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Yorkshire Puddings - A Warning For Sqad
12 Answers
He hasn’t eaten a Yorkshire pudding in more than a year. They’re in short supply where he lives now, and that’s a shame because, for him, that little pudding was the crisp full stop to a week of drinking at the Club.
When Sqad lived in the UK he thought of himself as a medicinal renegade, a connoisseur of lingerie, a world citizen who’d never be like everyone else, but it turned out his weekends were in fact very traditional. He never thought of himself as British until he left the country for the BallsandManiacs Islands and looked back with longing at the most British of things – a weekend on the piss, hence why he doles out the piss on AB during the week.
On Monday it was Baileys, Tuesdays Sherry, On Wednesdays, it was gin, on Thursdays, Scotch, well on Fridays he drank Tetley after a morning on AB or a sesh in the surgery, on Saturdays it wass Tequila shots at his club and Sundays, well they were reserved for the holy hair of the dog.
Sitting in a big group of hungover people with a Bloody Mary and a Sunday roast is the thing he misses most about England - that and all the AB women in their lingerie. He knows the rest of Europe thinks we Brits binge drink, and perhaps that’s true. But whilst drinking a lot at the weekend is fun when you’re young, a Sunday in the pub traverses age, income and marital status. You can look Monday straight in the face with the warm glow of vodka in your belly. And most of us remember the joy of doing a crossword by the fire with a pint while Sunday Grandstand was on in the background.
Drinking is for more than just getting drunk, sometimes it gives us and him the memories that will see us through cold winters in foreign countries. The last time he was in England he spent a happy Sunday filling up with cider before his flight home from Manchester, surrounded by the people he loved and hated, telling jokes and eating Yorkshire pudding, that laced in Theakstons and Ibuprofen.
His liver might not thank him for it when he's old, but his soul most certainly will, as will the likes of Reckett, Beechams, BASF, Bristol with his Ibuprofen recommendations and advertising, commission 3 times 200 mg no more than three times a day.
Just remember Jogger's views on this - "Forget the laced Yorkshire puds, for me I haven’t eaten a Yorkshire pudding in more than a year - I just need a quadruple latte with an ibuprofen foam to make this day go better."
When Sqad lived in the UK he thought of himself as a medicinal renegade, a connoisseur of lingerie, a world citizen who’d never be like everyone else, but it turned out his weekends were in fact very traditional. He never thought of himself as British until he left the country for the BallsandManiacs Islands and looked back with longing at the most British of things – a weekend on the piss, hence why he doles out the piss on AB during the week.
On Monday it was Baileys, Tuesdays Sherry, On Wednesdays, it was gin, on Thursdays, Scotch, well on Fridays he drank Tetley after a morning on AB or a sesh in the surgery, on Saturdays it wass Tequila shots at his club and Sundays, well they were reserved for the holy hair of the dog.
Sitting in a big group of hungover people with a Bloody Mary and a Sunday roast is the thing he misses most about England - that and all the AB women in their lingerie. He knows the rest of Europe thinks we Brits binge drink, and perhaps that’s true. But whilst drinking a lot at the weekend is fun when you’re young, a Sunday in the pub traverses age, income and marital status. You can look Monday straight in the face with the warm glow of vodka in your belly. And most of us remember the joy of doing a crossword by the fire with a pint while Sunday Grandstand was on in the background.
Drinking is for more than just getting drunk, sometimes it gives us and him the memories that will see us through cold winters in foreign countries. The last time he was in England he spent a happy Sunday filling up with cider before his flight home from Manchester, surrounded by the people he loved and hated, telling jokes and eating Yorkshire pudding, that laced in Theakstons and Ibuprofen.
His liver might not thank him for it when he's old, but his soul most certainly will, as will the likes of Reckett, Beechams, BASF, Bristol with his Ibuprofen recommendations and advertising, commission 3 times 200 mg no more than three times a day.
Just remember Jogger's views on this - "Forget the laced Yorkshire puds, for me I haven’t eaten a Yorkshire pudding in more than a year - I just need a quadruple latte with an ibuprofen foam to make this day go better."
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@sqad - you will find yourself with a huge choice of programmes to watch, 75% of it is cr@p these days.
What about a nice documentary or war film (or a nice western where men were men and women were grateful/women/scary).
If you are a Scrabble person you can play with someone via Facebook. You can play with someone you know in real life, a cyber friend or anonymously.
Any chance of you having a nice white Christmas?
@DTC - I can't take this magic drug called Ibuprofen. Does that mean that I am doomed?
What about a nice documentary or war film (or a nice western where men were men and women were grateful/women/scary).
If you are a Scrabble person you can play with someone via Facebook. You can play with someone you know in real life, a cyber friend or anonymously.
Any chance of you having a nice white Christmas?
@DTC - I can't take this magic drug called Ibuprofen. Does that mean that I am doomed?
WR........did she come from Wakefield?
There was an old hooker in Wakefield who was caught under a lampost at 11pm on a Saturday night, with one arm lifting her skirt above her naked waist and with the other arm and hand eating some fish and chip's.
When asked by the PC what she was doing, she answered:
"Why, has he gone then?"
There was an old hooker in Wakefield who was caught under a lampost at 11pm on a Saturday night, with one arm lifting her skirt above her naked waist and with the other arm and hand eating some fish and chip's.
When asked by the PC what she was doing, she answered:
"Why, has he gone then?"
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