Harry Potter Posted June 15, 2017 Share Posted June 15, 2017 Harold, Two simple suggestions: Drink less Set an alarm for each hour. Yours, Aunty x Harold, ha ha, cheers Aunty x Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Riddley Walker Posted June 15, 2017 Share Posted June 15, 2017 Riddles, the former. Cuddles from Aunty. Thanks. Would you rather lose both of your pinky toes, or have Hibs win the double five years in a row? Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Morgan Posted June 15, 2017 Share Posted June 15, 2017 Thanks. Would you rather lose both of your pinky toes, or have Hibs win the double five years in a row? Bye bye pinky toes. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Morgan Posted June 15, 2017 Share Posted June 15, 2017 Harold, ha ha, cheers Aunty x No bother Harold. Aunty xx Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
John Findlay Posted June 15, 2017 Author Share Posted June 15, 2017 No bother Harold. Aunty xx Get a room you two:-0) Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Morgan Posted June 15, 2017 Share Posted June 15, 2017 Get a room you two:-0) Good thread by the way John! Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
John Findlay Posted June 15, 2017 Author Share Posted June 15, 2017 Good thread by the way John! A problem shared. Is a pain in the arse and all that. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Ryan Jarman Posted June 15, 2017 Share Posted June 15, 2017 Dear Morgan. You get a grand tax free a week for a year but, at some point during each week, could be when you are asleep, on the shitter, anywhere, Neil Lennon gets to come up to you and hoof you square in the balls. You are not allowed to retaliate, neither can you resist. Warm regards, RJ Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Morgan Posted June 15, 2017 Share Posted June 15, 2017 Dear Morgan. You get a grand tax free a week for a year but, at some point during each week, could be when you are asleep, on the shitter, anywhere, Neil Lennon gets to come up to you and hoof you square in the balls. You are not allowed to retaliate, neither can you resist. Warm regards, RJ Ryan, you are setting up difficult scenarios. Most folk would love the chance to put their knee into Popcorn teeths nuts so the probable answer is 'feck the money'. Best, Morgan Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
luckyBatistuta Posted June 15, 2017 Share Posted June 15, 2017 Dear Morgan, Would you rather have a phallus where your nose is, or a vagina where your mouth is? Thanks Love Riddley. And it just keeps getting better Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Morgan Posted June 15, 2017 Share Posted June 15, 2017 And it just keeps getting better It was a good one. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Marvin Posted June 15, 2017 Share Posted June 15, 2017 Marvellous Marvin, this is the first one to stump me. I'm struggling to see the connection between Batistutas pussy and your Tetley addiction? Perhaps if you can furnish me with more details I can offer some advice. My breath is bated. Aunty. When I read pussy, it made me want a cup of tea. The only antidote cos I ain't getting any. Can you help captain? Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
luckyBatistuta Posted June 15, 2017 Share Posted June 15, 2017 When I read pussy, it made me want a cup of tea. The only antidote cos I ain't getting any. Can you help captain? Shocking, I was talking about a cat. Anyway, where are you getting your tea bags, I gotta get myself some of those Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
peter_hmfc Posted June 15, 2017 Share Posted June 15, 2017 Wait, if Morgan is the Agony Aunt himself, who will he write to about his unrequited burning love of jonnothejambo? Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
luckyBatistuta Posted June 15, 2017 Share Posted June 15, 2017 Wait, if Morgan is the Agony Aunt himself, who will he write to about his unrequited burning love of jonnothejambo? Glad it's not just me that noticed it Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Marvin Posted June 15, 2017 Share Posted June 15, 2017 Shocking, I was talking about a cat. Anyway, where are you getting your tea bags, I gotta get myself some of those Apologies for my one track mind. I use Yorkshire tea bags and watch Top Gear. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
peter_hmfc Posted June 15, 2017 Share Posted June 15, 2017 Glad it's not just me that noticed it Their sparks have lit up the "seethe thread" and "Facebook behaviour thread" for months now. It must be love, looove, love, doo doo... doo! Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Morgan Posted June 15, 2017 Share Posted June 15, 2017 Wait, if Morgan is the Agony Aunt himself, who will he write to about his unrequited burning love of jonnothejambo? Glad it's not just me that noticed it Their sparks have lit up the "seethe thread" and "Facebook behaviour thread" for months now. It must be love, looove, love, doo doo... doo! I just write to myself. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
