Just been to the Remembrance Day memorial service. The number of weedy, feeble cadets needing to be helped off for a sit down after standing up for a couple of hours was disappointingly low.
simonwolfi can feel a differencetoday, a differenceRegistered Userregular
edited November 2013
Someone on my twitter feed linked to this newspaper article from 1894 and it's pretty great
A DANCING SCANDAL.
Mrs. Florrie Lamb, a woman who affected dancing classes, has been the plaintiff in a slander case which has caused no little amusement in Sydney by the nature of the evidence. The conductor of a fashionable dancing class, named West, was the plaintiff, and in consequence of certain charges of improper conduct made by him against plaintiff, she sued him for £1000 damages.
The evidence for the defence was to the effect that plaintiff made much too free with young men during the Terpsichorean pleasures, and that she indulged too heartily in "refreshments," an instance in point being alleged that she "mixed her drinks" to the extent of indulging in two whiskys and a glass of beer in ten minutes; but this, she was alleged to have said, only made her "jolly."
One person gave evidence to the effect that he saw the plaintiff in an intoxicated condition in the smoking-room of the dancing academy, with her arm amorously around the neck of a young man. This young man, however, indignantly denied this statement, whilst the plaintiff denied all the statements made about her alleged bad conduct in tote. The jury must have felt that tho plaintiff had been unjustly scandalised, as they awarded her £300 damages.
As usual on such occasions, the court was crowded each day of hearing, and the evidence was eagerly drank in by those who are such utter slaves to scandals of this character. Mrs. Lamb will, no doubt, be solaced to some extent by the amount of damages awarded, her, and it will be satisfactory to those who follow the pleasures of dancing in "a jolly fashion" to know that the law has sympathy with them in their desire to make them selves "agreeable" in social circles.
simonwolf on
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KageraImitating the worst people. Since 2004Registered Userregular
I doubt they could forge a story like this. It's to stupidly real to be fiction
My neck, my back, my FUPA and my crack.
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KageraImitating the worst people. Since 2004Registered Userregular
Also
One night, Gordon was feeling very sorry for himself.
"All the other engines have someone!" he sighed. "I pull carriages every day, and yet none of them fancy me!"
Just then, Thomas came by with Annie and Clarabel in tow.
"Peep Peep! Hello Gordon!" he whistled cheerfully. "I'm going to need the shed tonight, if you know what I mean!"
Sadly, Gordon pulled away. "This will never do!" From the shed, he could hear Thomas's coupler clanking.
The next morning, Gordon was tired and grumpy, and try as he might, his driver could not make him move. The conductor went to fetch the Fat Controller.
The Fat Controller had no luck either. "We'll have to try something else" he said. He pulled out his handkerchief and gave Gordon's big brass whistle a rub.
"Toot toot!" whistled Gordon in surprise and pleasure. "That is different!"
"Let's get back to the shed" said the Fat Controller coyly.
Back at the shed, Gordon's fire was very hot. "The Fat Controller will burst my boiler in no time!" he thought, letting off some steam excitedly. Meanwhile, the Fat Controller had dropped his pants and was getting ready for business. Gordon moved slowly forward and coupled himself to the Fat Controller's waiting asshole.
"I feel marvellous!" cried the Fat Controller in pleasure. Gordon felt marvellous too, and began to build up more steam. Together, they were very happy, until finally both had had enough.
"Oooooooh!" Gordon's whistle blasted as he came. "Oooooooh!" The Fat Controller's whistle also blasted as he came. "I should have worn my snow plough!" cried Gordon.
The Fat Controller climbed into Gordon's cab and lit his pipe. "That was very cheeky!" he said. Gordon winked.
I think this will turn out to be a happy relationship. Don't you?
cue credits
Rimworld has some hilarious catastrophes. This game definitely has promise as a prettier and more playable Dwarf Fortress. Pirate raids mean my little subterranean base population went from 4 to 2 + 8 corpses.
In An English Room, some of England's most prominent figures share their precious retreats and reveal their thoughts about Englishness, English rooms and the treasured objects within them. Benedict Cumberbatch divulges where he likes to read scripts; Stephen Fry invites you into his dressing room at the Apollo Theatre, London; P. D. James discusses the inspiration for her novel The Black Tower; and fashion designer Paul Smith contemplates the joys of his book-and-knick-knack-crammed office. The impeccably dressed Gilbert & George take you on a tour of their beautiful Queen Anne house, while Alan Bennett waxes nostalgic about his rumpled existence in Primrose Hill. Derry Moore's discerning eye captures the essence of the English room at home or abroad, whether it be a country cottage, large estate, exquisite chapel or an artist's studio. All those with a passion for English culture, society, design and fashion will take pleasure in this unique view into the private lives of some of England's national treasures. This book not only showcases the splendid and internationally recognised art of English interior design but also contains some of the finest examples of English portraiture today.
Christ, Alan Bennett, Stephen Fry, Gilbert & George and Fragglerock Ampersand all sitting about reading books just talking about Englishness, probably while sipping tea and eating cucumber sandwiches.
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you're not my dad, you can't tell me what to do
Goddamn who keeps a 'health drink' for three freaking years?
Once you realize it's a story from the Mail everything makes perfect sense.
his page has the word "freemason" used more than once
firstly; ouch. Fucking wine and fucking tannins.
secondly; welp I am only waking up like three hours after the climbing course today started.
thirdly; oh goddammit, the ex.
...nope.
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Christ, Alan Bennett, Stephen Fry, Gilbert & George and Fragglerock Ampersand all sitting about reading books just talking about Englishness, probably while sipping tea and eating cucumber sandwiches.
NONE MORE ENGLISH.
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