I don't think he's on there now, he and Sciatica arrived at the same time didn't they ?

Is this clown The Deep still there?



I forget who did the christening now but it was excellent.

For some reason he used a version of this as his avatar

Quote from: Alex on Today at 06:30:40 PMI go a week or more without popping in to PF, the only time I post is when I see that awful Sciatico giving Muddy down the banks    Mind you she's a big girl and usually puts him in his place, only for him to come back with the same old crap !

Yes, when I used to go there, all I saw from Scatty was absolute nonsense and, naturally, avoided any interaction with him.  For God's sake, don't anyone tell him about this place!

I go a week or more without popping in to PF, the only time I post is when I see that awful Sciatico giving Muddy down the banks    Mind you she's a big girl and usually puts him in his place, only for him to come back with the same old crap !

Akbuk came here originally but stopped coming once Chris got the constant PF forum bugs fixed. I think the problem being that he had moved it onto free hosting but he never admitted that.

This place was only intended to be a backup to PF if, as it appeared at the time, Chris gave up on it. If he hadn't made such a fuss this forum wouldn't exist and there would still only be PF plus the group that moved off from PF earlier who are still going too or at least I think they are as the site still exists but my login there doesn't or so it seems.

Quote from: klondike on Today at 01:26:17 PMBe a better idea to house all politicians there, lock it up and lose the keys.

I like the way you think!!

Now we have "Return of National Service". Yeah right I'm sure we will. 

Well I suppose he thinks he can upset the young as they'll never vote for him anyway but does anybody think teaching our already violent underclass who would be the only ones too daft to dodege this how to be more violent is a good idea? I suppose the drug runners might become better shots leading to less collateral damage but I wouldn't count on it.

I agree, of course, that there are many decent members over there, some of course who also post on here.  Yes, Akbuk is one, for example, who I think doesn't come here.

Brian, of course, is another!

I have had a quick look at what's going on there, from time to time, but have no intention of ever returning there and posting.  The boss obviously hates the idea of any members popping over here, which I think is rather childish.

I had a quick look just now, to see a header suggesting: "Please join us (it's free)".  Perhaps he's losing members!  🤣

As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end.

Ok but here is the obligatory disclaimer


Disclaimer: None of the below is intended to be a personal attack on the elderly (coffin-dodgers), check-out assistants or children. So if you are elderly, a checkout assistant, or a child, know some-one or are related on your mothers side to either a coffin-dodger or check-out assistants, or know a child or a in way related to a child, or where one previously I do love you and this is all a bit of fun ok?
Anyway moaning about it will only make me depressed.

I did post this many moons ago, I shop  online now so don't have a pop.

Asda, the Saga.

Yesterday I shopped at Asda, on my own, (Lady readers will shudder at the mere thought of a man alone doing the weekly shop)  my beloved, peace and blessings on her name and worth the camel was having her eyes tested and gave me a list of items (which I lost) and with a sigh pointed me in the direction of Asda...

So I went, ...boldly, where no Vlad has gone before and without a safety net.


Now, I'm no more stressed than your average brand-aware psychotic, but supermarkets really do it to me. If there's one place where the UK gun laws should be relaxed (in fact, allowed completely), it's while wandering the aisles of the local Tesco, Asda, Morrisons, or whatever the hell else there is. Here's why...

First of all - you walk into Asda your local happy supermarket. You need money. Where are the cash-points? They're placed (for your convenience) behind the rows of shopping baskets, and there's 4 idiots milling around either trying to remember how to use new-fangled things like cash-machines, failing to remember which page of their diaries they wrote the PIN number on, or just stood there, watching. And then there's one person, just waiting for the other morons to get the out the way. and the stress is going up already. Yes, that person is me.