luckyBatistuta Posted June 15, 2017 Share Posted June 15, 2017 Apologies for my one track mind. I use Yorkshire tea bags and watch Top Gear.Yorkshire?, I've had them and they certainly never tasted like cat juice to me You maybe need to pick up a cat at a different pet shop in future Their sparks have lit up the "seethe thread" and "Facebook behaviour thread" for months now. It must be love, looove, love, doo doo... doo! Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
peter_hmfc Posted June 15, 2017 Share Posted June 15, 2017 I just write to myself. "Dear diary, jonno quoted me again today, and used the smug smilie, he know it's my favourite ." Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
luckyBatistuta Posted June 15, 2017 Share Posted June 15, 2017 I must right myself. Ftfy Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Morgan Posted June 15, 2017 Share Posted June 15, 2017 Ftfy Indebted. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Morgan Posted June 15, 2017 Share Posted June 15, 2017 Ftfy Thank you. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
luckyBatistuta Posted June 15, 2017 Share Posted June 15, 2017 Indebted. Thank you. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
jamboron Posted June 16, 2017 Share Posted June 16, 2017 A problem shared. Is a pain in the arse and all that. So are piles John. LOL. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Harry Potter Posted June 17, 2017 Share Posted June 17, 2017 Wait, if Morgan is the Agony Aunt himself, who will he write to about his unrequited burning love of jonnothejambo? Im always here for him, dont know about the burning love though, bit too much lol. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Bauld Posted June 17, 2017 Share Posted June 17, 2017 Im always here for him, dont know about the burning love though, bit too much lol. If there's burning love I recommend a trip to the GP. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Morgan Posted June 17, 2017 Share Posted June 17, 2017 If there's burning love I recommend a trip to the GP. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
John Findlay Posted June 17, 2017 Author Share Posted June 17, 2017 If there's burning love I recommend a trip to the GP. But, he's asking Morgan. Answer the man:-0) Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Morgan Posted June 17, 2017 Share Posted June 17, 2017 Yes, go to the doctor. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Morgan Posted June 17, 2017 Share Posted June 17, 2017 But, he's asking Morgan. Answer the man:-0) Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
elvoys Posted June 17, 2017 Share Posted June 17, 2017 Lenny Siberia was the ******* offspring of Captain Africa (the lard mogul) and Tracy. The captain disappeared without Tracy who perished alone with her diamond collection, the victim of a mau-mau hit squad, leaving Lenny alone with the one thing money can?t buy: poverty. He was discovered at one year old by a wayward nun; he had been living in the dumb waiter of the zambezi juice bar. Sister James (for it was she) lost no time in mailing the child, by first-class parcel post, to a friend in Brussels. Fortunately he was erroneously delivered to the Eros Luxury Club, a converted charabang in the bowels of Manchester?s la quarti?re latin. The proprietor, a swarthy ill-mannered character of Armenian origin, received the package with a bestial grunt. Taking a curved knife from a canteen of curved knives, he slashed it open. Lenny gazed into the face of this his first stranger and what he saw was pure malevolence. He ran down flattened streets patrolled by aimless amputees through a world of refugees, out of the cold war into the deep freeze, he ran out of money, he ran into trouble. He was adopted by Sheba and Rex, a pair of alsatian dogs who regarded the boy with an uneasy ambivalence. They lived in an Art Deco cocktail cabinet by the bicycle sheds of Salford Metropolitan Police Compound. They were devout Catholics. It was arranged for Lenny to attend the School of Our Lady of the Seven Robes of Gold by the Garden of Sorrows in the Vale of Tears which was run with teutonic efficiency by the little daughters of the sick under the iron rule of Mother Cyrene. Mother Cyrene was everything rancid to Lenny: her mouth a malignant slit in the murderous mask she called a face; her cheesy breath steaming up his spectacles; her eyes like mobile ball bearings ? their colour left a mechanical taste in the mouth. Daily religious instruction furnished his vacant mind with tales of treachery, morbid betrayals, oceans pink with the blood of multitudes, saints looking to the sky their living bodies smashed by hammers before the alien idols of the heathen. Incense filled his nostrils with the fatal breath of ghosts, hermaphrodite choirs droned in his ears. Each student could elect to spend their free time in one of three ways: sporting activities, visiting the sick or in the service of the Knights of the Sacred Orchid. The latter seemed the least demanding, the most hygenic, and it also appealed to the lad?s naive sense of chivalry. The Knights of the Sacred Orchid held their thrice-weekly routines in the spacious open-plan lounge of the sinister Raoul, who affected the manner of the proto-fascist with psychotic attention to detail. His navy blue hair sleeked with ancient grease, his meagre Don Amechie moustache waxed stiff like the legs of a dead fly. He went nowhere without the