It appears to Constant Reader that some people here are actually entering tags so that someone (who?) could actually search for one of their subs in the future. Very sad.
The sole purpose of tags is to anonymously taunt others. End of story.
Quick links: NewsBiscuit Home • Chat Room • Writers' Room • Top Ten
It appears to Constant Reader that some people here are actually entering tags so that someone (who?) could actually search for one of their subs in the future. Very sad.
The sole purpose of tags is to anonymously taunt others. End of story.
Rikkor means itchy twat in Navajo.
who needs tags?
Ram, your mother was Native American then? Did she get to England a la Pochohontas?
Rikky, my old fruit. Me old mum is not was,yet, but still is, in body if not in mind. I'd certainly be honoured if I could trace my ancestry back to Pocahontas. Did she die in Gravesend? The perfect spot for it, if she did. Unfortunately I'm more likely to be related to Pinocchio.
BTW take my advice of yesterday. Run up and down Bunker Hill a couple of times, then forget I'm British and take the pill.
Apparently she died on a boat on the Thames but is buried in the grounds of St. George's Church Gravesend (exact whereabouts unknown).
As far as I know, this is Gravesend's only claim to fame (unless you count Gemma Arterton).
Here endeth the lesson.
Gravesend:
A town of great beauty and cultural diversity, like so many towns in Kent or Essex that meet the Thames estuary. A veritable mecca for travelling free spirits, concrete, and London overspill. In addition, by its very name it marks the end of death, and not because of cruel jibes that it is a desolate 1960s wasteland. Surely, if I were ever to abduct a teenage Indian princess, it would be the first town to take her to.
1960s wasteland? You flatter us Sir! It was a wasteland long before that.
Reich, me old ex chum. As the hour is late and there's no-one else about I'll tell you a little story. If you've taken any notice you'll know me old mum is in her eighties, she lives in Richmond, North Yorkshire and is going a bit doolally. I nip up there quite often to do the dutiful son bit and often take her for a drive into the Dales. She likes it and I hate living in a city. Going through a village in Wensleydale, passing a pub, she suddenly comes out with "Oh, I once went there twice". A little thing but a gem nevertheless.
I know I'm sounding like a pregnant who's nibbling at their unborn because the take-away is closed but the best thing about this place is the chat and the tags.
What's a pregnant?
It's the early stages of post natal depression.
You must log in to post.