Kevin Carr's Gloves

Just had a lovely evening at West at Charing cross. A pint of Dunkel to start, then the Munich Red, then the St Mungo, then a Black and back to a Dunkel to finish. Now on the train home with young people looking at me and laughing as I am lip syncing to the Bluetones on my iPhone.

And the fact that it's called SWEGway never prompted suspicion on your behalf?

I honestly thought they were one person with two usernames.

While winds can pick up due to the lack of atmosphere you can't actually feel them. However the radiation will kill you within days.

Only in America would a politician need to pretend to be a nutter just so he can then pretend to be "redeemed by Christ" so that other nutters will vote for him. It also pales into insignificance compared to his "Joseph built the pyramids to store grain" theory.

http://www.readytogo.net/smb/threads/most-disliked-player-in-the-prem.1157640/ One person mentions Adam Johnson and is roundly ignored

How many cowies did you take while you were there?

Was that written by bsa

Unlike TGQ's cock, sans kamagra.

Spectre has to have the worst theme tune any bond has had ever.

fyp

Ian Bell needs moving on.

Still too high brow for a couple of punters on here.

fyp

This is the saddest post I have ever read on here for numerous reasons.

I thought it was 8.

£2m loss.

Have they scored from a corner?

I still don't care if we get relegated.

Was it used for violence against women though?

Fyp

Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Though wise men at their end know dark is right, Because their words had forked no lightning they Do not go gentle into that good night. Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight, And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way, Do not go gentle into that good night. Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light. And you, old Stevie, there on the sad height, Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray. Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light.