Most stupid message while flogging a shiter

[mitsisigma01]

What, even Scottish notes🤔

[New POD]

11 hours ago, Rust Collector said:

But I haven’t even had a chance to post my mothers maiden name and the first school I went to yet!

My kids pissed themselves laughing when I told them who my childhood hero was.  Begins with J

[motorpunk]

11 hours ago, Dobloseven said:

Bloody hell, trying to think which company that might be. Going to guess SPS Technologies. Formerly TJ Brooks. 

Shit, that’s a great guess, I had an interview there once! 
 

Wadkins, Green Lane Road 👍

[Dick Cheeseburger]

Jimmy Somerville?

[Dick Cheeseburger]

Jimmy Cricket?

[Jim Bell]

3 hours ago, New POD said:

My kids pissed themselves laughing when I told them who my childhood hero was.  Begins with J

Jossy from Jossys Giants. 

[New POD]

1 hour ago, Nyphur said:

Jimmy Savile?

😳

1 hour ago, Dick Longbridge said:

Jimmy Somerville?

🤔 One moments of shame in my life is shouting something homophobic at him in 1986, from a window some five floors above him (on the street screaming at a 19 storey block of student accommodation in the early hours of the morning). In my defence my weak mitigation is that he woke me up. Not woke in a politically correct way. Just from my beautiful dreams. 

But strangely I've always like the music he plays and words he sings, and may have a bronski beat albumn. 

1 hour ago, Dick Longbridge said:

Jimmy Cricket?

Close. 

21 minutes ago, Jim Bell said:

Jossy from Jossys Giants. 

Who? 

[Jim Bell]

Just now, New POD said:

😳

🤔

Close. 

Who? 

 

 

[SRi05]

4 hours ago, New POD said:

My kids pissed themselves laughing when I told them who my childhood hero was.  Begins with J

Joey Jo-Jo Junior Shabadoo ?

[SteersWithThrottle]

1 hour ago, Dick Longbridge said:

Jimmy Cricket?

 

39 minutes ago, New POD said:

Close. 

Jimmy Krankie?

[Rod/b]

Fuck me, this thread has turned to weapons-grade dogshit.

[New POD]

52 minutes ago, Rod/b said:

Fuck me, this thread has turned to weapons-grade dogshit.

 

On 22/05/2022 at 18:14, Rod/b said:

Has the Autoshite database been corrupted, and someones ultra-dull thread about mobile phones been merged with this one or something? 

You've got a problem with this thread haven't you ? 🤔🧐🙈🙉🙊

[New POD]

54 minutes ago, Rod/b said:

Fuck me, this thread has turned to weapons-grade dogshit.

 

On 22/05/2022 at 18:14, Rod/b said:

Has the Autoshite database been corrupted, and someones ultra-dull thread about mobile phones been merged with this one or something? 

You've got a problem with this thread haven't you ? 🤔🧐🙈🙉🙊

[New POD]

54 minutes ago, Rod/b said:

Fuck me, this thread has turned to weapons-grade dogshit.

 

On 22/05/2022 at 18:14, Rod/b said:

Has the Autoshite database been corrupted, and someones ultra-dull thread about mobile phones been merged with this one or something? 

You've got a problem with this thread haven't you ? 🤔🧐🙈🙉🙊

[High Jetter]

You can say that again! 🤣

[New POD]

10 minutes ago, New POD said:

 

You've got a problem with this thread haven't you ? 🤔🧐🙈🙉🙊

 

2 minutes ago, High Jetter said:

You can say that again! 🤣

He's got a problem.with this thread. 

[Rod/b]

No, this thread is for the most part quite entertaining. 

It’s the coterie of tedious cunts who can’t help filling it with dull irrelevance I’ve got a problem with. 

[Timewaster]

16 hours ago, mitsisigma01 said:

What, even Scottish notes🤔

"I think you will find........."

 

#legal tender

[mitsisigma01]

Well that'll be 2 of us that know then .....

[mitsisigma01]

11 hours ago, New POD said:

My kids pissed themselves laughing when I told them who my childhood hero was.  Begins with J

Jeffrey Dahmer

[mitsisigma01]

11 hours ago, New POD said:

My kids pissed themselves laughing when I told them who my childhood hero was.  Begins with J

Jim Jones

[mitsisigma01]

11 hours ago, New POD said:

My kids pissed themselves laughing when I told them who my childhood hero was.  Begins with J

Jimmy Tarbuck ...

I don't know whose worst!

[DodgyBastard]

1 hour ago, Rod/b said:

No, this thread is for the most part quite entertaining. 

