- Feb 1, 2005
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I'm in a better mood than I usually am when faced with this thread. Perhaps it's because we finally culled the mingeplants but it's probably the medication finally kicking in.
A HUGE THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO DONATED YESTERDAY. We raised a smidgin over £500. Another day like that and we're covered until January. Thanks guys, it really is appreciated.
I was sat by the pool yesterday afternoon when my boss called demanding to know where the fuck I was. I told him I was by the pool with my mate Dave and was on my 4th can of lager. He went ballstic 'I don't fucking believe you' he ranted. 'Hold on then' I replied and held the phone out towards Dave, 'Dave, isn't this my 4th can?'.........
This week I bought my wife some make-up for her birthday. She looked at it and said. "This has been tested on animals."
"That's why I bought it," I said. "What for?" she replied. "Well if it can make a monkey look good, then maybe you have a chance."
Anyone else ever suffered that awkward moment when the woman you're dancing behind bends over so you can grind it, then you realise she just lost an earring... and that no one else in Starbucks can hear your iPod? No? Just me then..........
I also hear that Supermarkets are running out of sandwiches, fruits and desserts. Apparently because dyslexics are picnic buying.
OK, just for the hell of it, here's something I knocked up about Harry and the England job last year. It ismn't an invitation to start filling the thread about him, it's just for jollies. Hopefully you'll like it.
THE ENGLAND JOB AND WHEN HARRY MET SHALLY
The dust had barely settled as Fabio Capello’s chariot sped out of London before Harry was being touted as the man to replace him. What a lot of people don’t know is that Harry made his mind up that very same night. Or had it made up for him.
At the exact moment Capello’s departure was announced, in a dimly lit East End cafe a gathering took place of some high profile football figures. Well, I call it a gathering it was more like a poker school.
Harry sat looking at his cards, to his left sat the Dildo brothers, Gold & Sullivan, next around the table was Arsene Wenger and the table was completed by Martin Jol and Roy Hodgson.
Arsene Wenger had long ago given up trying to read Harry’s twitch, it seemed to give nothing away and he was buggered if he knew how to play the game anyway. He only took part so that he came across as one of the ‘lads’. He’d far rather be sat at home enjoying a glass of fine wine whilst leafing through his collection of 12th century pornographic etchings. ‘I fold’ he said as he slapped his cards down on the table.
David Sullivan laughed. ‘We never made our money by folding did we David?”
David Gold laughed “No David, we made our money selling buttplugs”
‘Cut the banter boys, how many cards do you want?’ said Roy Hodgson. Arsene Wengers ears pricked up on hearing the word ‘boys’.
Suddenly the phone rang. Mustapha, the owner of the café, picked up and answered. A burst of excited Turkish followed and he replaced the receiver. ‘hey lads, lads….you’re not going to believe this but Capello has resigned’
Martin Jol laughed ‘That’ll put the cat amongst the pitjens for shore’ he said in that lovable thick Dutch accent of his. Roy Hodgson sat silently in contemplation as his eyes flickered over to Harry then to his cards and back to Harry again.
‘Who do you think will get the job?’ asked Wenger, ‘it isn’t of interest to me’ he continued ‘but the press love you Harry.’
At that moment David Sullivans phone rang. ‘Yeah, OK, come over’ he said and ended the call. ‘Nothing important lads, just some tart I know, wants to make it in films if you know what I mean’ he said as he winked and nudged David Gold.
Ten minutes later the door opened and this absolutely stunning bird walked in. Think a cross between Kelly Brook and Selma Hayek. Harry Redknapp’s tongue fell out of his mouth and rolled down his face like a carpet unraveling.
David Gold said ‘gentlemen, meet Sally’.
Harry was transfixed. Roy Hodgson’s eyes were flicking between Harry and Sally, BMJ shifted to the left as his boner grew and Wenger sat there uninterested, counting his poker chips as the Dildo brothers looked on laughing.
Sally asked where she could powder her nose. BMJ grinned and pointed at his navel as Sally entered the ladies room.
‘OK’ said David Sullivan ‘we’ve got an idea how to make a killing on the next England manager, its obviously going to be Harry and the price is going to be shit. Harry, would you take the job if it was offered?’
Harry looked up and put his tongue away. ‘Not half me old china’ and his face twitched thrice, a sure sign he was sincere.
‘How about you Woy?’ Said Gold
‘Fuck off with that Woy business’ said Hodgson. ‘Yeah I’d like to give it a go’
David Sullivan put down his laptop. ‘Harry is odds on Roy is 6/1’
David Gold smiled. ‘Harry, we’ll give you a cut if you turn the job down’
‘No fucking way’ said Harry. ‘No chance, dream job, honour, couldn’t turn it down’
‘Yeah yeah’, said Gold ‘What’ll it take? Are we talking Rosie 47 here or what?’
BMJ said ‘I’ve got an idea…….Look at his face, he fancies that bird, Shall he’
Wenger asked who Sally was. 'The bird who just came in' said Sullivan. Wenger smiled, those shifty eyes of his glistening above his hawk like beak 'I didn't see it'. Everyone groaned.
‘Shally, Shally’ shouted BMJ. Harry couldn’t deny it as she walked back into the room.Harry looked at BMJ. 'You fat ****'.............. ‘OK OK I’ll pass on the job for a night with her’
Sally walked over to Harry, took him by the arm and led him out the door and into a waiting car.
‘The Dildo brothers smiled as they placed their bets. BMJ and Roy had a slice of the action too and even Arsene Wenger had a small flutter. So for several weeks every time Harry and the England job was mentioned only a small number of people knew the truth. All they had to do was feed the speculation for a while and increase their wagers every time the odds went up.
In due course the FA approached Harry, who turned the job down leaving the FA nowhere else to turn. And that is how Roy Hodgson got the England job.
Contrary to popular belief Harry does learn a lesson and is currently rotating between Sandra and Sally. He is tactically astute as he is playing it smart, Sandra has no idea and he can keep his gob shut in front of a microphone because the press have no idea. Until now
And finally...............My wife was getting undressed to come to bed last night and said "I forgot to tell you Angela found out on her 40th Birthday that Dave has been sleeping with a 19 year old glamour model?"
"That's disgusting" I replied
"Dave is a creep isn't he?" she asked.
"Dave is a lucky bastard" I replied "I was talking about you with no clothes on"
In other news, John Terry is going to his daughters sports day this week. He's wearing his PE kit in case she wins.
Today's word of the day is: Nippleclamps
