harrymcnallysblueandwhitearmy

Here's one from b3ta that captures the true spirit of Britain.

Betting to win and place on the same horse. Correct, so in this case the win bet is obviously void but the place bet is a winner, at either (depending on the type of race and the bookie you back with) a quarter or a fifth odds. Anyway, it won't be paying for a holiday for the despicable Mr Shanks, but he does still have a shirt on his back.

This'll make him die laughing: Three women are about to be executed. One's a brunette, one's a redhead, and one's a blonde. The guard brings the brunette forward and the executioner asks if she has any last requests. She says no and the executioner shouts, "Ready!...Aim!! ..." Suddenly the brunette yells, "EARTHQUAKE!!!" Everyone is startled and looks around. She escapes. The guard brings the redhead forward and the executioner asks if she has any last requests. She say no and the executioner shouts, "Ready! ... Aim!!..." Suddenly the redhead yells, "TORNADO!!!" Everyone is startled and looks around. She escapes. By now the blonde has it all figured out. The guard brings her forward and the executioner asks if she has any last requests. She says no and the executioner shouts, Ready! ... Aim!! ..." ...and the blonde yells, "FIRE!!!" or even... Once upon a time there lived three men: a doctor, a chemist, and an engineer. For some reason all three offended the king and were sentenced to die on the same day. The day of the execution arrived, and the doctor was led up to the guillotine. As he strapped the doctor to the guillotine, the executioner asked, "Head up or head down?" "Head up," said the doctor. "Blindfold or no blindfold?" "No blindfold." So the executioner raised the axe, and z-z-z-z-ing! Down came the blade--and stopped barely an inch above the doctor's neck. Well, the law stated that if an execution didn't succeed the first time the prisoner had to be released, so the doctor was set free. Then the chemist was led up to the guillotine. "Head up or head down?" said the executioner. "Head up." "Blindfold or no blindfold?" "No blindfold." So the executioner raised his axe, and z-z-z-z-ing! Down came the blade--and stopped an inch above the chemist's neck. Well, the law stated that if the execution didn't succeed the first time the prisoner had to be released, so the chemist was set free. Finally the engineer was led up to the guillotine. "Head up or head down?" "Head up." "Blindfold or no blindfold?" "No blindfold." So the executioner raised his axe, but before he could cut the rope, the engineer yelled out: "WAIT! I see what the problem is!". And last but not least... Q: What was Saddam's last word? A: Shiiiite

Ditto.

Went to see the Joe Strummer film. I doubt if it’ll make a Clash convert out of non-believers (like me) and it’s about half an hour too long thanks to Julien Temple’s general ar(t)sing around, but you can’t fail to be impressed by the bloke’s sincerity (he means, it maan), his patent loathing of the Biz that ensnared him and his all-around questingness for something more out of life than just fulfilling the style-over-substance parody those sacred Westway cows became. Guess he never quite got over the public school thing, and also ended up with the weirdest pseudo-transatlantic-hippy accent, but I tip the hat to him all the same. This is a much better rockumentary, however. Hey ho...

Seems to me like Shanksy suggested an each way bet on the horse that finished third, which suggests a successful, if not particularly profitable, tip. Would you like me to explain what 'each way' means?

Read summat about this in the paper today, we've only got Sewell's word for it mind, he suggests the camera had no film and that Dali got his rocks off this way. Yes, exactly what it says in the article for which I provided a link.

Since there doesn't appear to be one entitled Art Critics Wanking Alongside Statues of Christ While Being Filmed by Ridiculously-Moustachioed Surrealists, I guess this would be as good a thread as any in which to point out a potentially interesting documentary on Channel 4 tomorrow night.

Good evening Ladies and Gents, Delightful to be back with you all again (and thanks to Mr McNally for the continued use of his good name). Ah, to be at Epsom on Derby Day, the sun beaming down and Shanksy here perusing all those lovely fillies in the paddock... and a good few of the horses are in tiptop condition too, I'll wager. Boom boom, as they say! Well, the Italian Stallion, Mr Dettori, is on the hot favourite Authorized, but as the little chap's failed in all 14 attempts to win the Derby, Armitage is looking elsewhere and there's a bit of value in Aqaleem at around 8/1 e/w, from the stable that produced last year's winner, Sir Percy (bless him, paid for a nice little trip to Naples for myself and Mrs S). Anyway, won't take up any more of your time, I'm off to the garage to give the Bugatti a once-over before tomorrow - simply wouldn't do to be conking out somewhere between Arundel and the track, eh. Splendid, cheerio you lovely people, and remember... COME RACING!!!

That one-off Rod medley in full, then: If the Kids are United Communication Breakdown Fade to Grey Up on the Roof Fiddler on the Roof (possibly) Something's Gotta Hold of My Heart Slip Slidin' Away I'll Tumble 4 Ya I Believe I Can Fly I'm Like a Bird Freefallin' I Love the Sound of Breaking Glass Hit the Road, Jack

With a brief snippet of 'I Love the Sound of Breaking Glass' in between.

A big shout out to the scuzzybear on his birthday... ...and a slightly smaller one to Star Crossed on his, er, Official Birthday

I wonder how many abortions have stopped play in sports sorry, this thread was getting me all confused there.

The winter ski season last year in the alps... According to Armitage Shanks, the setting sun at Cheltenham quite often either delays racing or they have to omit the last two fences, as apparently nags don't jump so well when faced with a blazing sun It's far from the first time that sun has stopped play at Derbyshire's cricket ground, by the way. Who says it's grim up north...

Make that three. I grew up there too. Did you know the Wests? Mercifully not, but I probably sold them a copy of Cellar Decorating and Soundproofing for Beginners at the bookshop where I worked.

Make that three. I grew up there too.

