Youri McAnespie

Hemingway did it standing up. I also read Orwell used to infuriate his father by writing whilst pacing around smoking fags and drinking tea - to his father writing was sommat you did with pen and paper sat at a desk.

I've tried standing up to work, the laptop perched atop a (small) grandfather clock - it doesn't work, the back still aches (less so than sitting, but still).

Hang this beast... In seriousness, my lower back is playing up to fuck since I've recently increased my 'sedentary' working, perhaps this bearded suspect has touched upon the right idea? http://www.diytreadmilldesk.com/build-treadmill-desk/

Regarding Casino, previously, if you were an occasional customer then yes, the service was often perceived to be shite... Regular customers, they'd think differently, it was generally good. I wish I could say the service hadn't deteriorated since privatisation - it's no bonus for me being able to say ''I told you so..." whilst being made to suffer a poorer service. I'm dreading to think what the run-up to Christmas will be like.

My postmen are good (they mainly work in pairs, don't you know), it never seems to have happened when it's them - however, I get loads of parcels and they don't work six days a week, so subsequently I seem to get a good number where some thieving (and, thankfully, clueless, I might add) c*nts have had their mitts all over it. Folk will probably counter ''why should the taxpayer subsidize the service?'', to which I'd ask, ''why should the taxpayer keep the shite end of the stick when it was sold off?"

Butter some bread, slice some corned beef, from the tin, mind, slice some onions - make a butty with these with plenty of salt and pepper - it's a culinary delight in two minutes, rivalled only by lobby/'ash.

Pickled onions? Silverskin onions? We had one jar of those, once, for the wake of my grandma, the vinegar and jar was then re-used to make fresh pickles with sliced onions - I've still got that jar and vinegar now, thirty two years later, ready to make a fresh batch of pickles. You've let it slip you've moved into the middle-classes there, Maggie, with talk of buying pickles in.

She's got form for this... As Barry Norman used to say, and why not?

Contrary to popular opinion it isn't made from ears and arseholes - they're not short of beef over in that Argentina, Brazil etc. - it's made from half decent cuts. People turn their nose up at corned beef, perfectly good stuff, and eat all sorts of shite like sausages of dubious origin.

I mean that in a Fred West way, not a, I forget his name, Eric Whatever, the football agent with the cigar.

Monster.

Potato, onions*, corned beef, tap water, possibly a bit of oxo or gravy browning, salt and pepper. If that sounds bland, add more salt and pepper. If it still sounds bland, add pickled red cabbage, or pickled beetroot, or homemade pickled onions (sliced onions bunged in an old pickle jar, re-using the original vinegar) to serve. Accompany with any Warbies, but preferably Toastie or Green. If you're on a la-di-da health kick - Hovis. That is the definitive recipe. * edit: I have to admit, I fry the onions these days, all fancy-dan - like the chefs at The Ivy. I find a bit of 'flora' or 'lurpak' does the trick if you've no lard or dripping going spare.

Ripped open/inspected parcels before privatisation/'streamlining' - zero. Ripped open/inspected parcels after privatisation/'streamlining' - approximately twenty five. Thieving wankers - you pay wages and have conditions to suit smackheads who couldn't give less of a fuck, you get smackheads who couldn't give less of a fuck.

Following on from another poster mentioning they received their Wanderers third kit top with inspection holes ripped in the parcel, I today received what must be the twenty fifth parcel in nine months that has had holes ripped into it - obviously made to check the contents. I've therefore come to the conclusion that this company, which some of you will have shares in, or have made a butty buying and selling the shares of, has now in their employ, legion(s) of thieving shithouses... There is of course, the slight chance they have an infestation of very large and curious mice at their depots.

Theoretically, if a friend/acquaintance/workmate rang or texted you at 1am to tell you they had a pissed out of her tree girl alone in a hotel room and did you fancy coming for a visit, would you... a). Grab your car keys, get your boots on and get over there to fill your boots - text a couple of younger mates on the way over, see if they want a job as camera crew. or b ). Tell them to piss off and then start to re-evaluate your friendship? If it's a). you've answered, then you probably think the 'Rough Justice' team should get on the case for poor, old lad Ched. IIRC the one who 'pulled' the girl was acquitted because she'd consented to sex with him before she lost capacity, Evans was found to be a rapist because he pitched up after she lost capacity, having previously never met her btw, and proceeded to rape her... Should he be denied employment due to his crime? No, he's served his time. Should he be given employment with our club? You'd hope not. If this case had involved four 'P*ki' taxi drivers, or, say, bouncers, of any hue, general opinion would probably be (rightly) along the lines of 'stone the cunts', because it's footballers some of the opinion seems to be more lenient, to say the least. Perhaps there's more to it than this, but he's been tried and found guilty in a court of law, the character of the girl in question is irrelevant. If you rape a prostitute - it's rape, if you rape a porn starlet - it's rape, if you rape a good-time girl who's with a different bloke every week and likes her weed and coke - it's rape. Perhaps in future young blokes will think on, before assuming that a girl being comatose or being up for it previously with one of your mates is giving implied consent.

They were all watching The Wicker Man in Leigh, not the film with Christopher Lee and The Equalizer, a real human sacrifice being burned in a Wicker Man. Not way back when, this afternoon.

I've got about twenty parcels this year via Royal Mail that have had inspection holes ripped into them... Let the market decide, and let the temp staff decide if your parcel is worth nicking.

Rage against The Washing Machine... Was he your style icon back then, Frank? I'll bet you wanted one of those 'Fuct' longsleeve T-shirts, but alas, no internet then.

I did think of you as I wrote it, I wasn't masturbating tho'...

That's what I see happening, how many come to study in Manchester (or Salford) every year? How many stay on after graduation? How many apartment buidlings are in and around Manchester now, people won't live in apartments forever - especially when they have kids. Manchester will grow and eventually absorb Bolton I reckon, like the 'metropolitan area' thing in the States...

That Daniel Poole made some naff stuff, I bet that hasn't aged well.

I've looked all over the internet for a picture of one of those Blue Kappa ski jackets that were all the rage in Bolton, around the mid to late 80s - they had silver arms... Me and three mates all had one (spoiled little b*stards come to think of it, they weren't cheap) - we must've looked like complete tits all in the same coat(s).

I reckon' it's possibly a chicken and the egg thing, I wonder if if/when the puberty stick strikes in a bad way you just think "Oh well, in for a penny..." - I was quite successful with the girls until I turned thirteen, then I must've thought I'd go all out to put them off for a few years...

I imagine this 'bloke' wouldn't be averse to wearing a pair... He's a dandy alright.