Monkeys Fist

Shame we couldn’t bury any of the chances, but a decent showing for the opener.

I know they’re down to 10 beiges, but coming away from here on the opening day with a point isn’t too shabby, given the fuckery that’s gone on off the pitch lately. I fucking hate Villa mind.

Is that thing actually hanging off the roof? I thought it was just photoshopped on, until I saw the two little heads looking over the edge of the roof. Have they realised they’re just shit at flags, or bits of tin foil in their case, and given up. ( Just heard that Wilson is on the West Ham bench, how sweet would it be if he scored the winner off his wheelchair )

Miley coming in to chaw the living fuck out of any cheeky Villa cunt that wants his go.

Still time to get 5 here lads.

Nice to see Willy Storey posting shots of his home again…

TP on the left, Craig on the right.

Have you hacked Gemmill’s holiday album? Bad craic that mate.

Red Bull Clips Your Fucking Wings.

Reported. Lacism.

CT still hasn’t sussed NSFW privileges on his parental settings. Three fucking weeks!

Disappointed Joelinton didn’t yell his out Matt Ritchie style.

For those of you struggling.…

@Holden McGroin, is this woman called Vicky by any chance?

I’d wash them first, at least one member of her family has probably crammed them up an orifice.

Was just eating some bait in Thurrock, the most miserable of all the services, when 4 tubby fuckers , obviously on a hen do, wobbled their way to the table opposite me. Was just about to increase my misery-wallowing when they all screeched and what was clearly the Hen of the do bounced up to the table, fit as a butchers dog, silver hot pants, and what looked like a couple of handkerchiefs hanging off her neck as a top. Misery averted. She had a tray piled high with trough for the bushpigs, and as she stared dishing it out, she bent over and her glorious, unfettered, ski-jump chebs made their presence known, to me, but clearly not to her She was either woefully unaware that her fantastic puppies were jiggling their way out every time she dished out the pig food, which she did one item at a time, or she didn’t give a shit. Either way, laser eyes were locked in and bank deposits were successful. Amazing how a pair of unexpected tiddies can change the mood Just to make sure you lads understand this, we’re not talking a fleeting glimpse of more than the usual amount of upper boob. These were absolutely A1, top notch ski-jump tiddies, with nips like a rabbits nose, unfettered by such trifles as a bra, flinging themselves about with utter abandon in a top as structurallly sound as one of Wykiki’s old employer’s bridges, belonging to a fit lass with as much bodily awareness as Luke Onion on a match day. Like diamonds in a field of shite

Aye, 10km in a morning sounds a lot but it’s basically a mildly vigorous float. When I worked as a guide the easiest days were when you got 2 “mini” descents, one a.m. one p.m. 8-10km in the morning, 2-3hrs lunch in the local outdoor grill bar, bob down the same stretch in the afternoon. Done, dusted and back in the bar by 4:30 usually

Have you had a crack at canoeing on the river? Top notch, and so easy to hop in the water for a cool off too.

One of my favourite ever rope jobs was when we did the slanted glass roof of the Gallowgate concourse bar area. Had to go up on the roof of the stand, abseil down from the steelwork, then set up traversal rigging to get along the top of the glass roof. Also hung banners off it for the Olympics.

Understandable PTSD can affect brain function.

Mackems taking our cast-offs once again. You’d think they’d learn it never works out well for them…

They’ll be the great grandsons

You sure it’s not Cornuto? “Rodeo” would be a much better fit for that, what with all the bucking and riding massive bulls and what have you Anyway, I guess that shot was taking from the room, with you lying face down, aka The Recovery Position.