The Shirt Lifters Arms


Book Reviewer
I note with some concern that anyone not standing to the right of Attila the Hun around here is branded a pinko shirt lifter? Right, in the short time left to me before my close personal friend canteen_cowboy consigns yet another of my Public Information threads to the ARRSE Hole, I declare this thread a safe haven for all manner of shirt lifters, pinko’s, work shy dole scroungers, wholemeal socks tree huggers and men who think those spooky little beards like Craig Davis wears are funny.

I shirt lift at least once a week.

Undressing, I will drop my strides, pull my shirt over my head and dance around the bedroom shrieking “WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THAT PET?” This leads to some light banter with the Memsahib along the lines of “Jesus. Just remind me how old you are would you?” Fun for all the family.

So, if anyone has any questions regarding fashion, the arts, culture, modern dance, interior design or how to knock up a quiche in under 20 minutes – this is the thread for you.

I shall make sure those rough boys do not steal your dinner money whilst you are here, don’t you worry.
I have no intention of posting anything in here, I'm not even curious to do so or wondered what it would be like if I added a drop of balsamic vinegar into my..............

Oh feck me a I'm a back alley burrowing, too tight T-shirt wearing fudge packer of the highest water.

Pemberton - the mess Webley please - I appear to be a bender - apologies to the QM for brains on the wall.


(Lostboss has nothing against "bending" and believes everyone has equal standing. That having been said have you seen the Birds walking around London in the Sun right now. Feck me sideways Birds are great! How anyone would rather play hide the sausage with some hairy arrsed six footer rather than chase some Polish blonde bird down (they are quick over short distances but you 've got to go for the endurance kill) is beyond me.)
My friend needs a little advice on the subject that is being a nancy.
This friend of mine, he says that he has this recurring fantasy of being tied down by Dame Edna, and having Hannibal from the A-Team fellate him whilst Murdock's imaginary dog licks my friends nipples.
Also, when he goes to a public toilet, he has this over-powering urge to rub his face all over the pictures of badly drawn male genitalia that adorn the cubicle walls. Sometimes, the urge becomes too much and he eats disgarded fag butts out of the urinals, carefully dodging the 'cakes'.

Is it too late for my friend, is he to begin calling himself Jose and eating humous? Or is there still time for him to regain his hetero-tiger status?

Rowums, on behalf of a friend.


Book Reviewer
Might I ask those of you of the homosexual presuasion to keep a lid on it please? Todays armed forces are inclusonist. Which means those us us who enjoy the occasional lifting of our shirts must be free to do so without fear of our back doors being battered in.

Thank you.

Now, brown shoes with a charcoal suit? Is it only for tits like Beckham? Or should the rest of us be attempting this bold move?


Book Reviewer
TheIronDuke said:
Now, brown shoes with a charcoal suit? Is it only for tits like Beckham? Or should the rest of us be attempting this bold move?
Acceptable if one is undercover as an Italian businessman, although to entirely accurate the suit should have a slight shimery silver look and a large pocket hankerchief

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