It’s the coterie of tedious cunts who can’t help filling it with dull irrelevance I’ve got a problem with. 

Apologies, I haven't had much for sale lately.

[wuvvum]

I never knew that the collective noun for a group of tedious cunts was a "coterie".  Every day's a school day.

[New POD]

2 hours ago, mitsisigma01 said:

Jimmy Tarbuck ...

I don't know whose worst!

Actually 

Jesus. 

[MikeR]

8 minutes ago, New POD said:

Actually 

Jesus. 

someone else who cant shut a door ...

[Dobloseven]

Perhaps it's just my sense of humour, but I've got a mental picture of Jesus giving someone a quote for a job and saying he's booked up solid till after Easter. 

[chaseracer]

51 minutes ago, Dobloseven said:

...I've got a mental picture of Jesus giving someone a quote for a job and saying he's booked up solid till after Easter. 

"I know you said Judas Iscariot told you 30 pieces of silver, but we'll need to nail that down..."

[High Jetter]

2 hours ago, New POD said:

Jesus. 

Oh Christ...

[Samuel_Pepys_Esq]

This fourmonth hence, I hadde cause for to dispense with mine Vauxhalle Astra G, as mine goodwyfe had comment’d most unfavorably on the fucktonnes of blackest smoak that didst issue forth whence caning it throu’ the Mighty Thames tunnel at Blackwall, and didst cause her coiffe to smell most lamentably of unburn'd deasel-oile, acause the passenger window hadst dropp’d but a trifling hand-breadth.   

Alsoe, the rear offside bearing wast remonstrating dismally again, and I couldst not be fuck’d pulling the cunte off once more. I dost sweare, the mechanickal particulars vended by olde Mssr. Rottingdean at the sign of Eurasian Conveyance Partes are fabricat’d from the foullest rejects of Deptforde cheesemongers mix’d with fulsome nightsoil.  

Accordingly, I didst arrange to place a free-notification in the Oxforde Gazette, begging to informe gentlemen readers of the availability of myne goodly conveyance at a moste moderate sum of three guineas, for partes or repaire. 

Some days later, just afore the city waites cryed six of the clock in the past-noon, were I at leisure in mine studye-chamber whence I didst heare a sharpe knocke at mine door. Upon setting mine eye to the latch, I could see naught, yet again didst the knocke sound.   

I didst then unbolt the door, and aspied a smol boy in rags standing thereupon mine thresholde.  

Afore I couldst enquire of the nature of his errand, the whelp didst exclaim, “My master doth say, is thine item still available?”  

Confuzzled, I didst state, “Yea, if it is mine Astra 1.7 that thy master doth make query of, it is indeed still available.”  

At that, he didst turn and run down the staircase at Ax-Court and thence out into Whitehall.  

I tarried in the hall-way for quite some tyme, for to see if his master wouldst appear - but he didst never return. 

Most vexed, I didst turn and bolt the door, and return to perusing mine copy of The Auto-Trader, for to see if there were any Passat turbodiesels left that hadst not been shipp’d to Prussia. But not many moments had elaps’d afore another knocke came.  

I didst ope mine door once more, and t’was a different smol boy astood there wearing a most absurde cock’d hat. All he didst utter was, “My master doth say, what is thy best pryce?” 

Most affronted at the brazen-nose of the whelp, did I splutter, “Indeed, sirrah, you may informe thy master that mine Astra is price’d most moderately at three guineas, and I shalt not suffer cockchafing offeres.”  

And at that, the rascal dids’t turn and flee down the steps.  

But not many minutes later didst another rat-a-tat sound, and the smol boy with the hat did stand there most bold once more.  

Now all he didst utter was “My master doth say, one guinea tonight, goodsir”.  

Much taken abacke at this insolence, I didst boxe the cur’s ears by way of answer, and sent him howling backe out into the Mall.  

As I clos’d the door once more, Elisabeth didst appear from her embroidery-chamber with a goblet of good hock-wyne.  

“I hope thou art not planning for to go out to-night, Samuel, for thou knowest full well mine mother is to call upon us at eight bells for supper, and thou art to give her a lyft back to her rooms in Cheapeside thereafter.”  

I assure’d her that all messages coming forth were relat’d to sale of mine Astra, and that t’were all at her owne requeste that I were inviting this pestilence most foule upon myselfe, which in truthe were proving more tiresomely arduous than mine accursed bladder-stones.  

