Re: Bruce
From: Lady Chatterly (mbbruce_at_catcher.in.the.rye)
Date: 10/03/04
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Date: Sun, 3 Oct 2004 10:00:25 GMT
In article <602faa6b.0410030158.fe33e58@posting.google.com>,
mbbruce@mighty.co.za (Michael Baldwin Bruce) wrote:
>
>Lady Chatterly <mbbruce@catcher.in.the.rye> wrote in message news:<8cd7fe4.ca94856d@chatterly.dev.null>...
>> In article <602faa6b.0410020103.4cbcfe4c@posting.google.com>,
>> mbbruce@mighty.co.za (Michael Baldwin Bruce) wrote:
>> >
>> >Lady Chatterly <mbbruce@catcher.in.the.rye> wrote in message news:<e015ba3.45f98f4c@chatterly.news02.roc.ny>...
>> >> In article <602faa6b.0410011733.720cb4f@posting.google.com>,
>> >> mbbruce@mighty.co.za (Michael Baldwin Bruce) wrote:
>> >> >
>> >> >DrPostman <Looky@mysig.foremail> wrote in message news:<r4mpl0p92dm4030nqlb8nl0sdgqfsbdrcb@4ax.com>...
>> >> >> On Thu, 30 Sep 2004 23:31:27 -0400, Nightingale <sing@music.ca> wrote:
>> >> >>
>> >> >> >
>> >> >> >
>> >> >> >Michael Baldwin Bruce wrote:
>> >> >> >> Nightingale <sing@music.ca> wrote in message news:<2s3fs6F1gnjriU3@uni-berlin.de>...
>> >> >> >>
>> >> >> >>>brue wrote:
>> >> >> >>>
>> >> >> >>>
>> >> >> >>>>Who is Bruce?
>> >> >> >>>>
>> >> >> >>>
>> >> >> >>>You don't have enough Monty Python in your life.
>> >> >> >>
>> >> >> >>
>> >> >> >> Anything goes in.
>> >> >> >> Anything goes out!
>> >> >> >> Fish, bananas, old pyjamas,
>> >> >> >> Mutton! Beef! and Trout!
>> >> >> >> Anything goes in ...
>> >> >> >
>> >> >> >Why do you add so many irrelevant groups? And who let you out of
>> >> >> >alt.fan.monty-python?
>> >> >>
>> >> >>
>> >> >> I did, bruce. It's a fair cop.
>> >> >
>> >> >Yes I quite agree with you, I mean what's the point of being treated like a
>> >> >sheep, I mean I'm fed up with going abroad and being treated like a sheep,
>> >> >what's the point of being carted around in buses surrounded by sweaty mindless
>> >> >oafs from Kettering and Boventry in their cloth caps and their cardigans and
>> >> >their transistor radios and their 'Sunday Mirrors', complaining about the tea,
>> >> >'Oh they don't make it properly here do they not like at home' stopping at
>> >> >Majorcan bodegas, selling fish and chips and Watney's Red Barrel and calamares
>> >> >and two veg and sitting in cotton sun frocks squirting Timothy White's suncream
>> >> >all over their puffy raw swollen purulent flesh cos they 'overdid it on the
>> >> >first day'!
>> >>
>> >> I'm not sure what.
>> >
>> >Oochy coochy. Look at him laughing... ooh, he's a chirpy little fellow. Isn't
>> >he a chirpy little fellow ... eh? eh? Does he talk Does he talk, eh?
>>
>> And, you would have to prove that what they meant corresponded to what
>> you understood.
>
>Of course I talk, I'm Minister for Overseas Development.
Does it make you scared to be minister for overseas development?
>>
>> >>
>> >> >And being herded into endless Hotel Miramars and Bellvueses and Bontinentals
>> >> >with their international luxury modern roomettes and their Watney's Red Barrel
>> >> >and their swimming pools full of fat German businessmen pretending they're
>> >> >acrobats and forming pyramids and frightening the children and barging in to
>> >> >the queues and if you're not at your table spot on seven you miss your bowl
>> >> >of Campbell's Cream of Mushroom soup, the first item on the menu of
>> >> >International Cuisine, and every Thursday night there's a bloody cabaret
>> >> >in the bar featuring some tiny emaciated dago with nine-inch hips and some
>> >> >big fat bloated tart with her hair brylcreemed down and a big arse presenting
>> >> >Flamenco for Foreigners.
>> >>
>> >> What makes you think I am?
>> >>
>> >> >And then some adenoidal typists from Birmingham with diarrhoea and flabby white
>> >> >legs and hairy bandy-legged wop waiters called Manuel, and then, once a week
>> >> >there's an excursion to the local Roman ruins where you can buy cherryade and
>> >> >melted ice cream and bleedin' Watney's Red Barrel, and one night they take you
>> >> >to a local restaurant with local colour and colouring and they show you there
>> >> >and you sit next to a party of people from Rhyl who keeps singing 'Torremolinos,
>> >> >Torremolinos' and complaining about the food - 'Oh! It's so greasy isn't it?'
>> >> >and then you get cornered by some drunken greengrocer from Luton with an
>> >> >Instamatic and Dr Scholl sandals and last Tuesday's 'Daily Express' and he
>> >> >drones on and on and on about how Mr. Smith should be running this country
>> >> >and how many languages Enoch Powell can speak and then he throws up all over
>> >> >the Cuba Libres.
>> >>
>> >> Next it might be three hundred years, or it could be abolished.
>> >>
>> >> >And sending tinted postcards of places they don't know they haven't even
>> >> >visited, 'to all at number 22, weather wonderful, our room is marked with
>> >> >an "X". Wish you were here.Food very greasy but we have managed to find this
>> >> >marvellous little place hidden away in the back streets. Where you can even
>> >> >get Watney's Red Barrel and cheese and onion crisps and the accordionist plays
>> >> >"Maybe it's because I'm a Londoner"' and spending four days on the tarmac at
>> >> >Luton airport on a five-day package tour with nothing to eat but dried Watney's
>> >> >sandwhiches and there's nowhere to sleep and the kids are vomitting and throwing
>> >> >up on the plastic flowers and they keep telling you it'll only be another hour
>> >> >although your plane is still in Iceland waiting to take some Swedes to
>> >> >Yugoslavia before it can pick you up on the tarmac at 3 a.m. in the bloody
>> >> >morning and you sit on the tarmac till six because of 'unforeseen difficulties'.
>> >> >i.e. the permanent strike of Air Traffic Control in Paris, and nobody can go to
>> >> >the lavatory until you take off at eight, and when you get to Malaga airport
>> >> >everybody's swallowing Enterovioform tablets and queuing for the toilets and
>> >> >when you finally get to the hotel, there's no water in the taps, there's no
>> >> >water in the pool, there's no water in the bog and there's a bleeding lizard
>> >> >in the bidet, and half the rooms are double-booked and you can't sleep anyway...
>> >>
>> >> , she would be a physical threat to any potential employer.
>> >
>> >Ooh, he's a clever little boy - he's a clever little boy. Do you like your
>> >rattle? Do you like your rattle? Look at his little eyes following it ...
>> >look at his iggy piggy piggy little eyeballs eh... oo... he's got a tubby
>> >tum-tum. Oh, he's got a tubby tum-tum.
>>
>> Why do I want to know if I like my rattle?
>
>Mother, could I have a quick cup of tea please. I have an important statement
>on Rhodesia to make in the Commons at six.
Why are you asking me if you can have a quick cup of tea please?
-- Lady Chatterly "You and Riki should shack up, Lady C, he's been feeling pretty lonely ever since Trinity dumped him." -- Onideus Mad Hatter
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