I drink whisky which means every Christmas people can buy me a bottle and by the following year they’ll be able to buy me another.
Otherwise, I just buy myself stuff and then give it to the kids to give to me.
Look, you get born, you keep your head down, and then you die. If you’re lucky.
#fedi22
I drink whisky which means every Christmas people can buy me a bottle and by the following year they’ll be able to buy me another.
Otherwise, I just buy myself stuff and then give it to the kids to give to me.
I do so well with reading and cooking but really let myself down with strangling small animals.
And that was when the SAS started recruiting ‘grenade returner’ jugglers.
There’s absolutely no sensible reason to even consider not doing this.
What do you mean Lemmy doesn’t have karma?
It does so too and! All you need to do to reveal it is just obsessively go through your entire post and comment history on a daily basis and add up all the upvotes you’ve ever received. Easy.
How a post on Reddit accidentally kickstarted the revival of Angus Steakhouse
Didn’t the headline writer read the article? There was nothing accidental about it.
Mmmm, the sweet, succulent taste of chlorinated chicken.
Sunlit uplands!
Peanuts are probably one of your five-a-day or some such so, yeah, five deep-fried Snickers a day sounds like solid nutritional science.
Well, exactly. But their IPA certainly tastes like it has some vinegar in it.
Yeah, yeah, yeah, but are deep-fried Bounty Bars on the healthy list or the unhealthy list? How are we supposed to know?
It’s not the strength I object to, it’s the taste. I’m sure they put too much vinegar in their IPA, for example.
Can we petition to stop Greene King? Their beer is fucking awful.
If only the tram could have kind of scooped up the morels and taken them on board… but there wasn’t mush room inside!
Pffft. Hendo’s is better.
Hold my flashbang, I’m going in!
Reminds me of one of the teenage scrotes from where I grew up who somehow managed to nick a chequebook.
The kid went into an audio/video specialist in town and wrote a cheque for a high end TV. This was back when TVs were all using cathode-ray tubes and were bloody heavy. The guy in the shop offered to deliver it. So our plucky hero gave him his name and address.
The police were waiting for him by the time he got home.
I think it’s a ‘q’.
“Fell out of window… hard.”