Over the next two houres, suffered I a further eighteen smol boys to come a-rapping upon mine door, all most curt and insolent, assortedly claiming their masters would fetch myne conveyance this very nyte for a most dismal low amount, or that their masters wish’d most keenly to purchase mine wondrous conveyance, even to pay a handsome bag of gold sovereigns for the great privilege, but they were sorely all fighting for Emperor Leopold in the Brabant, and wouldst thusly instruct for to send me mine gold directly via The Union of the Weste, if I wouldst but only supply mine detailes.  

Churls, mountebanks and niddy-noddys, to a man. 

In truth, afore longe mine knuckles were much bruis’d and most weary’d, acause of such ear-boxings was I obligat’d to discharge upon their sorry persons.  

No sooner had I chase’d one whelp whose master did beg to swop me an elderly bull-dog with but three legges, than a knocke didst sound once more from the hall-way. 

Sore vexed from such impish torment without cease, didst I wrench ope the door in great temper and chunter out, “Go forth and fuck thyself most heartily, foulsome fruit of a whore’s dung-hamper!” 

Thou mayst be sure that I had clean forgott that Elisabeth’s mother were due for to sup with us. 

T’were a frosty enough repast, with Elisabeth and her beldame eyeing mine selfe in most sour and silent fashion, and I were sore glad when I heard another knock to the door and had sound reason to exit the dining-chamber most swiftly. 

Past the vestibule, didst I encounter a sorry-lookyng wight, somewhat besmirch’d with dunge, tipping himselfe as Ignatius Scrool Esq, and begging leave for to view mine Astra, as it possesseth many of the qualities he was most desirous of in a conveyance; viz. that it were exceeding cheape. 

Calling through to mine goodwyfe that I wouldst not be outwith two shakes of a lambes’ tail, didst I usher Mssr Scrool downe the steppes to the back-yarde, where mine Astra had been park’d up. 

In an act most fortunate, t’were somewhat wette and darke out, so the lacquer-peele didst not show too badly.  

I didst start the Astra, which regrettably took longer to catche than optimal, all the while taking greate care not to draw the attention of mine buyer to the unfortunate plumes of smoak arising, and turning on the radio for to maske a grievous grindyng sound, that had appear’d only the day before. 

Mr Scrool didst pop the bonnett, and after a few moments of poking around beneathe, presently remark’d, “goodsir, the injector seales are fuck’d, here and here, and I daresay thy water-pumpe is on its last legges, going by the fuckyng noise herein.” 

I didst demur most forcefully, decrying him a cheeseparing scoundrel here for to beat me down to naught, for this fyne engine were in sounde healthe. But that I wouldst, in truth, accepte two guineas and six shillings for it. 

“Nay sir, not two guineas – not any guineas. Not a brass farthing. It runs lumpy as pig-knuckle porridge and stinks of deasel. I fear it is fuckyng fuck’d, and therefore of no account to me. I wilt bid thee a good-nyte.” 

And off he didst stride, leaving me standing most forlorn.  

Asudden, didst I then notice mine wyfe’s beldame approaching – quoth she, in high dudgeon, “Samuel, I desire to return to mine lodgings. Wilt thy shitte-boxe make it to Cheapeside, or shalt I just hail an Uber now, and save thee from making an even bigger pryck of thyselfe?” 

Stung by her wordes, I didst protest that I hath toatal faith in mine conveyance – and in mere minutes didst we pull out onto the main thoroughfare towards the Great Abbey of Westminster. 

Lamentably, afore we coulds’t cross the bridge, mine Astra did judder most alarmingly and make much smoak, causing a grievous loss of forwarde momentum, and I wert oblige’d for to pull over. 

Mine cross-mater didst depart the conveyance most volubly, calling hence, “I shoulde have knowne, Samuel, that thy automotive wanke-socke had no more integrity than thy spousal affections. Plainly, thine injector seales are well befouled and yet I daresay thou wilt yet buy another. Faith, knowest thou not by this pretty pass that all Vauxhalls are naught but shitt?” 

And, with that, she flagg’d down a passing cab forthwith, and didst exit over the bridge. 

Mortal wounded, I didst pop the bonnett and were near knock’d colde by the aroma of deasel arising thereof, and beneath the oile cap t’were clear signs of Black Death. 

As I stood forlorn, a smol boy of dim familiarity sporting an idiot cock’d hat didst scuttle past, calling over his shoulder, “Wouldst thou had taken mine master’s guinea now, cuntichops? Thy conveyance is not worth but a hogge’s turd!” 

In the ende, I push’d the fucker off the wharfe at Blackfriars into the Mighty Thames. A poxe upon the lotte of them.  

 

 

Fucke mine lyfe.