spell. Double daft.
His kitchen's an absolute shit-tip too. Boy's a bit of an all-rounder.
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I'm going to my mates house tomorrow to try a hot sauce he bought. This one.
I like watching the videos on that website, The Hot Sauce Emporium. "The Source" looks absolutely lethal. I genuinely think it could kill a man.
From the 'hot sauce disclaimer' page of that site:
As if tasting it wasn't enough, this daft c**t's fucking snorting it.
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Big Gus living up to his name eh?
Put it this way, H_B: the man has hands like shovels, and I've passed many a lift test.
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Oddly enough, in relation to Johnny Cash, it wasn't anywhere near as bad as I feared on the way out- of that exit anyway. Like I said, it was almost like I'd contracted an STI when I went for a pish the following morning.
I don't recall ever suffering from serious ring-sting after eating something hot. Perhaps I eat within my tolerance level. Or maybe my arsehole's taken enough punishment over the years so it's not to be phased by matters as trivial as curry and such like.
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Aye thats pretty much where I draw the line awsell. I love hot food (up to a level where the taste is still good) but once it starts burning my puss off and making me feel ill then its no worth trying to act the bigman by having 5 ghost chillies and lying in your bed crying and sweating for the next three days.
I have a morbid curiosity about ghost chillies. I know full well how badly they'd f**k me up, but there's a lingering desire to give one a pop. Just to see what it's like.
Part of me is putting way too much stock in The Simpsons.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bMR53zHrdzg&feature=related
If there's even the slightest hope of tripping out and meeting a wise fox voiced by Johnny Cash, I think I'd be prepared to throw caution to the wind.
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He also said that you get a lot of stag do's coming in and while some people can do it, others get nosebleeds, or collapse to the floor in pain.
Aftereffects included waking up in the middle of the night drenched in sweat with a searing ball of fire at the bottom of my ribcage that wasn't for moving up or down, and feeling like I was pishing Agent Orange the next day.
Good grief. As much as I love spicy food and like pushing the boundaries of what I can handle (whilst still enjoying the taste), this is just plain sadomasicism. Nosebleeds? Fucking nosebleeds? From a curry? Madness!
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Horrific club photos
in The General Nonsense Forum
Posted
There are a few of me on the web from an Optimo night I attended years ago. The first few, which must have been taken fairly early in proceedings, were ok. Flattering, even. Then there's the one that was taken later on. Fucking horrific. My Ecto Jaw was truly a sight to behold, it was like I'd actually been hit with a shovel or had a stroke or something. The worst thing is I didn't even think I was away with it that night. I dread to fucking think how ridiculous I looked on nights when I knew I'd over-indulged.
Rave safe, kids.