<BLOCKQUOTE><font size="1" face="verdana">quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by Dubya Dubya 2: One of those places you stop at whilst on the way to somewhere else...normally Scotland!<HR></BLOCKQUOTE> You cant go past Barrow, it's on the south tip of the furness peninsular, the only people who go to Barrow are people who are going to Barrow, go any further and you're in the irish sea.
<BLOCKQUOTE><font size="1" face="verdana">quote Aha! Unless I was making my way to Walney Island that is, but I am assuming there's fuck all there of interest? Congrats on the 666 acquisition!
Well Walney Island is part of Barrow, thats actualy where I lived. But no, there's fuck all of interest there.
<BLOCKQUOTE><font size="1" face="verdana">quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by tommy710: but pimp and nursey its a lot closer to you than you dare even imagine,but dont worry i wont be coming round for tea and biscuits.<HR></BLOCKQUOTE> do you ever pay attention tommy?.. nursey lives 300 miles away from me.. i live/work here and go there at the weekends....
Good and bad points about where I live Good:- lots of sheep, and welsh people Bad:- lots of sheep and police we cant have it all can we!!
<BLOCKQUOTE><font size="1" face="verdana">quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by tommy710: i actually live outside of manchester <HR></BLOCKQUOTE> Astley, Greater Manchester each amd everyone of yew are welcome to cum over and take turns eating MY biscuits!
Less so since you left * just realised that was a compliment, fuck me I'm getting soft in my old age *
Chocolate Hob Nobs? <BLOCKQUOTE><font size="1" face="verdana">quote:</font><HR>I'm on another planet She's on the Isle of Thanet. <HR></BLOCKQUOTE>
If you can be arsed to read this, this is pretty much hit the nail on the head even though I hate German Greer... This is what you will find when... if you ever came to Essex... Dunno if they are good or bad... normal to me tho... <BLOCKQUOTE><font size="1" face="verdana">quote:</font><HR>Germaine Greer, "Long live the Essex girl" Guardian, 5 March 2001. The Essex girl is becoming more difficult to spot these days. She used to be conspicuous, as she clacked along the pavements in her white plastic stilettos, her bare legs mottled patriotic red, white and blue with cold, and her big bottom barely covered by her denim miniskirt. Essex girls usually come in twos, both behind pushchairs with large infants in them. Sometimes you hear them before you see them, cackling shrilly or yelling to each other from one end of the street to the other, or berating those infants in blood-curdling fashion. Occasionally they are accompanied by the hangdog sire of their child, more often by a mother, who is simply a 16 or 17 years older version of themselves. All parties bar the infants will have a cigarette going. The Essex girl is tough, loud, vulgar and unashamed. Her hair is badly dyed not because she can't afford a hairdresser, but because she wants it to look brassy. Nobody makes her wear her ankle chain; she likes the message it sends. Nobody laughs harder at an Essex girl joke than she does: she is not ashamed to admit what she puts behind her ears to make her more attractive is her ankles. She is anarchy on stilts; when she and her mates descend upon Southend for a rave, even the bouncers grow pale. Her existence and her style make nonsense of the Labour rhetoric about "social exclusion". She does not see herself as outside society; she sees herself as belonging to the real world of family loyalty, sexual unpredictability, underemployment and petty crime, and the Blairs as pious, condescending and self-deluding. I think she's great. The Essex girl neither knows nor cares that she is the target of the nastiest kind of misogyny. If nerdy men revenge themselves by emailing truly disgusting jokes to Essex girls websites, it's pretty much their problem. It was a great old Essex girl who told GMTV that she "hoped" it was Lisa who shot Phil Mitchell, against hope, alas. Lisa is too whiney and self-pitying to qualify as an Essex girl (or to shoot Phil Mitchell). EastEnders has to take part of the blame for Essex girls going underground because Mel, who is a genuine Essex girl, buys her clothes at Miss Selfridge and looks more like a young executive than a barmaid. Essex girls have no ambition to be pseudo-high-class gangster totty. Any Essex girl with a bosom as unimpressive as Mel's would wear a padded bra. There are few Essex girls in the historic record, partly because Essex has fewer great houses per square mile than any other county in England, and historians are by and large only aware of the inmates of great houses. Historic precedents for the 21st-century phenomenon of the Essex girl can be found in ballad literature, workhouse records and crime pamphlets, which abound with foul-mouthed molls and bludgets. Essex was always noted for its ducking stools and scolds' bridles, and for "witches", which is just another name for uncontrollable women. Lady Mary Wroth, who lived at Loughton from 1604 to 1617 or so, was pretty wild, for an aristocrat, because she kept her lawful husband on short rations till he died, then got off with her married cousin, whom she had fancied all her life, had two children by him, and compounded her offence by publishing both the poems she wrote during the affair and a roman à clef about the knobs she had known at the court of James I. Wroth was an Essex girl only by marriage. Mad Madge Cavendish, who was born Margaret Lucas in Chelmsford in about 1624, was the real thing. Not only did she wear fantastic clothes of her own invention, she did not wear quite enough of them. Pepys began by being intrigued when he first saw her on May Day 1667, "with her velvet cap, her hair about her ears, many black patches because of pimples around her mouth, naked necked (ie bosomed), without anything about it and a black juste au corps---she