milton75

Oh, and Leigh Francis has ALWAYS been unfunny. No, Bo Selecta was not any good.

Was going to put this in the TV forum, but I have a few wider questions for P&B regarding what goes on in TV commissioning, and where society is as a whole. So - who decided that this should be on TV? The work behind the scenes for any programme is huge, so a lot of people must believe in this. Maybe it's me that's wrong. Maybe I'm being a ridiculous snob about it, but it looks appalling. Leigh Francis is about as funny as an anal fissure. I guess if Mrs Brown's Boys can be as popular as it is then nothing should surprise me. Channel 4 is still publicly owned. Can I complain about this awful waste of cash?

Cock-ring was left in among the sheets. Easy mistake.

Not sure how I'll sell this PTTGOYN on a football forum, but anyway: today's is discussions on sports and in particular football "journalism". Nothing anyone says about anything makes a difference. And absolutely nothing is insightful or original thought. And the incestuous little industry is pathetic. Reading out bits of facile articles on the radio and getting one of their idiot friends on to praise them for their article that offered such a "rare insight into the dressing room". Piss off. And football writing is the worst. Every poor sap player is quoted as "insisting" something. At least when they're not "demanding", or "admitting" something. F-ck off. They're not doing any of that pish. You're asking them a straight, often pointless, question, and they are replying to it. That's it. "But the manager insists that they can still achieve greatness this year". Does he, aye? Drivel drivel drivel.

I'd like to try a deep-fried pizza and chips (not this "crunch" thing, the OG), but I fear it would kill me.

I have a fondness for cash in pubs, but being honest about it, it is backwards now. Paying by card is faster, and the gripe from cash-enthusiasts for years was that card payments involved folk fannying about at the bar and causing a hold-up. Well now, if that was such a hassle, surely we should be encouraging the fastest-possible transaction with card. People have believed in a variety of religions for thousands of years. Doesn't mean it's not absolute nonsense. And folk in Dumfries are only grudgingly using cash and not bartering sheafs of corn for services, so let's not use them as a standard. I never trusted folk that ordered 70/-. Most pubs that used to have it on tap would also have 80/-, a more gentlemanly endeavour.

Agh, wrong thread. d'oh

I think we also had those books. I have painful memories of tapes that went with them. "Ey 'Enry, passez-moi le sucre". "Bof". etc. Utter shite. Yep, as Dave says, giant big things. You would generally get one at the end of each class and they would take up half the width of the class a piece, slotted against each other. I remember a few highlights of those cupboards: 1) My art teacher (wid) used her cupboard as a sanctuary for teachers that felt cast out by the staffroom imposing a smoking ban. This would be around '92 guess. Was always entertaining going into her class and having 5 or 6 teachers scuttling out her cupboard tying not to make eye contact with your, all reeking. 2) Our resident alki was our Physics teacher. Bit of a maniac and sadly I think there was a horrible story behind it. Can recall what, but have a feeling his daughter had died or something. That said, at the time sympathy for the c--t was in short supply as he was also a massive racist and frequently singled out the only black kid (it was the countryside) in our year for abuse. All this did, particularly given that the kid in question was a) sound and b) cheeky and not shy of giving some back, was turn the class massively against him and it became a war of attrition. I sat beside the boy who dared not to be white and as a result I received one of those giant blackboard dusters to the face on one occasion, which had been hurled at my neighbour. The teacher in question also drunkenly brought his dog to school one day and it was locked in his supply cupboard while he was escorted home. I think his poor wife had to come fetch it. 3) In one of the Maths huts (judging by this thread everyone seemed to have that class in huts) a guy called Martin hid in the supply cupboard for most of a double-period then wandered out, performatively stretching and yawning, and pretending he had been asleep. This made the teacher cry. He made this particular teacher cry quite often, and the head of the department would often burst furiously into the room to find out what the uproar was this time. He was the only one in the bank of four rooms that could control his classes but he was always firefighting nonsense in the other rooms. The stuff I remember that caused this were sellotaping blown-up condoms to teacher's skirt as she passed, using fountain pens to see how much ink we could flick on her desk/whiteboard until she noticed a pool, pushing a portable heater face against the wall until it started smoking and everyone had to get out, everyone pretending to have gone deaf until a meltdown happened, going in early and stealing all the chairs and putting them behind a gardening shed, swapping all the teacher's desk drawers around between the different classes, swapping the whiteboard markers for permanent markers, etc. etc. All funny at the time but remembering now brings up feelings of guilt and c--tishness.

