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Posted
2 minutes ago, daisycutter said:

hmmm, red, don't know whether you are very perceptive or very prescient

I am not really into the "P" adjectives.

Posted
5 minutes ago, Redleg said:

I am not really into the "P" adjectives.

the more i think of it though you are probably right. earl's converted warehouse is probably full of cheap imported hipster underwear he sells on the blackmarket to his fitzroy clientele whilst still claiming social security benefits.

Posted
2 hours ago, daisycutter said:

the more i think of it though you are probably right. earl's converted warehouse is probably full of cheap imported hipster underwear he sells on the blackmarket to his fitzroy clientele whilst still claiming social security benefits.

Yes and with each pair of "Calvin Kleens" you get a free can of guava paste 

  • Like 2

Posted
22 minutes ago, old dee said:

Guess what guys we have just won three from three, practise matches or not how long is it since we won three form three ?

Sweetness and light.

Posted
6 hours ago, Redleg said:

I am not really into the "P" adjectives.

So you never get [censored] off every now and again? :lol::) Or pleases? Or precious? Or ... :o

Posted

Very pleasant day today actually, in the morning after a hearty breakfast I completed the warehouse stocktake with Conchita and we have enough guava paste, Cuban cigars and Havana Club rum to meet all our future orders. 

I then got on the bike and rode helter, skelter to Etihad via the Capital Trail bike path using the HIIT methodology. I got there in record time of course, walked straight in and my first highlight was walking past Jack Trengove and Van the Man, gee they look fit! I am sure I then walked past Saty wearing his MFC away Guernsey with a new hair cut as well. I settled down near our cheer squad but I was so exhausted I the fell asleep and missed the first half. Apparently we played quite well. 


Posted (edited)
3 minutes ago, Earl Hood said:

Very pleasant day today actually, in the morning after a hearty breakfast I completed the warehouse stocktake with Conchita and we have enough guava paste, Cuban cigars and Havana Club rum to meet all our future orders. 

I then got on the bike and rode helter, skelter to Etihad via the Capital Trail bike path using the HIIT methodology. I got there in record time of course, walked straight in and my first highlight was walking past Jack Trengove and Van the Man, gee they look fit! I am sure I then walked past Saty wearing his MFC away Guernsey with a new hair cut as well. I settled down near our cheer squad but I was so exhausted I the fell asleep and missed the first half. Apparently we played quite well. 

Conchita Wirst must have exhausted you Earl. 

Are you a bicycle MAMIL or are you a fixie man?

Edited by Moonshadow
Posted
23 minutes ago, Moonshadow said:

Conchita Wirst must have exhausted you Earl. 

Are you a bicycle MAMIL or are you a fixie man?

I have several bikes, I took the clunky mountain bike today. It is heavy but stable and requires more energy to move it along so it burns more calories. I don't have a fixie, too dangerous in the inner city traffic I think. 

Posted
8 hours ago, Earl Hood said:

I have several bikes, I took the clunky mountain bike today. It is heavy but stable and requires more energy to move it along so it burns more calories. I don't have a fixie, too dangerous in the inner city traffic I think. 

The verbal abuse a fixie will attract might cause severe damage to your psyche Earl.

Stick to those shyteful little share cars.

Posted (edited)

Well I'm finally back at the Manor after an arduous few days in Cantberra. I noticed our resident Dr Hopping Dicks alluded to a locale named Fyshwick which I presumed was where one found the seafood market. Being partial to the occasional clam, I headed out that way.

Well what a surprise! It was where one would likely find Cantberra's version of the Gat. Which brings me to the point of my ramble. In a particularly scrofulous location I noticed a faded sign. " For love potions, poultices and cures for the pox contact your ever reliable Dr John D...". The rest was obscured by various stains and fluids. Scant evidence I agree but nonetheless, the question must be asked .

Does our Good Doctor have a sordid history buried in our national capital and is his retreat to a hillbilly hideaway a means to escape a criminal past? 

Edited by Bitter but optimistic
typo
  • Like 2
Posted
6 minutes ago, Bitter but optimistic said:

Well I'm finally back at the Manor after an arduous few days in Cantberra. I noticed our resident Dr Hopping Dicks alluded to a locale named Fyshwick which I presumed was where one found the seafood market. Being partial to the occasional clam, I headed out that way.

Well what a surprise! It was where one would likely find Cantberra's version of the Gat. Which brings me to the point of my ramble. In a particularly scrofulous location I noticed a faded sign. " For love potions, poultices and cures for the pox contact your ever reliable Dr John D...". The rest was obscured by various stains and fluids. Scant evidence I agree but nonetheless, the question must be asked .

Does our Good Doctor have a sordid history buried in our national capital and is his retreat to a hillbilly hideaway a means to escape a criminal past? 

I think time has eroded the legibility of that sign Bitters.

I believe it more than likely read "Dr John Hewson"

Posted (edited)

I believe the good Dr likes to "slum it "on occasions.

Who doesn't really,except the godawful bourgeois bogans who are forever soiling the Gat with their cleanliness.

One wonders how much Dr John can converse with the intelligentsia in Hopping Dix without going completely rogue.

Edited by Biffen


Posted
4 hours ago, Bitter but optimistic said:

Yeah but he never knew how much to charge. Went out of business.

I never have any such dilemma.

One must trust free market forces.

