Discussion in 'The NAAFI Bar' started by Ravers, Apr 7, 2011.
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It's the fucking shizzle isn't it?
You're all a bunch of cunts.
All fine if you want to be seen with all the other non-employed dreggs and piss stinking pensioners! Still beats work eh!
It should be fun but it's not at the minute.
My mum is ill at the minute so isnt getting about much which means Seagull snr is at a loose end and fucking lurks outside my work place knowing full well I need about as much persuasion to go to the pub as AMMM does to talk about her mong kid.
I wouldnt mind but it turns into a session and I arrive back three hours later stinking of cigs and chewing gum with a massive hole in my flexi-time.
The old cunt.
As soon as I get the taste for beer, especially when it's sunny, I end up having a session.
Fixing servers and networks whilst blurry-eyed often results in things not working as originally intended. On the other hand I put things together that shouldn't work, but end up working fine thanks to the divine beer gods.
Good ol' 'How the hell did I...?' feeling.
If you haven't started the days session by noon you're a lightweight.
Hush child, some penogs cant help it, myself I dont wear pale kecks.
N.B I hope you grow up to be VERY old.
With my group, Sagalouts , we uplift the mood in Wetherspoons every six weeks.
Cycling back home is now out as I fell of my bike thee times and two of those I wasn't even riding the bloody thing.
Taxi is the way forward.
A mixed group of a dozen or so from a potential of 200, Royals/Scaleys/Reme/RAF we will never run out of dits.
The turnout is pretty smart.
It's great if you don't have to go back to work. If I do, I usually fall asleep, which doesn't go well with my passengers.
You're old man sounds like a legend. These days I'm reduced to going on sessions with our cleaner and a Polish bloke who always seems to be in the pub.
I was promised a lunch time session today, but it's mutated into an evening beer, followed by meal and possible session in Brizzle. Still, I'm sure I can make the most of whatever presents itself!
On the plus side, there's another lunch time session tomorrow. Just one benefit of half your team saying goodbye and moving on at the same time.
The Pub? What's that?
I can't afford that so I went to Tesco and bought 24 cans of Carlsberg.
In fairness he is a right old laugh and it is amusing to be called a hat by your own dad.
I seem to remember spending most of my childhood in the passageway between the bar and "bestroom" of our local. I'd help him home and arrive with eyes redder than my dads as my eyeballs would be burnt with smoke everytime I had to pop my head round the door to ask for another packet of crisps and a refill of Apollo flat as fuck pop.
I used to love my regular pub lunches just for the resident alcoholic in the corner who would wait until the pub had filled up with the lunchtime crowds then serenade me at the top of his voice with a well known cheesey ballad containing my real name embarassing the fuck out of me every time. He never got tired of it and it got to be a tradition with the bar staff joining in.
Always loved to see the reaction on the face of whatever unsuspecting guest I dragged along.
I always wonder who told him my name, as for the first wee while I went to that pub regularly we had convinced him that I was named after where I was conceived, and that I was called "bus-stop" ... I never found out his real name though, he had introduced himself as Jim Beam!
I used to really enjoy a good lunchtime sesh in the squadron bar. It was OK in those days; Mk1 Ambulance Landies used to sway and wheel wobble so much you always drove better pissed.
The Ship Inn, Wilmslow not too long ago. A quiet corner with a couple of the chaps, and 4 hours on the Stella and After Shock chasers resulted in a drink driving offence for one, the other started being a fucking Wendy by crying about his ex bird and I lost my wallet with 200 sovs in it and all my cards.
Sport of Kings but fucking deadly if you push your luck
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