Italians are crazy

A pal of mine just got back from Italy. He took some interesting snaps.

Italian Graffiti, chav style:

Plenty of sausage:

Nice. Cheers BGA.

Supermarket Scam

We all get these bloody email forwards, but this one is not a scam, an urban legend or anything else. Be warned!

If you shop at Tesco, but this may be useful to know. I am posting this to you to warn you of something that happened to me, as I have become a victim of a clever scam while out shopping. This happened to me at Tescos in Gateshead and it could happen to you.

Here’s how the scam works:

Two seriously good-looking 18-year-old girls come over to your car as you are packing your shopping in the boot. They both start wiping your windscreen with a rag and Windolene, with their breasts almost falling out of their skimpy t-shirts.

It is impossible not to look. When you thank them and offer them a tip, they say ‘No’ and instead ask you for a ride to another Tesco ( in this case Kingston Park ). You agree and they get in the back seat. On the way, they start having sex with each other. Then one of them climbs over into the front seat and performs oral sex on you, while the other one steals your wallet.

I had my wallet stolen last Tuesday, Wednesday, twice on Thursday, again on Saturday, and also yesterday.

Beware!

Relief efforts for Hurricane Katrina

Why it took so long to help victims of Hurrican Katrina.

(found at ChrisVsChris)

Movie Review #100

The 100th review in my movies section is now up: The Assassination of Richard Nixon. Shame it was such a pants film for such a momentous occasion.

I love this joke

Hung Chow calls to work and says, “Hey Boss, I not come workie today. I rearrie sick. I got headache, stomachache, and my regs hurt. I no come work.”

The Boss says, “You know, Hung Chow, I really need you today. When I feel that way, I go to my wife and tell her to give me s*x. That makes everything better and I go to work. You try that.”

Two hours later, Hung Chow calls again. “Boss. I do what you say and I feer rearrie great. I be work soon… You got nice house.

Add them to your linkroll

They really should have given these more thought…

1) WhoRepresents? A database for agencies to the rich and famous:
http://www.WhorePresents.com

2) ExpertsExchange, a knowledge base where programmers can exchange advice and views:
http://www.ExpertSexChange.com

3) Looking for a pen? Look no further than PenIsland:
http://www.PenisLand.net

4) Looking for a Therapist? Look no further than TherapistFinder
http://www.TheRapistFinder.com

5) MoleStationNursery, based in New South Wales:
http://www.MolestationNursery.com

6) GasHeating for your home anyone?
http://www.GashEating.co.uk

7) Want to get electricity in Italy, how about PowerGenItalia?
http://www.PowerGenitalia.com/

Couple months late, but nevermind

I was going through some old emails and came across this. It’s pure quality and deserved posting. In memory of Ronnie Barker. RIP. This was originally shown on BBC TV back in the seventies. Ronnie Barker could say all this without a snigger (though god knows how many takes). Irony is that they received not one complaint. The speed of delivery must have been too much for the whining herds. Try getting through it without converting the spoonerisms [and not wetting your pants] as you read …

This is the story of Rindercella and her sugly isters. Rindercella and her sugly isters lived in a marge lansion. Rindercella worked very hard frubbing sloors, emptying poss pits, and shivelling shot. At the end of the day, she was knucking fackered.

The sugly isters were right bugly astards. One was called Mary Hinge, and the other was called Betty Swallocks; they were really forrible huckers; they had fetty sweet and fetty swannies. The sugly isters had tickets to go to the ball, but the cotton runts would not let Rindercella go.

Suddenly there was a bucking fang, and her gairy fodmother appeared. Her name was Shairy Hithole and she was a light rucking fesbian. She turned a pumpkin and six mite wice into a hucking cuge farriage with six dandy ronkeys who had buge hollocks and dig bicks. The gairy fodmother told Rindercella to be back by dimnlight otherwise, there would be a cucking falamity.

At the ball, Rindercella was dancing with the prandsome hince when suddenly the clock struck twelve. “Mist all chucking frighty!!!” said Rindercella, and she ran out tripping barse over ollocks, so dropping her slass glipper.

The very next day the prandsome hince knocked on Rindercella’s door and the sugly isters let him in. Suddenly, Betty Swallocks lifted her leg and let off a fig bart. “Who’s fust jarted??” asked the prandsome hince.

“Blame that fugly ucker over there!!” said Mary Hinge. When the stinking brown cloud had lifted, he tried the slass glipper on both the sugly isters without success and their feet stucking funk. Betty Swallocks was ducking fisgusted and gave the prandsome hince a knack in the kickers. This was not difficult as he had bucking fuge halls and a hig bard on.

He tried the slass glipper on Rindercella and it fitted pucking ferfectly. Rindercella and the prandsome hince were married. The pransome hince lived his life in lucking fuxury, and Rindercella lived hers with a follen swanny.