seemed to me a very comely woman." A few days later he saw her "in her coach with 100 boys and girls running looking upon her". Madge was by then the Duchess of Newcastle and had published a panegyrical account of her husband's achievements, which included having sex with her in such a way that she did not become pregnant. Like most lechers, Pepys was a prude and was embarrassed to be caught reading "the ridiculous history of Lord Newcastle wrote by his wife which shows her to be a mad, conceited, ridiculous woman, and he an asse to suffer her to write what she writes to him and of him." Only an Essex girl would have referred to her husband's penis as "nature's posset-maker". The other courtiers advised Newcastle to shut her up in a dark room till she came to her senses. Her only ambition, Madge was not ashamed to say, was to be famous. Your true Essex girl has much less money than Madge and she tends to spend it unwisely, on convenience food and outings and toys for her kid. If the 21st-century Essex girl dreams of taking her toddler to Disneyland, 19th-century Essex girls played an important part in inventing a separate culture for children. Ann and Jane Taylor, daughters of a nonconformist minister and engraver from Loughton, published Original Poems for Infant Minds in 1805; the book went through at least 50 editions and addled the brains of children for two centuries. Rhymes for the Nursery (1806) contained the four immortal quatrains of mindless nonsense that begin "Twinkle, twinkle little star, How I wonder what you are! Up above the world so high, Like a diamond in the sky." No amount of ridicule could abash the Taylor sisters or limit their runaway success, which was shared by one of their Loughton neighbours, Sarah Catherine Martin, who put together the definitive version of Old Mother Hubbard. And similarly, in millennial Britain, by day at least, no Essex girl would neck her Diamond White at a pub without a Fun Factory or a Wacky Warehouse. <HR></BLOCKQUOTE> I love that so much.... brings a tear to my eye. oh yeah and the jokes.... <BLOCKQUOTE><font size="1" face="verdana">quote:</font><HR> Q: What do you call an Essex girl with half a brain ? A: Gifted! Q: How do Essex girl braincells die ? A: Alone. Q: How do you brainwash an Essex girl ? A: Give her a douche and shake her upside down. Q: How does an Essex girl part her hair ? A: (Action of scissoring legs apart) Q: Why do Essex girls wash their hair in the kitchen sink ? A: Because, that's where you're supposed to wash vegetables! Q: Why didn't the Essex girl want a window seat on the plane ? A: She'd just dyed her hair. Q: Why didn't the Essex girl want a window seat on the plane ? A: She'd just blow dried her hair and she didn't want it blown around too much. Q: Why do Essex girls wear their hair up ? A: To catch as much as they can that is over their heads. Q: Why is it good to have an Essex girl passenger ? A: You can park in the handicap zone. Q: Why is an Essex girl like a turtle ? A: They both get fucked up when they're on their back. Q: How do you make an Essex girl's eyes light up ? A: Shine a flashlight in their ear. Q: Why should Essex girls not be given coffee breaks ? A: It takes too long to retrain them. Q: How can you tell if an Essex girl's been using the computer ? A: There's Tipp-Ex on the screen. Q: What's the difference between an Essex girl and a computer ? A: You only have to punch information into a computer once. Q: What do an Essex girl and your computer have in common ? A: You don't know how much either of them mean to you until they go down on you. Q: What did the Essex girl think of the new computer? A: She didn't like it 'cos she couldn't get East Enders.... Q: Why do Essex girls wear shoulder pads? A: (With a rocking of the head from side to side) I dunno! Q: How do you kill an Essex girl? A: Put spikes in her shoulder pads. Q: How do Essex girls pierce their ears? A: They put tacks in their shoulder pads. Q: Why don't Essex girls eat Jelly? A: They can't figure out how to get two cups of water into those little packages. Q: What do you call an Essex girl with a fiver on the top her head? A: All you can eat, under a fiver. Q: Why don't Essex girls eat pickles? A: Because they can't get their head in the jar. Q: Why do Essex girls wear hoop earings? A: They have to have some place to rest their ankles. Q: What does an Essex girl put behind her ears to make her more attractive? A: Her ankles. Q: Why do Essex girls wear green lipstick? A: Because red means stop. Q: Why do Essex girls wear red lipstick? A: Because red means "Stop, wrong hole." Q: How can you tell if an Essex girl has been in your refrigerator? A: By the lipstick on your cucumbers. Q: Why don't Essex girls use vibrators? A: They chip their teeth. Q: Why do Essex girls wear underwear? A: They make good ankle warmers. Q: What do Essex girls do for foreplay? A: Remove their underwear. Q: What's the mating call of the Essex girl? A: "I'm *sooo* drunk!" Q: What is the mating call of the ugly Essex girl? A: (Screaming) "I said: I'm drunk!" Q: What's the mating call of the London girl? A: "All the Essex girls have gone home!" Q: What's the mating call of the Geordie girl? A: "Next!" Q: Why do Essex girls like VAT? A: Because they can spell it. Q: What is 83 to an Essex girl? A: 69 plus VAT. Q: Why do Essex girls have TGIF on their shoes? A: Toes go in first. Q: Why do Essex girls have TGIF on their shirts? A: Tits go in front. <HR></BLOCKQUOTE> blonde jokes with Essex scattered around. hmmm....
<BLOCKQUOTE><font size="1" face="verdana">quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by Bobs dirty slut: If you can be arsed to read this, this is pretty much hit the nail on the head even though I hate German Greer..<HR></BLOCKQUOTE> i ain't reading that crap.. and don't knock german beer.... falling down juice
I only just finished reading it actually... better than watching blokes chat shit about cars forever....