Posted
7 hours ago, Bitter but optimistic said:

Well I'm finally back at the Manor after an arduous few days in Cantberra. I noticed our resident Dr Hopping Dicks alluded to a locale named Fyshwick which I presumed was where one found the seafood market. Being partial to the occasional clam, I headed out that way.

Well what a surprise! It was where one would likely find Cantberra's version of the Gat. Which brings me to the point of my ramble. In a particularly scrofulous location I noticed a faded sign. " For love potions, poultices and cures for the pox contact your ever reliable Dr John D...". The rest was obscured by various stains and fluids. Scant evidence I agree but nonetheless, the question must be asked .

Does our Good Doctor have a sordid history buried in our national capital and is his retreat to a hillbilly hideaway a means to escape a criminal past? 

I don’t know to which advertisement you refer, but lest it afford you any opportunity for further innuendo or vulgarity I should say in my defence that, as far as I am aware, all evidence* trace of my dealings with the nation’s leaders was removed by the Federal authorities many years ago. It is unlikely therefore to refer to my medical* therapeutic practices, although I would remind you that the stain on a reputation is far more indelible than any to be found on a mere, fading affiche in the gradually gentrifying location of Fyshwick (of course, were I the gentleman in question I presume I would have takes such stains as ample proof of the success of my potions).

Having escaped* decamped to the north and discovered the field generally occupied by mountebanks and hucksters of many stripes all claiming some impossible association with Byron Bay, I decided that there was little opportunity for a simple, honest apothecary* alchemist such as I to earn a living taking advantage of the miseries of those whose ambitions outstrip their capabilities in matters of the marital (or other) bed. I am now occupied in other pursuits which your insinuations can only begin to guess at.

Suffice it to say that, having recently taken over the presidency of the Hopping Dicks Progress Association in a well-drilled putsch, one project involves organising one of those twinning arrangements with a suitable village in the Rhône region. This may entail significant absences and substantial payments to suitable ‘advisors’ as negotiations unfold.

 

* amendments introduced on legal advice. As to any imputations about my criminal past, let me just say that no proceeding of a court has ever been successfully concluded in relation to allegations or indictments against me.

 

 

  • Like 2
Posted

 

On another matter altogether, I’ve been doing some research for reasons I won’t bother going into on the WW2 history of the Cox Peninsula, N.T. (I suppose that some less than reputable habitués of this thread will draw a line between that name and the name of the quiet and respectable valley where I live, and come to some prurient conclusion, All I can say is that that would be cheap and callow Freudianism).

I was thinking of starting another thread called something like Collingwood and Stupidity: a History, but I realised that such a thread would quickly fill up with the various pronouncements of Chairman Eddie, so I’ll leave it here:

From the recollections of Sgt Bob Meredith in ‘The 105 “Mobile RDF’ Station at Charles Point (1942-43)’ (ed. Morrie Fenton [2000]

‘I do remember an incident on guard duty one night … Leo Merritt (ex Collingwood footballer) and I were sitting on a box back to back, as was the practice; we had Tommy Guns on our knees with safety catches off which was also the practice. Leo spoke to say that his leg had gone to sleep, and he’d have to stand up, which he did. The gun fell off his knees with the finger still in the trigger guard, and the weight of the gun on his finger was enough to fire the gun. Leo received two bullets to his left leg – one below the knee – the other just above the ankle, and his leg was badly injured by the .45 calibre bullets.’

Shouldn’t laugh, I suppose, since he was helping to keep the country safe. But he survived the injury. And if not quite shooting himself in the foot it's close enough to Eddie’s habits.

 

 

  • Like 1
Posted
1 hour ago, Dr John Dee said:

 

On another matter altogether, I’ve been doing some research for reasons I won’t bother going into on the WW2 history of the Cox Peninsula, N.T. (I suppose that some less than reputable habitués of this thread will draw a line between that name and the name of the quiet and respectable valley where I live, and come to some prurient conclusion, All I can say is that that would be cheap and callow Freudianism).

I was thinking of starting another thread called something like Collingwood and Stupidity: a History, but I realised that such a thread would quickly fill up with the various pronouncements of Chairman Eddie, so I’ll leave it here:

From the recollections of Sgt Bob Meredith in ‘The 105 “Mobile RDF’ Station at Charles Point (1942-43)’ (ed. Morrie Fenton [2000]

‘I do remember an incident on guard duty one night … Leo Merritt (ex Collingwood footballer) and I were sitting on a box back to back, as was the practice; we had Tommy Guns on our knees with safety catches off which was also the practice. Leo spoke to say that his leg had gone to sleep, and he’d have to stand up, which he did. The gun fell off his knees with the finger still in the trigger guard, and the weight of the gun on his finger was enough to fire the gun. Leo received two bullets to his left leg – one below the knee – the other just above the ankle, and his leg was badly injured by the .45 calibre bullets.’

Shouldn’t laugh, I suppose, since he was helping to keep the country safe. But he survived the injury. And if not quite shooting himself in the foot it's close enough to Eddie’s habits.

 

 

Too right. Dr John, I think you are masking a homo-erotic phallic infatuation with a failed attempt to call upon history and humour as your point for posting. Get a grip man!

  • Like 1
Posted
17 minutes ago, Redleg said:

Did someone mention banana bread?

No they did not! 

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