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"Talking scrotal lumps"

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    "Talking scrotal lumps"


    I thought I should drop this one here, because I ain't got a blog. One slip of the finger and that was jobbie-talk.

    Anyway, I digress.

    May I talk bollocks* in this thread?

    Fuck this non-sweary-title shit. However sensible it is.

    Yeah, I typed for about 20 minutes, then deleted it. You know what I mean.


      Missing the second asterisk, is unforgivable.

      Those bars, under the name, change colour, don't they? And,it's about number of posts, isn't it, the deeper the colour, and it's to 10,

      Good luck in the games.

      (Clean 'em, urs.)


        That wasn't why I posted that time either. However, it boosts the number of posts I have, as the copper/bronze under my name, is perfect. So, I'm going to stay this way for a while. Wish me luck xx

        (Yes, I literally know that that is ginger.)


          Youtube has started to guess what I am looking for, right at the bottom of their options, because, I just was nudged toward a Matt Monro docu, which I suspect I haven't seen, or have but, blah.

          Can't remember. Anyway, don't chew your frog's legs. They can swim faster than you. Within certain constraints. Like timing a dive to a gunshot, along with seven other frogs... quivering, and then well, I don't know what they can hear, so, I left tha


          and they're off...


            Oh, and, I've become a great, great Uncle.

            I am 52.



              Semi-interesting anecdata: I have bought and lost 7 baseball type caps, since living here.I have now started buying two at a time.

              Not including the two I brought with me, 5 of the 8 that 'Im Indoors had, and the several given away free at two Prides.

              Such a klutz.


                Getting old.

                Yeah, fucking right I am. Which means I am becoming extremely good at being me.


                  And not having any living thing which I control. So, yeah, people, occasional insects, without capture, and bastard green hummingbirds,who zoom around me KNOWING that I am neither skillful, nor believable, in providing proof of said 'Ruth' little bastard.

                  I've literally had two different hummingbirds within 12 inches of my head, in my live*. I got to turn and see them, twice.

                  Yeah, we're not getting a cat.

                  *misspelled "life".

                  How tasty is hummingbird?


                    'Cos I was thinking, dunno, stretchy black* one, that could just ... yawn, strike a pose, then KILL that byebyebaby

                    Or, smidgeonette- gingerwhom no-one trusts, so starves, cos it's a fucking ginger.

                    Or, dunno, Kev, the cat that died in my arms, because I was first to react (collar, before the days it wasstuck in your body)

                    I never say the words "Trust me", and I won't now. We are so not getting any living thing anywhere near us, that does not own it's own insurance.Or bus fare. Can't remember future/past tenses.


                    *thinking about that when I wrote it. 4 cats have had me in their life. Raven (yes, not my choice) was the one that decided to let me live. And Ravey was a he.
                    But, and I will say this out loud, he fucking ruled a teeny part of Tottenham, and as he lies resplendent in a cold garden in Derby, bite me. I may break from my ex but never from a cat. And, I am unable to find out whether ... yeah, he isn't. My memories now have depth. Which means, I am lying. Me and Bobby MacGee.


                      The names Raven and Ravey are the same entity.

                      I live in a condo. I can see bats giving their final wipeout phase, from where I sit.

                      I don't get to own anything or anyone. I get to pay to watch the world be fucking magnificent. Hopefully, without death.But, negligble.


                        Like cats no smoking no eating no 'chicken' and no choices


                        PS Yeah, we're in trouble as a memory unit, but NONETHELESS we are not getting a pet. (But hopefully a newspaper. Oh wait, a comnputer that wor


                          I've only just realised that the subject matter of this thread is bollocks and not testicular cancer.


                            Weird juxtaposition with vegan sausage rolls.


                              Not sure if I was allowed to type Bollocks as part of the title.

                              Which makes it perfectly acceptable.


                                The memory unit thing is actually true. We're collectively 131* years old.

                                We're not getting an animal.

                                *Sorry, I am mistaken, and I live here. 128 years old. We may be too old to get a fucking pizza together.
                                Last edited by Gerontophile; 12-01-2019, 16:30.


                                  Originally posted by Gerontophile View Post
                                  Not sure if I was allowed to type Bollocks as part of the title.

                                  Which makes it perfectly acceptable.
                                  If we can't say bollocks in the title can we say Scunthorpe?


                                    Who is this 'we'?


                                      And remember kids: don't take edibles without an adult present!