SatanGreavsie

Great quote from Didi Hamann's autobiography: ‘One morning I was on a sun lounger by the pool when I saw Sven walking towards me carrying a silver tray with a bottle of champagne and two glasses on it. It was still only ten o’clock in the morning…Sven came over and put the champagne on the table next to me, then placed one glass in front of me and the other by his lounger. I looked up and said, ‘Boss, what are we celebrating?’…He turned to me and smiled that gentle smile of his and took on the air of a Buddhist philosopher as he said, ‘Life, Kaiser.’ Then after pausing for dramatic effect, ‘We are celebrating…life.’

That's the thing isn't it. Jump in a Tardis, pick Nat in his prime up and bring him back here and put him straight into a match: he'd be fucked. Do the same, but instead give him a year to train and adapt before introducing him - everyone else would be fucked.

Town hall and fountains and various streets in this from the 60s. Fountains etc at 38 minutes on. Oh and Hayley Mills's arse from just after 49 🙂 The Family Way - HD (1966) - video Dailymotion

tickets arrived - why does it say adult below the bar code but concession U18 plastered everywhere else?

You've got to be cunting joking??? Blasphemy

The elephant debacle gets a mention here, though they claim it was from Belle Vue Spotlight on Wingates | The Bolton News

Wingates bone-works. Now that was a smell! Specially the time they tried to render down a dead elephant from Chester zoo 🤢 I'm not sure how it was killed though. There's probably various options...

First series theme tune was best. Here comes Huggy Bear (what a dude) and they messed with Capt Dobie at their peril.

https://youtu.be/4qoS9DZ2X24

Went round the houses for two (other one in my "network"); got there in the end but not both on same row. Then it wouldn't accept card number until I completely refreshed, which I assumed would scupper it all but apparently not. So whole just seems bloody random and entirely unintuitive. Bit like watching Bolton down the years!

Yeh, takes me back many many years when as a kid in Howfen when in summer hols I'd walk the dog through Dobb Brow and by the golf course and then across fields towards Dicconson Lane. Always struck by how there was an old railway line path still visible albeit completely overgrown; and looking now it must have been an old line that served stations at Dicconson Lane and on to Hilton House.

One for the old ITV wrestling watchers - Cry Baby Jim Breaks, he of the "Breaks special".

Went to a Jocky Wilson exhibition match when I lived in London. He was pissed up - but it was notable that when someone got close to him in a match, he'd just blow them away. Three bulls on the trot for example.

Well what a year. Yet again a new Bishop of Lincoln was needed. It's a dirty job, but someone's got to do it. After appointment I kept a low profile, especially after those dawn raids on a couple of local parochial church counsellors. No weapons found, but they'd kept the crystal meth thingy quiet. Could have been a nice little earner that. I'll be having words when they get out. Anyhow, the devil makes work for idle hands as they say, so while laying low I got a good group together before any event was actually planned. We had our organist; he was previously done for wounding within tent. I say "within tent" as while it was obviously done "with intent", the fucker he set fire to was dossing illegally at the far end of the vicarage garden at the time. Serves me right for banging on about the plight of the homeless during my sermon a month earlier I suppose. But fair does, you don't expect one of the dirty cunts to pitch up at your gaff do you?! It's not like that Ukrainian lass and her two daughters I put up in the outhouse for a few months. Fact is I've got better things to spend my collection plate money on - and one was the Oikosnet Europe Christian Academies conference in Basel in October. The organist was up for it as were a few lay-readers, the choir-master (now the charges had been dropped by the Ukrainians) and a handful of members of the local inter-faith group from other religions. Some of the things them lads get up to...well, my lips are sealed. What happens in the knocking shop, stays in the knocking shop. Specially when it's run by the deputy chair of the local Townswomen's Guild. I also roped in the lass who is the Moderator of the General Assembly of the Church of Scotland. For some reason I'd met her at the church of St. Epididymis in Coupar, down the road from St Andrews. God know why I was there - maybe child maintenance payments or something, or the freebie Open tickets I got for bailing Canon Belcher out of a ruck at that that North American Anglican Conference back in 2017. I'm sure the Bishop of Little Rock, Arkansas, has regretted that day ever since. From the comfort of his wheelchair. Anyhow, I knew she was up for it when I found her pissing in the font and calling in a result to an Archdeacon from the Gaelic Church who, on the side, runs a combined chippy/beauty parlour ("Wax'n'Chips") in South Uist. He thinks we don't know about that; well the threat of a tip-off to HMRC might make him see the error of his ways. Getting to Basel was a pain. Customs seemed to have rumbled us until we played a blinder. Turns out the Jock lass self-identifies as a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel. It's on her passport and everything. So under EU EDI rules we got waved in (after she got a rabies jab). There we found things strangely quiet. Hardly a soul about apart from a couple of high-church Pentecostals from Telford. UK churches tend to stick together when abroad but we couldn't resist giving them a slap and nicking their phones. All in good fun. It was so quiet, me and the verger of St. Tenesmus's on the Isle of Wight (knew him of old from borstal) decided to call upon the pleasures of a lady on the night. Christ, they don't pay attention to their undergrowth them Swiss. "Basel Brush" we nicknamed her; scrawny as well - she needs to get to that Hebridean gaff, where I'm sure the Archdeacon would happily offer her "laying on of the hands" in return for a week's worth of scraps and a Brazilian. Anyhow, half way through (ie it was sloppy seconds for me next) we get a call from the Mother Superior who acts as our spotter. Coughing her guts up as usual ("the smoking nun" we call her) she said it was all kicking off at the cathedral over the road with some mad Eastern Europeans from the autocephalic Serbian Orthodox Church (Српска православна црква). "Fuck that" - we thought - "these lads are veterans of Bosnia". And so we waited to see what transpired and how long it would take before the hirsute brass tried to nick our wallets (as it turned out all she got were the Pentecostals' phones - they'll not be happy to find they're now running a sex line in Zurich). I watched horrified from a distance, through pube and piss stained windows, as Jock was taken away on a lead and the inter-faith lads barricaded themselves in the vestry flying a hastily scrawled banner proclaiming themselves to be atheist Manx tourists only here to visit the cable-car museum. To cap it all the Serbs then called in with proof that the organist wasn't going to be playing "Onward Christian Soldiers" to our local congregation any time soon. He'll also, it seems, not be "secretly" fingering that Deaconess from Grantham for a while either (discretionary stipend money well spent by yours truly on a hidden GoPro, if I say so myself); well the Lord moves in mysterious ways, so maybe I'll pay her a visit with the footage. As I left the hovel without paying, via the bog window, I vowed my revenge. And it came sooner than I thought...

