Slave to the Grave

Well, it looks like I've been allowed in: Team Slave to the Grave Jimmy Osmond Charles Azenavour Eve Arnold Liliane Bettencourt Gérard Depardieu George H.W. Bush Bobby Bland Jimmy Greaves David Hasselhoff Johnny Hallyday Meatloaf Michael Foot Elizabeth Taylor Jean-Paul Belmondo Laurent Fignon Alan Osmond Eugene Terreblanche Margaret Thatcher Jean-Marie Le Pen Adam Ant

I haven't had confirmation for my dragged together at the last minute team either, carefully assembled whilst cooking dinner and playing Raving Rabbids with the children.

Live dangerously, RA. Try it my way. Throwing darts at a list on the wall is a good way to a) release some aggression, improve your hand to eye coordination, and c) not get a single hit in the coming year. Getting the dog to pick chocolate buttons with initials carved on them from a hat always worked for me. Rodney the lurcher was best at it because he had a very long snout. Is 'snout' a decent way to say 'penis'? Maybe it should be:

Live dangerously, RA. Try it my way. Throwing darts at a list on the wall is a good way to a) release some aggression, improve your hand to eye coordination, and c) not get a single hit in the coming year. Getting the dog to pick chocolate buttons with initials carved on them from a hat always worked for me. Rodney the lurcher was best at it because he had a very long snout.

It appears that the family is afflicted with a congenital heart defect which only came to light when Jimmy had a stroke a few years ago. See here "However, Jimmy is not the only one in his family to have suffered from heart problems. His mother Olive died in 2004 at the age of 79 from a massive stroke and his doctor now believes an undiagnosed hole in the heart could have caused this. As the defect was likely to be genetic, his eight siblings, his children, nephews and nieces were tested. It turned out that three of Jimmy's brothers - they prefer to keep their identity private - plus two of his nephews and his own daughter, Bella, were found to be suffering from the same condition" says the Daily Mail. Add to this Jimmy's propensity to lard up at the mere sight of food...........

Well at least I made the poll!!................................big nose.

But that's like saying good Spanish vodka. Different words obviously. Bless.

Godot, at the Leeds Odeon, circa 1967. I'm not that old. I also had, er....a mullet. But yes I remember having 4ins stack heels two-toned shoes, panda collars, tank tops, Oxford bags and an RAF great coat - for a little while. My era was Slade, Sweet, Quo, Wishbone Ash, Yes, Curved Air, Led Zep, Rory Gallagher, oh and Roxy Music who crossed the divide between glam rock and progressive rock. Fashion went a little but like American cars did in the 1950s - over the top. But not in the clothes catalogues. Ah clumpy shoes.

Which raises the question, what ever happened with SttG and her dead lurcher problem from the summer of 2006? Did it get resolved? There are no answers on this thread now (if there ever were) I was wondering why my ears were burning!! Alas, Rodney is still underneath the shrubbery.

Can someone come up with an embarrassed smiley please

Luckily I didn't have to test the weewee receptacle but I pity the poor woman who was given it for legitimate purposes afterwards. DttG was actually a bit of a star and took charge of the situation as the goodfornothing midwife was too busy hiding in the kitchen scoffing baked potatoes.

I sympathise. My life is a perpetual flat pack nightmare. The latest aquisition is a sort of plastic greenhouse thingy, I put it all together quite succesfully and then discovered some left over bits which turned out to be some strut type devices which stop it turning into a parallelogram (sp?) instead of a rectangle. I have to make another one tomorrow because I have to prick out my lettuces and I need space to put the pots.

No, anaesthetic is lovely but Entonox is about as much use as a Junior Disprin. Apparently it's much better if you have a cigarette immediately after having a good few lugs of it but I couldn't test that theory at the time. I rather liked Entonox, it made me giggle, DttG tried it too and as a consequence did an ill advised tour of the labour ward with a papier mache weewee receptacle on his head (they do look a bit like cowboy hats). No use when things got serious though.

I wondered where it came from, it's been there so long now, it's sort of become part of the furniture.

Hope you're better soon NAP. I had mine out a couple of years ago, it had burst violently and taken a couple of other body parts out in the process. I agree with Bou, the going under was fantastic, the coming around again I didn't care for because there was pain and then there was morphine which made it all alright again. Being woozy with the morphine and having been left to my own devices and hungry, I ate an apple that someone had left on my bedside table. Whatever you do , don't eat an apple, the resulting gas build up was terrifying, extremely painful and then it has to come out. ' Laisse le sortir' (let it leave) said the old lady in the next bed, but I couldn't because I felt inhibited by her large circle of visitors who were settling in for the day. So I hauled myself out of bed and dragged myself into the bathroom where I 'let it leave' for about 10 minutes, laughing aloud with the sheer relief of it all. It wasn't until I got back into bed and one of the visitors used the loo that I realised every single sound was audible through the paper thin walls.

Now I don't have a job, I had time to bake you a cake Happy Birthday

I'm a bit fed up with Kate Moss telling me to 'get the London look'.

That's a relief, because I sent piss stained phone boxes to all my friends by mistake.

Whilst we're on the subject of drivers - VSPs (vehicules sans permits - cars which you don't need a licence to drive), lawnmowers driven by drunk old men in berets at 10 kph.

Giving up being an estate agent (tossers) and drinking a bottle of bubbly to celebrate (see room 101 in the morning when hangover and impending financial ruin hit home), but for now wooooohooooo!!!!.

I sent Clive Dunn to everyone, but only H seems to have received him. (I think Bou was behind it - bravo!!)

Irrational, histrionic, vengeful bosses, who make you ruin your Sunday by dreading Monday.