The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ. Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit. Shall lure it back to cancal half a line, Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.
Our local council has gone a bit wild with their social signage again.
Post edited by Urban_Tribesman at 2014-06-20 18:13:31
The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ. Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit. Shall lure it back to cancal half a line, Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.
Even the local supermarket is on the case. They have obviously been paying attention.
The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ. Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit. Shall lure it back to cancal half a line, Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.
Is this time for photos of other things stuck in.. ahem.. orifices? Heard a great story from a friend in A& E about a man who came in with a tomato ketchup bottle wedged in his ( thinks of polite phrase) jacksie. When asked how it had happened, he told some story of going shopping and coming home, found he had lost his keys, so he went around the back, put his shopping bag down and started to climb up a drainpipe. Part way up his trousers popped undone, he lost his grip and fell, landing on the shopping bag and the bottle of Mr Heinz' finest. Apparently, he was at a loss as to when the condom got over the bottle though ! Perhaps this should be in the urban myths thread.
The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ. Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit. Shall lure it back to cancal half a line, Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.
I was sad today to hear about Rolf Harris, A large slice of my childhood memories have now been sullied. My parents took me to see him in concert in the late 60's/early 70's where I not only saw him, but also his Coojee bear. Does this give me proximity?
The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ. Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit. Shall lure it back to cancal half a line, Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.
Ah, the joys of the continent and France in general. To demonstrate; an image from Paris:
And the same scene, but, this time, shot in Romford, just outside London for our American friends:
The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ. Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit. Shall lure it back to cancal half a line, Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.
Yeah, yeah. We all know: Skinny people pretty; fat people grotesque. However, in either case, I can't imagine that their panty strings aren't stained with poop.