Got me trying to remember the geezer who scored a hattrick. Tim Buzaglo (I had to cheat).

Aye, but this must be the "called off" game not the LC semi? The gate for the replayed match is recorded but not the original. But I remember the papers the next day having it down as 33k. Can't believe all 33k got out alive. BUT then again, this is clearly a night match - which that one wasn't....

Oldham 1978. First attempt got cancelled due to weather. Snowballs at the rearranged one.

and one wag operating it often put the Filth down as heavily losing

"Oh Mr Darcy" she gasped. "I can sense that dreadful erection behind me. Reeking of a baleful miasma of fear and evil. It is something unholy that I should not visit for fear of the peril upon my eternal soul!" "Aye, sorry about that love. I meant to have a shower after leaving your sister's, the mucky bitch". "Anyhow, let's pop in that castle for a quickie". "Oh Mr Darcy" she gasped. "I do look forward to the tales of your recent trip to Greece. Did you spend much time on the Acropolis?" "Never off it love. Them kebabs went straight through me" "Hmmm...well I have just one request to ask, to make our time in Istanbul perfect in every thrilling way. Will you take me up the Bosphorus tomorrow?" "Fucking get in!" "Oh Mr Darcy" she gasped. "I vouchsafe that we are to be visited by some malevolent spirit intent on our demise. I just sense - call it a sixth sense if you like, one that I inherited from Papa, the Lord Acorah - that something is approaching that bodes ill for us both; it is here now, I feel it in my very bones! It chills me to the marrow!" "Don't worry love, it's just Little Whitt after them Orient away tickets I promised him. Mithering get" "Oh Mr Darcy" she gasped. "Come here and stroke my pussy. See how its fur glistens in the sunlight; it feels wet, like a vision of pure lubricity. Come; make it purr like non you've ever stroked before". "Aye love, err the thing is the chippy is just about to open so I need to dash. You know how bad the queues get..." "Oh Mr Darcy" she gasped. "Come back - I wasn't talking about Tony here. He'll be back in his cage in an instant. Mr Darcy - how dare you steal my horse and carriage you northern rapscallion - do you have no honour? Don't you want to take me in the privets as you always promised?" "Oh Tony" she gasped. "It seems it's just me and you...I've always liked stripes. Tony! Come back from that cage! Christ. What does a highborn lady have to do to get a shag round this garden? I'll just have to tend to my clematis on my own"

Mix up with a message. Someone offered him a straightener at the club shop and he duly obliged.

No, no, no. It's: Roses are red Chestnuts are tan I've got a knife Now get in the van Works every time

Prince Harry Oh sorry, I though the title said "worst missus"

This geezer in El Paso should pack his job in, do his badges and come to the NW Preston Bolton - Student - Peace Officer Training Academy | LinkedIn

And the perfect symmetry of being in the first and last at the old ground. Saudi's PIF could spunk all of their $0.75T and still not achieve that, by definition. History in the making, which is why I can still feel the second's worth of collective thrill of anticipation we'd got to know in previous games...yes!...only to get it shattered into oblivion. Fucking hell - still hurts when I think about it.