Playing devil's advocate, I can think of occasions that folk would end up in a club by themselves. When I was in my 20s and 30s if we went to any club it was always the Sub Club, very rarely was it anywhere else, and only then cos there was a specific DJ or party to go to. In our 20s there would be long periods where folk would be going there every Saturday (and latterly Sunday when Optimo started, hence my current decrepit and fragile state). Pretty tragic and unadventurous if we're being totally honest about it, but there it is. I'm pretty sure I can remember times either my mates or myself went there on our own. Admittedly it would be safe in the knowledge that there would be people we knew to hang out with once we got there, so perhaps not relevant to Gove's situation, but still. I would guess that there are umpteen shitty wee clubs in shitty wee towns where the locals treat them like a late-night version of a local boozer and wander in by themselves on the basis that they'll know half the people there. Just a guess.

Reynard is still active on twitter I assume. Last I saw was a few years ago now, and he was telling Mad Jill in Edinburgh that he had a gun and would rise up against the SNP.

I get mixed up sometimes. Is MJC the idiot who is a Rangers fan but says he's a Motherwell fan? Edit - if so, what did the buffoon do?

I do apologise. Please forgive my oafish demeanour.

We're in Bishopbriggs and Friday is bin day for my neighbourhood. We have 5 bins, 4 of them being big bins: - Black / General Waste - Green / Garden Waste = = = - Blue / Paper and Cardboard - Orange / Glass, Plastic and Metal These are collected together, grouped as above, on a fortnightly basis, so every week your only task is to remember / look out the window to establish if it's a week for general waste and garden stuff or a week for the recycling ones. Whichever week it is they also collect the 1 smaller Grey bin for Food Waste. I really can't understand why a council would have people looking at a ridiculous calendar like the one posted earlier.

That's about as stupid as I would expect from a city that refers to "circles". Why on earth do they have them on different days?

Big band and anything that made by someone that could be called a "crooner" sucks the beef. It's trite drivel, and that is a hill I am very glad to die on.

RE the planes and buses, etc. Anyone that gets up and queues may as well announce that they are a moron to the room.

The (married) head of the English dept at my school had to leave on account of pumping one of the other English teachers and a couple of 6th year girls. Not all at the same time, I'm afraid.

I don't even think he's deluded enough to be attempting to add weight to the drivel he spouts; I think he's simply an idiot who can't read and speak at the same time. He does those mad pauses in the middle of sentences, words, everything. There's no consistency to it except that it's consistently annoying, and I have zero idea why anyone hired him to do it. It sounds like someone doing a bad Terry Wogan impression. "Celtic are though. ...to the semi-finals of the cup, but. ...it wasn't all plain ...sailing for the team. ...that has struggled of ...late to...." etc. Idiotic.

Does Phil Goodlad know he's on the radio?

Wild dreams this week. Last night I was in Dr No except instead of anything to do with the plot of that movie a mad Nazi type doctor wanted to get a strip of asbestos out my skull because it had secret into on it. He had to inject an anesthetic into my temple to do this, but that was sore as hall too. This all took place during a dinner party affair of sorts where I'd dragged workmates back to my house following a traipse around non-existent country villages that I've visited in dreams over the years. Good times.

What's this? I missed that. Sounds pleasing.

I'm offended by Carry on films, One Foot in the Grave, Call the Midwife and Desmonds. And Only Fools and Horses, Keeping Up Appearances, Mrs. Brown’s Boys, Hi-de-Hi, etc. I'm offended that they were ever made and that anyone finds that drivel funny. Look at this: https://www.whattowatch.com/features/britbox-shows-the-full-list-of-britbox-programmes-in-2021 What a pile of crap. Most of these are programmes you would swiftly skip by if you noticed they were on one of the cheapo channels. Even stuff that is reasonably funny like Fawlty Towers has been repeated a billion times before, and stuff like he Inbetweeners can be watched for free on All4.

1) The child is called "Innocent". 2) The dad squealing "I hed her, I hed her" at the end. Grim.

It looks like utter shite. A bunch of shit that can either be had on iPlayer etc. already, or is repeated ad infinitum on channels like Gold. On the plus side, it was funny to see that talentless clown Matt Forde go on a Twitter blocking spree when everyone pointed out that the new Spitting Image series he wrote for the platform was utter shit.