chums. The chums were namely Horace and Boris, the brothers Morris, a titanic duet each in possession of a powder-blue safari suit and arms of anthropoidal length. Their physical immensity fully emphasized the stiff angular grace of the nifty Raoul who now led the way into the lounge. The lounge was furnished by three rows of seven leatherette easy chairs faced by one formica table. The curtains were the colour of mustard embellished with the bleeding heart motif. The walls were hung with colourless daubs. The carpet was monotonous, its pattern gave the impression of small animal crapping at regular intervals. The whole scene was lit by a soundless colour TV and a row of six orange table lamps in which shifting globules of molten wax moved like specimens of rare snot. Enter Mother Cyrene, flanked by the chums and a hyper-reverent Raoul who wore the look of a man obsessed. She stood on the table and began. ?Even as I speak a filthy tide of bolshevism issues from the dives of tin pan alley in short the world is a subterranean playground for lounge lizards from every sphere of idleness and crime who their pockets a-jingle with Moscow money go unchecked about their evil business take china cathedrals ransacked churches turned into judo schools I have seen the finest laundries in the world converted into bordellos for the gratification of the lumpenproletariat what with the drink trade on its last legs and the land running fallow for the want of artificial manures I leave you with this thought?? Mantovani strings cascaded from the Queen Anne Dinatron stereo system. Everyone crossed themselves and left. The chums in their lilac Isetta bubble cars headed for the golden finger bowl where they were employed as part-time knuckle merchants. Upon his arrival at the compound, Lenny to his horror, found the cocktail cabinet in flames and his devoted guardians, Sheba and Rex, their heads split by faceless vigilantes, slaughtered in the rabies scare of ?62. ?Christ! Where do I live?? thought Lenny in genuine desperation and the heavy traffic seemed to whisper ?Raoul, Raoul.? So for two weeks Lenny resided in Raoul?s broom cupboard which he shared with an upright vacuum cleaner and Doris the chums? slender loris, a cute little number redolent of the lazoon of Fireball XL5 fame. Raoul imbued Lenny with the tactile beauty of the luger and the surly prose of Mickey Spillane. Finally, however, it was the prospect of nude fencing lessons that drove Lenny out. Leaving a bag of onions for Doris he left silently via the laundry chute. That winter he got a job at Barmy Sid?s Elephants Graveyard of up-to-the-minute accoutrements, during which time he moved into the bathroom with an all-girl cycle gang. On the back of a Woodbine packet in lipstick he wrote this his first poem: The mopeds head for the seaside Yvonne Looked at trees And her stomach turned ?That?s arguably the greatest poem in the world today,? enthused a sudden voice. Lenny turned around to see a tall, loose-limbed young man dressed in the beatnik anti-mode of the committed; his lank hair was hacked into a carless coup-sauvage style favoured by the existentialists who were A-1 credibilitywise in the flourishing capitals of the EEC. Lenny noticed that although his lips moved his voice seemed to come from the side of his neck. His name was Reg Trademark, heir to a crumbling biscuit empire who, by virtue of his artistic endeavors, had secured a position of trust at the Marxist-Lenninist ping-pong club. He persuaded Lenny to declaim his work the following Thursday at the club?s variety night. Among those appearing were Harry, Barry, Garry, and Larry, the Brothers McGarry, reading a three-hour concrete poem entitled ?The Yes No Interlude?; a neo-functionalist mime troupe presenting a two-act play based on ?Stop the World I Wanna Get On?: a novel by Larry Dines concerning the Judaeo-Christian ethic of self as not self. Finally, however, it had to be agreed by all that the night belonged to Lenny; agreed by all but Larry Dines who had been poisoned. In a vain attempt at bourgeois credibility Lenny changed his name to John Cooper Clarke and under this title embarked on a polysyllabic excursion through Thrillsville, UK. Yes, it was be there or be square as, clad in the slum chic of the hipster, he issued the slang anthems of the zip age in the desperate esperanto of the bop. John Cooper Clarke: the name behind the hairstyle, the words walk in the grooves hacking through the hi-fi paradise of true luxury. Gotta love montavani Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
aussieh Posted June 17, 2017 Share Posted June 17, 2017 Who's Morgan? Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
aussieh Posted June 17, 2017 Share Posted June 17, 2017 Bye bye pinky toes. Pinky toes, aye feck off. It's wee toes. Ask the Piggies Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Morgan Posted June 17, 2017 Share Posted June 17, 2017 Who's Morgan? Pinky toes, aye feck off. It's wee toes. Ask the Piggies Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Dawnrazor Posted June 18, 2017 Share Posted June 18, 2017 Dear Morgan. I never laid a finger on her, honest. It was the boy that done it, I've video evidence. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Morgan Posted June 18, 2017 Share Posted June 18, 2017 Dear Morgan. I never laid a finger on her, honest. It was the boy that done it, I've video evidence. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