I can't deny it - I'm Type A all the way when it comes to shopping. I know what I want (pretty much) because  my belovedI wife  has told me, I know where it all is (unless they've moved it all around again - a joyous marketing ploy to make us see what else is in stock at the store, and custom designed to annoy off those of us who wanted to shop quickly), and I simply want to go in, get money, put the stuff I need in a trolley, take it to a till, manned by that fat bugger Elton John,  (more of Elton in Part 2) exchange money for goods, and get out. Rapidly. Is that too much to ask?

Obviously, the answer to this simple question is "Yes.". Because it never happens. By the time I've finally managed to get to the cash-points - and before you ask, no, there isn't another one on my route between home and nearest supermarket - all the idiots who preceded me, as well as all the ones who were already prepared with money, are in the store. The day is going downhill - rapidly.

First - fresh veg. If I were a conspiracy theorist, I'd start wearing a tinfoil hat to block my brainwaves, because there is always some coffin dodger who's parked his trolley in front of the veg section I want, and is away weighing his onions, or counting cloves on garlic bulbs or something. And as soon as you move their bloody trolley, you can hear the "tut" from over your left shoulder I start to wish the old bugger would croak, but then I might feel guilty as I stepped over them to carry on with my shopping.

And so it goes on - and on and on and on. The bread counter is populated by morons who either a) can't remember what sort of bread they like or b)can't work out whether 2 loaves for 99p is a better deal than buying a white one for 44p and a brown one for 55p. (I couldn't make this cr%p up - I've seen it happen, and been forced to listen to the ensuing conversation, and all without resorting to ripping their tongues out), In the dairy section, there are people who still haven't worked out the colour coding on milk, nor how to read the labels on the shelves beside the milk. "Is the green label semi-skimmed, or full fat?" I hear them ask. And I know they've asked this many times - because I've seen them many times, always in the same place, always asking the same bloody thing.

Invariably, there's a screaming brood of kids somewhere in the shop, and I find myself praying for them to walk into a shelving unit, and die under a rain of falling baked bean tins. But no, it never happens. Instead, they just wander the aisles, screaming like recently departed lost souls in some particularly vile purgatory. Dante was wrong - the ninth level of Hell is populated by people who think supermarkets are great places to take kids. Personally, I think that we should fence off a couple of the trolley parks, and leave toddlers out in the rain, chained to the railings the same way people have to leave dogs outside shops. They can't run away, and they'll still be there when you come back for them.

There's always some pair of coffin-dodging weirdo's, who have to walk side-by-side down the aisles. it's like they're symbiotically attached, Siamese twins joined at the shopping trolley. They have no knowledge of the other people in the store, most of the time I'm not sure they even really know they're in a store, but they successfully manage to block the traffic flow for half the store.

In along with all the customers, there's the staff as well. Just to make life more fun, they haul around cages full of stock, and then leave it in the aisle - just far enough out from the side that it makes life more difficult to get past them when you're shoving the trolley.

Finally, the tills. There's some poor conveyor-monkey sat there, whose whole life consists of sweeping other people's good over the laser, listening to it beep for each item. The entire process is scripted to a tee, from saying "Hi" in the world's most bored voice and asking whether you need help with packing your purchases, through the beeps and straight into handing over the cash - it's all just a process, fuelled by dangerous levels of tedium, boredom and retardation.

And the worst of it is - there's none of the other stores that are any better. They all seem to have a policy of employing people who think that working for superstores is the best that they can aspire to. They're all just as bad - they all attract the same kinds of people, both as customers and employees. There is one way of avoiding most of this cr%p - not all of it, but most of it - it involves shopping at about 3 in the morning, at the local Asda superstore... And don't get me bloody started on those bleedin trolleys......

In part 2, The Standoff. Vlad v Elton on checkout 5
Also available on Netflix

Today at 04:55:03 PM

Quote from: Scrumpy on Today at 03:26:18 PMI'm all ears..
But don't use any long words..
Nor swear words.. Please don't talk about sex.. It buggers up my memory.. Nor wonky trollies..

😂😂 Has you commanded I made it so.