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puggybear

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Posts posted by puggybear

  1. Went for a ride with my mate Ryan yesterday...just a pootle,no particular goal in mind.

    At one point we got caught in a brief but very definite shower,which left standing water.

    The shower lasted no more than 3 minutes,but there was a certain determination to it.

    We arrive at the cafe for a brew-Ryan says;

    "Jesus,Pug-those f#cking puddles were dangerous. How do you get puddles suddenly,like that?!?"

  2. Chin up,Tango-can-I-call-you-Bob.


    My mate Attilio [yeah I know-it's Sicilian for 'Arthur'] just two weeks ago had open heart surgery. he had the same thing,two stents,plus a vein taken from his legs to bypass something-or-other.

    It involved sawing through his sternum,etc. BUT.....yesterday,Attilio and me went for a [admittedly slow] stroll around his village,then I drove him and his missus into town so they could go to Tesco.

    [Again,I must admit,slow 'n' steady,no skipping or prancing]

    But it's a mere two weeks to the day that he had the op,mate!

    So,big grins all round,Tango mIcyB....it beats the alternative hands down,bro!


    Right;seeing as we are both INCREDIBLY butch;consider yourself man-hugged. http://i42.tinypic.com/2ngefih.gif

  3. I saw Max live twice-I can tell yerz,the timing he had was perfect-and he was bloody hilarious,too.


    Now-what did I com..ah,yes....

    A tale of light shining through the unemployment darkness.....


    My mate's son [17] has been told he has to go on a course learning to write his CV,or lose any entitlement to JSA. He left school this summer,having completed exams,etc.

    He's SO pissed off;his actual words were,"Everyone and their dog has a Ph D in unemployment,today".

    So he and a lad he was doing his exams with printed off some cards offering to do gardening/general handyman stuff,around this local area. He's had work FLOOD in-seriously,he's so busy he's getting home at 7/8pm. The thing is,'word of mouth' re the standard of his work is bringing him more work.

    His dad and I went to buy an old petrol rotavator one week ago-and already he's working on allotments,doing the prep work for Autumn planting,plus the gardening work,etc.

    So,6 'A' levels-and he's earning his wage by digging. [Not to everyone's taste,I know]

    But proof that if you don't give in,the light WILL break through....

  4. Fozzie,if I might interject.....don't hold grudges-hold your head up,mate!

    What you've got,you've earned,it's on solid foundations,you have a future.

    What your former buddy has is a paper house,built on bullsh1t.

    The older I get,the more I see the truth of 'what goes around,comes around'.

    I'm just a glorified dustman. I drive the roadtrains that swap those huge skips at recycling/amenity sites. I've done it for yonks. Since leaving the military,it's what I chose to do-I had my reasons.

    Everyone I was at uni with thought I was a complete idiot to 'waste my education'.

    But,I've never been out of work-rubbish/refuse/recycling just keeps on coming.

    All but ONE of my uni mates are on the rock-n-role,as their various companies have gone down the pan,shrunk,'downsized' etc etc. All of them laughed at me when they discovered what I chose to do.

    I will admit to some days being REALLY taxing-but,I own my home,car,bike,guitars...humble though they be.

    OWN,not 'am making payments on'.

    NONE of my uni mates can say the same.

    Plus,I have never ever owned [or wanted] a credit card.

    If I can't pay for it-I don't want it. That's just my personal ethos,but it works for me.

    So you hang in there,let the solid foundations you built hold you in place-and watch the circle turn.

  5. I'm not going into detail-you wouldn't believe it.

    But yesterday I 'sorted out' [let's leave it there] a really obnoxious self-important prick.

    .....turns out it was the manager's husband. I've never seen the dogshit egotistical ponce before.

    I have NO idea what the fat self-important slag was even doing on the premises-he shouldn't be able.


    So just ........ FAAAAAAARRRKKKKIIIIIIIIITTT!

    No. Just,no.