luckyBatistuta Posted June 18, 2017 Share Posted June 18, 2017 Dear Morgan. I never laid a finger on her, honest. It was the boy that done it, I've video evidence. Dear Morgan I'm confused, is this some kind of cryptic message...how do you know who/what this person is talking about? Do you have previous knowledge of this phantom letter writer, for all we know he could be a raving serial sex pest? Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
aussieh Posted June 19, 2017 Share Posted June 19, 2017 Dear Morgan. I never laid a finger on her, honest. It was the boy that done it, I've video evidence. Aw naw, hide it, big Innes is coming. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Morgan Posted June 19, 2017 Share Posted June 19, 2017 Dear Morgan I'm confused, is this some kind of cryptic message...how do you know who/what this person is talking about? Do you have previous knowledge of this phantom letter writer, for all we know he could be a raving serial sex pest? Mr Batistuta, nothing cryptic about the Midori. A former poster on here (who posts under a different name now) used to get blootered on the stuff and it became a bit of a joke. In answer to your second question - I have no prior knowledge of the phantom. I do however concede that he may well be a 'raving serial sex pest' as you put it. Can I be of further assistance in your quest for inner peace? Aunty xx Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Morgan Posted June 19, 2017 Share Posted June 19, 2017 Aw naw, hide it, big Innes is coming. Now even I'm lost!! Who is big Innes? Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Bauld Posted June 19, 2017 Share Posted June 19, 2017 Now even I'm lost!! Who is big Innes? Loves the midori. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Morgan Posted June 19, 2017 Share Posted June 19, 2017 Loves the midori. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
luckyBatistuta Posted June 19, 2017 Share Posted June 19, 2017 Mr Batistuta, nothing cryptic about the Midori. A former poster on here (who posts under a different name now) used to get blootered on the stuff and it became a bit of a joke. In answer to your second question - I have no prior knowledge of the phantom. I do however concede that he may well be a 'raving serial sex pest' as you put it. Can I be of further assistance in your quest for inner peace? Aunty xx Dear Organ, I'm not sure if I was around for this, or I have just maybe forgotten about it. Anyway, on to my question Now even I'm lost!! Who is big Innes? Loves the midori. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Morgan Posted June 19, 2017 Share Posted June 19, 2017 Dear Organ, I'm not sure if I was around for this, or I have just maybe forgotten about it. Anyway, on to my question Organ Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
luckyBatistuta Posted June 19, 2017 Share Posted June 19, 2017 Dear Morgan, ?I am a ??-year-old man. My wife has a strange habit of urinating in the tea she serves guests at our home. ?She says it gives her a kick. Though I was shocked at first, I have started to enjoy it too. ?In fact, I do the same when making tea for guests. I have heard that drinking urine is not harmful. ?Is it safe to continue doing this?? Kind regards Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Morgan Posted June 19, 2017 Share Posted June 19, 2017 Dear Morgan, ?I am a ??-year-old man. My wife has a strange habit of urinating in the tea she serves guests at our home. ?She says it gives her a kick. Though I was shocked at first, I have started to enjoy it too. ?In fact, I do the same when making tea for guests. I have heard that drinking urine is not harmful. ?Is it safe to continue doing this?? Kind regards Batty, I can quite understand how your wife gets a kick from this practice. Hell, I got a kick (amongst other things) from just reading your letter. It is of course quite safe to imbibe urine. It is also very beneficial in the prevention of jellyfish stings. Keep on peeing. Pierre xx Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
luckyBatistuta Posted June 19, 2017 Share Posted June 19, 2017 Batty, I can quite understand how your wife gets a kick from this practice. Hell, I got a kick (amongst other things) from just reading your letter. It is of course quite safe to imbibe urine. It is also very beneficial in the prevention of jellyfish stings. Keep on peeing. Pierre xx Pierre Feel free to pop round for a cuppa next time your over. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Morgan Posted June 19, 2017 Share Posted June 19, 2017 Pierre Feel free to pop round for a cuppa next time your over. My tongue is hanging out. Thanks, Pierre x Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
luckyBatistuta Posted June 19, 2017 Share Posted June 19, 2017 Dear Morgan ?Last night, I was playing strip poker with my wife and some neighbours. A poker chip accidentally fell off the table and bounced into next doors chuff. Are there any chances of pregnancy?? Kind regards Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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