I guessed pretty early on you were talking about a thread. Then you mentioned it to be extremely long so I am guessing it is this Dicky thread everyone talks about. I must salute you for having the courage patience and time to read that. As a newishcomer here I have always wondered what is so fascinating about that thread but could never be arsed to do the legwork or should that be eyework. Maybe here is my chance to find out. Belgium has not driven me to such depths of boredom and despair (yet) to delve into it myself but if I ask nicely would you care to write an abridged version in less than a few lines (or words preferably)? Thanks very much for your polite enquiry Mono, but it would be easier to write an abridged-in-a-few-lines version of the Bible (hmm, actually a lot easier) than try to condense the surreal brilliance of the Dickie O thread (although strangely enough, some on here might disagree with that last statement). All I can say is, give it a go, as it is at least a seven-times greater work of literature than all the other books mentioned on this thread put together. Is it not, MPFC/Pooka/all other featured characters? In fact, it should be compulsory reading for anyone moving above the status of Pointless Ranter on the forum. Just don't try it all in one go.

I have just finished a literary epic I think some of you good folk may be interested in. It’s set in a nebulous netherworld from 2003 to the present day and might best be described as a long day’s journey into the glowing embers of a collective psyche while simultaneously holding up a crack’d mirror reflecting universal concerns of illness, madness, celebrity and even, yes, death. Already I’m aware that my inadequate journalistic abilities are unable to do such an opus true justice. It begins with a Question posed by an enigmatic figure, perhaps analagous to the three witches in Macbeth, and one who appears infrequently in the narrative after he has, as it were, lighted the guns then ran off home for his tea. His question is immediately pondered upon and debated by a series of diverse characters, possibly 40 or 50 in total, most of whom are clearly seeking some higher truth or summat, though others quite clearly and bluntly mock their quest, often using the foulest of language. There is vitriol, spite, anger and threats of violence throughout this spiritual jousting, which is never truly resolved throughout the book’s 125 long, f*****g interminable, pages. Characters come and go, often with little logic or ceremony (some appear to have disappeared for ever into the ether), and at times the narrative thread gets woven into such convoluted knots one wonders if the participants have lost sight of the true meaning of the original Question, as well as their own sanity (particularly one titled lady who appears around page 93 and sends many other characters into paroxysms of apoplexy). But there is also much bravura wit and intelligence on show, with belly laughs to be had in amongst the staggering philosophical insight and depth. And the truly extraordinary and unique feature of this work is that it appears to be organic, and somehow even unending, maybe eternal. Even as late as the current final page (quite near the top) there appears a new character so original, wise and clever he puts everything that has gone before slightly into the shadows. Who knows how, or indeed if, this tale will end? After such a build-up, I’m afraid I must tell you that the title of this pre-Post(whore)modern-metatextual-semiotic-situationist-twuntist tour de force temporarily escapes me, but I have no doubt that it will be a real stocking-filler come Christmas and I’m sure if you look hard enough you’ll find it for yourself somewhere hereabouts.

Anyway, it'll all be two-wheel related deaths over the next week or so, in that strange lemming-fest they call the Isle of Man TT races. Take care, Handrejka.

Brutal, man, brutal. Having spent the last 5 hours reading this entire thread in a single sitting, do I qualify for some kind of award (Idiot of the Year?) or perhaps some psychiatric help? After some slight dozing at around pages 67-70, I got my second wind until Clarissa/Rebecca/Am I Dead Yet showed up and made the last 25 pages feel akin to a marathon runner hitting 'the wall'. Still, having conquered the DL's Everest, I feel much more at home in this forum now (what has happened to former Dickie O stalwarts such as pulphack, millwall, bennett cerf etc?) and can't wait to get cracking on the f*****g Pope. See you in my nightmares, Mr O'Sullivan, Goodnight all.

Aye, it's all a fix. Just like the Special Olympics

I saw these old biddies on TV tonight - the lead singer didn't even have the decency to learn Pete the paedo's lyrics before launching into a frankly rubbish version of My G-g-generation. Honestly, old people - they demand our respect for just remaining alive, then perform as shoddily as this!!

Is it not this one then? Plenty of rants here: http://www.deathlist.net/forums/index.php?...l=pool%20hunter Ha, ha, that Hoonter thread's a right cracking read. We need something to spark a Ranters Return. When Jane Tomlinson pops her clogs I predict that her thread will become quite lively. In fact I would prognosticate that the tidal wave of bristling moral indignation will cause DeathList to crash for several days. I thought that the Ross Davidson thread was one of the sickest. He caused a lot of frustration for deadpoolers by hanging on way longer than he should have, given that he as suffering from the most dangerous form of brain cancer. I've always regretted posting "I do wish he'd hurry up" on his thread. This and a poster who claimed to know Ross, mocking his fate and making some rather indescrete revelations about his personal life.Not forgetting the fact that the news of his passing was broken on DeathList 12 hours before any other internet source, the poster was the wife of somone who had been asked to play bagpipes at his funeral. I must be in a strange mood tonight, but that last line made me smile out loud Back somewhat on topic, it's lucky this site wasn't around in 1993, otherwise there would have been a George Lineker thread. I dread to think of the rants there'd have been on that one. Not that many folk would have been googling him, I guess. I have a horrible feeling I might even have been involved in his selection, but those were my salad days, when I was green in judgment, cold in blood. And I was also wondering why his age was -3 at the time...?

A DL member (who knows a thing or two about such things ) was at the Wembley playoff final today and reports that the bogs are "of an excellent standard". Unlike Derby County or WBA, from what I saw of the match.

Is it not this one then? Plenty of rants here: http://www.deathlist.net/forums/index.php?...l=pool%20hunter Ha ha, that Hoonter thread's a right cracking read. We need something to spark a Ranters Return.