Oh my word lots of "older" SH people here
Well I'm an oldie - under a new name though - but Martellnotts ring any bells ?
Come on oldies.... pile in....
My avatar's still the same I think ......'Tis my knickers but I don't have them anymore....and if I did they prob'ly would'nt fit me! :giggle:
It's like a gobshite reunion around here..... one or two still missing though!
Well, here I am, wandering around ‘ere for the first time in many a long year. Bugger me…it’s been nigh on ten year since I first bumbled into this place…over five since I last popped in. It seems quiet …I wonder where all the old gang are these days?
I’ve managed to dig out the photo I always used for me avatar...the owd hoss. I had a job to find it: I hid it when them Farm Assurance chaps came round doing a farm inspection…I didn’t want anything reminding ‘em to ask questions about them burgers I sold to Fat Eric down at the Bull.
Yes, I still go down the Bull from time to time…opening time to closing time…and I still sneak a bit of comfort now and again with Sweaty Betty, the Barmaid, whenever I can slip a bit of cattle tranquiliser ( I use on the bull when I clip his feet) into her drink. It’s the only way she’ll pop out back with me these days…especially since she took up Cage Fighting in her spare time. She’s doing well and fights as ‘The Wench from Wem’: undefeated in six fights…and that was just on the bus going to the venue. Ah, where would I be without dear owd Betty to take me mind off getting old and lonely?
Some of you old ‘uns might remember me owd sheepdog, Fly...he often used to sneak in ‘ere. Always hanging around that ‘Girlie Free Zone’ ‘e was…getting pampered and smothered in smelly stuff by them women in there on account of him smelling like a polecat in a bag of chicken giblets. You’ll probably remember that he had a high sex drive…well, more like overdrive really. We used to joke that he’d jump a frog between hops. I never did understand what made him so damned randy: I even tried eating a bit of his grub with mine to see if it would perk my Christmas decorations up a bit... it didn’t…just made by breath stink worse than Betty’s.
Anyway, the owd lad is dead now. He was rogering a dead badger on the main road when one of Eddie Stobart’s finest finally took his mind off sex. I buried ‘im under the patio…got the idea of a soap on TV…and I laid old Brock to rest with him…shame to waste an ‘ole…and it’ll be a bit of company for owd Fly. It got me thinkin’ actually…why spend all this money on badger culls when you could kill as many by subsidising HGVs. I might suggest it to me M.P.
You might also remember me s…sorry, nephew, young Agricola. He got banned off ‘ere by the gaffers. He got out of jail for good behaviour a while back…he’s too thick to be bad…and eventually stopped mooning after that Lancashire lass he was potty on. He was doing ok…met a nice lass from Shrewsbury and got it in his skull as she was ‘the one’. He was set on buying her a ring but being the thick sod that he is decided to buy it from Dodger Davies, the bloke who sells fake jewellery round ‘ere out of an old Transit van. He’s got ‘The Lord of The Rings’ written on the side but most people just call him Hobbit...he hates that. Anyway, he must have seen all his birthdays coming at once when young Agricola turned up and he sold the lad a fake diamond ring for more money than I’d get for all me cows and sheep put together. The ‘diamonds’ melted when Agricola left in the sun in the kitchen window. Then the daft young twaddle made things worse by borrowing the money from Tinker Smith and his crew down at the Bookies in Town…they make most pay-day loan companies look like Christian Aid. I think the bit in the contract where you promise to pay with your eyes if you don’t pay back was the clue that young Agricola missed. He got behind with payments and desperate to save his peepers from Tinker and his secateurs he foolishly got into a bit of ‘alternative herb farming’ above Greasy Jack’s chip shop. Nobody knew until the electric wiring he’d bodged into Jack’s supply caught fire and the whole place-and plaice- burned to the ground. So, he’s back in the ‘House of Many Windows’ again. I don’t think he’ll be growing any herbs for a bit yet.
I haven’t seen any of me owd muckers from ‘ere for a long time now. I had a bit of a look through the old threads...made me laugh again. I often think of ‘em all while I’m sitting in the bus shelter: we ‘aven’t had a bus service for ten years now but it’s nice and peaceful in there and it seems a shame to see that nice bit of woodwork go to waste...but then again, it gets a bit of use at night, judging by what gets left behind: I go for days without almost slipping on a condom and then three come along at once.
Anyway, I’ll potter off back and slip into the Bull for a swift pint and a natter with Fat Eric: Betty’s not there tonight, more’s the pity, as she’s laying concrete up at the Manor for Lord Timothy...or ‘Tight Tim’ as we call him. Mean bastard ‘e is: owns ‘alf the County and folks say he lies awake at night crying cos he wants the other ‘alf.
Lovely night mind…stars are shining up in the sky…I was just looking at one and it made me think of an old mucker of mine off ‘ere from Leeds.
Stars can do things like that.
Cheerio then
Arti
:rotflmao: :grin:
just sitting here shyly in the corner.. nice to see everyone!
:lol: :lol: 
