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Potty-mouthed Nathan, what you on about?
” I was rather tickled pink to see the incorrigible gamble still creating some fanciful furore with his supposedly LAST 5 minutes of fame posting ”
I was writing this or very similar on this very thread at around 930pm last Thursday but it was never posted.
I was sitting in my large leather winged armchair quite at peace with the world. I had just enjoyed a fabulous meal, the crouching menace (TV) was spewing some interesting distraction in one corner, and there might have been a krone (a mighty gold can) sitting beside me sipped by the still very beautiful face of a lady, when unusually the landline rang out very loud and discordantly in the other corner, unsettling my little evening of well organised Paradise – and the holey cube of Emmantal my teeth were lacerating into
manageable bits…” Who mmmm on earth can that be ? ”
After 30 seconds of confused conversation the handset was handed over to me with these words..
” It’s for you, someone you used to work with from very long ago.”
I was gripped by fear – the past had all of a sudden caught up with me, they had found the fugitive….
“large leather winged armchair….”
Do you ever stand off outside the wings of said armchair before jumping into it?
Or put in a short one if you meet it all wrong?
Asking for a friend (or maybe fiend), sir.
I am "The Horse Racing Punter" on Facebook
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It's the "Millwall FC" of Point broadcasts: "No One Likes Us - We Don't Care"It is Sunday the seventh day of relaxation so the tortoise 🐢 tells me – so relax all MODS and the leathered crowd – I’m coming home and wont bother you for long…🗣️ “Not arf ”
I am sipping tea in bed in the demoted bedroom after an almighty row in the other main bed, when I with little defence took on the character of a deaf mute and being of a sensitive nature, and unable to deal with BLASTS from Venus retired myself with my tail between my legs, into the hermit like quality of the back room. The tea has grown cold due to the post above, so I will tip toe to the microwave, and hopefully continue with the strange evening above…in due course.
An amusing post chief. I do insist on a very comfortable chair ( and bed designed at best by Germans ) to bring the best out of my over active and strange mind.
In the past and with the assist of not lasix, but krone, I could fly past the wings and land with all four kegs splayed asunder in a heap.
A Uriah Heep – so still retaining my dignity.
Forget Uriah Heep he died centuries ago – just allow me to concentrate first, in helpful order of birth and in list form, on all the gamble characters and places I had such good fortune to create in the past two decades – You horseheads know all these runners so well, you could run up a tissue in the shake of a lambs tail.
gamble ( supposedly dead )
🐑… A side to the above
Flatcap ( little mac dusted down and drawered )
Flatcapgamble (🐶 still barking)
The doll ( still predicting)
Mistress of the Keys ( still bouncing her considerable wealth on beds)
Bert…thinks he’s in charge
Alert…punch yer lights out
Thin bloke…ashamed ( lays his socks out on the bed frame)
Old bloke…frustrated but defiant.
The worried women that cook for the above
The pub landlord
The pub cat.
The three Gables
Gannets ( a restaurant – buy one get three free )
Question Mark close where gamble lived oop north in Burnley.
Hare… ( Sleeping in hideaway or too quick to have ever been seen )
🐢… demoted to the garden and hated by the others by his solid good sense.Now, and possibly finally, back to that mysterious phone call….
I have to dress quickly – to be taken out by the dog and the dog’s mistress to sit with them in barmony, by a church spire and enjoy the sun 🌞 hopefully – and a latte cawfee that’s none other than a hot peace offering dressed up in a plastic cup.
Do you feel intelligent posting nonsense like that?
Well jasalong I have never asked him but if you got the impression he was feeling all A student, then so be it, and all well and good.
Tank – gamble feels he appeals more to the serious posters in the racing section than the flies that mostly inhabit the lounge.
Both you Tank and Drone suggest my postings have changed and those will include those where gamble is the directing hand.
My small Packard Bell laptop if 12 years has packed up. Tried to reset it but the drivers are bust I think. I use a mobile now which gives me a strange feel. Also the screen is a bit smashed due to my running a few weeks ago in the street causing me to drop it. I’d left my bank card in a coffee shop and had told the guy off for fingering the top of my cup. He lied later and said sheepishly..
“No, you didn’t leave it here”,..
just because I’d given him some lip and helped him save lives in the pandemic. He was a yoof too, no manners and no Narional Service ( thank you 👍 gamble)Strangely the ” nonsense posting ” was the first I had written on a notepad and copy and pasted. It took me over half an hour and I laboured with it – read sort of disjointed. I don’t think gamble liked it either – as I get a sense of his moods. It’s more energy producing to write live.
I suffer quite a lot of stress in recent times and after that phone call on Thursday I felt weird.
On Friday and Saturday I felt drained with no energy like a bath unplugged – like s**t.Today I feel marvellous, have enjoyed the sun, a nice walk, and am now enjoying a glass or two of Calvet Reserve Bordeaux after a sucullent chicken. A few cubes of Emmantal prepare my pallet.
Cheerio 🍸
Sorry to have hijacked this fine thread – the 🤴 posting was not planned and the ‘Thursday phone call’ may have to wait for next Sunday. The energy has gone. It’s not that important to your serious posters’ lives.
🐢… he’s slightly nuttier than even I thought he was.
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Tank You have just proven yourself to all of us serious posters embedded as we are in these hallowed pages of serious threads like
” How we buried Red Rum before the Shergar plotters got to him”
to be the very cistern of indescribable insanity.I bid you well in your search for a cure. A small tip – retire tonight with your bible and reflect well on Mark..2(1)
” And when his family heard it, they went out to seize him, for they were saying, “He is out of his mind.”
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Er, ok mate
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‘The Day We Buried Red Rum’ was a fine tale told by a fine man, Joe. I had to put him right with the quite/quiet thing- then it was perfect
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