    I spent 12 years in 45,taking all KINDS of shit I'm not going into,so THAT fat ponce can be sarcastic to me,PLUS think he can touch me,push me,shove me- just because his gormless wife is the manager? ....NO. He learned the hard way,the painful way,THAT's not gonna happen!

    'No action to be taken'....NOT because that fat cnut came 2nd when the physical stuff started,NOT because I'll go feral if they try to 'take action',Not because he 'got heroic' on me...but because SHE shouldn't have allowed the fat ponce on site,let alone given him a pass! And she KNOWS it.

    So-I've decided to ask for my P45 and move on,before he wakes up in an ambulance-& I'm in a cell.



    [i would just like to add . . .you have NO idea how many times I've re-written,re-phrased,changed and altered this,in an attempt to hide the white burning anger that even now is still like a furnace inside me. So,I apologise to you,who has NO idea what this is all about. I just feel better,a little bit,for getting it out. So,I proffer apologies to all/anyone who read this & is thinking WTF??

    {even though this is the 55th version I've written,trying desperately to tone it down}]`

  6. Oh,the reg? AAA 999.
    A 1936 Mini Cooper?

     

    Nonono,Mr B-The car itself was a 1969 mkII. The old chap I got it from had been told to stop driving,so had no more use for it. He did mention the plates had been relevant to him-but I had only two weeks leave and wasn't going to fart around with reg plates. Then I just forgot about it. Finally,when I sold it to Dolly,my mind was on other things. The registration was,I THINK,originally from a Jowett Javelin.

  7. Oh,I didn't want his money,Joe.


    But my mum gave him a home when his own family threw him out.

    Just a 'Thanks,Puggymum,have a little 'thankyou' for all you've done.


    Still-there ya go. I like me. I'm not perfect-but worth liking. I know I can be trusted-with ANYthing.


    He'll never have that. I win.

  8. The ONLY car/bike who's registration I can recall is my black Mini Cooper.

    Got recall for third N.I.tour,didn't want it sitting around going rusty for 6 months [it was winter],with tyre walls cracking etc...so sold it to my totally trusted good mate Dolly Gray for £50. Only after I was hospitalised several weeks in due to a calor-gas-canister bomb,did I discover,and only THEN because his mum wrote to me in the milly hosp,that he'd sold the registration number for- - - [waiiit for iiit,yew 'orrible little man!]- - - £7,500. But he still had 'my' Cooper,comp with newly issued reg no.. YEW WOT??? Yep. Dickhead moi hadn't ever given the reg no a thought. I used to come home on leave,pootle around a bit,bark around on my bikes,play a couple of gigs if poss with musician mates,then park everything up and return for next tour. The ONLY reason I sold the Coop rather than park it as per,was that Dolly had been giving me earache about it. About wanting it,wanking over it,loving it,longing for it. Ahh,soddit,ok,Dolly-we shook on £50 NOT because that was it's value,but because I'd started to think sooner-or-later I wasn't going to make it home. One 'event' too many would mean a box for me and a scrapheap for my bikes/Cooper.So,I gave 'Coop' a good home. So I thought. I can't have been back in Crossmaglen more than ten minutes before Dolly slid the knife in from behind. Don't get me wrong,I don't give a flying one that he made a profit.

    But why lie? Especially to my mum,who gave him a home-but got not even a box of Quality St.

    So-there ya go. a long boring post on how never to trust your best mate.

    I did see him ONCE when home for further training at Lympstone-but he legged it,and I've never seen him since. Amazing what speed a guilty conscience can give a wrongun's feet.

    Oh,the reg? AAA 999.

  9. Ah. Well the 'Puggy' came from boxing for my school,then county,then regiment [45],being a piss-take on 'pugilist'. The 'bear' part arrived during an inter-services contest in which I was matched against a bloke from the REME,who complained very loudly that hitting me was 'like trying to knock out a bear',which instantly got me christened Puggybear....and it stuck. I'm just Pug,Puggy or PB to everyone and have been since Noah was learning carpentry...

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