@Melesshuffle
Account based inUnited Kingdom
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Jaffa Cakes are just shit biscuits, Guinness is crappy keg beer and The Beatles were awful. These are all facts and I don't care about your opinion.
Old Hampshire
Joined September 2012
- Tweets8.4K
- Following343
- Followers146
- Likes9.2K
For 2 weeks I had to use eye drops 4 times a day, and this regime caused me no issues. Now it's cut down to 3 times a day and I'm stuffed. Do I remember the one in the middle of the day? No, no I don't. I've had to set a sodding alarm.
Melesshuffle retweeted
“God” could tear the sky open tomorrow, appear in front of me and prove beyond doubt that he exists. My first response still wouldn’t be to get on my fucking knees.
If the gods described in Christianity, Islam, Judaism or any other holy book were proven real tomorrow, belief stops being the question. Cool, you exist. Now explain why the fuck I should worship you.
Because some of these gods, as described, are vicious, petty, jealous and cruel. I’m not bowing, praising or surrendering my life just because something powerful exists.
Being real might earn acknowledgement. It doesn’t earn my respect.
Just found myself using the phrase "I'm not sure I can explain this in a simpler manner without the use of Fuzzy Felt" in a work email and I think I may need to go for a walk.
5th of fucking October and a house in my village is all decorated up for halloween. This is going to irritate me far more than it should for the next few weeks.
Melesshuffle retweeted
Suella Braverman, consider Walter Tull.
Born in Folkestone to an English mother and a Barbadian father. A footballer for Tottenham Hotspur and Northampton Town. A British Army officer who led soldiers into battle and was killed serving his country in 1918.
If your definition of Englishness excludes a man like him, it is your definition that needs challenging.
Easy. Iain Banks. Loved his work and still have his last novel unread as I know it'll be the last time I read any new stuff from him. Might like it, might not - it was part of the joy of a new Banks book.
Thanks to @huwharries for introducing me to him.
Most people would be embarrassed if, as a grown adult, they're unable to master drinking out of a fucking bottle. But not Tom. Tom gladly prostitutes his ineptitude, as each click generates an infinitesimal amount of cash and this means more to him than self respect.
The Man City malarkey has left me in a quandary. On the one hand I don't give a flying fuck about football, but a hard penalty would really piss the fucking Gallagher brothers off, so there is that.
I fucking love mornings like this. Bright and sunny with pockets of mist and a nip to it. Promise of Autumn.
Vaguely bemused about how the absolute fuck the tacky '87 version can be considered superior to... anything at all really.
While I'm enjoying being able to see properly for the first time in my life, I now realise something that my previous blur-O-vision had kept me blissfully ignorant of. Fuck me, my windows are in need of a clean.
In Reading of a Saturday morning. Two old guys chatting on the benches outside The Alehouse. Doors bang open at 11 and they're beered-up by 11:02. Makes you proud to be British.
I had an eye op yesterday, and my eyes are now extremely sensitive to light. This weekend at least I will be wearing sunglasses indoors like a wanker.
My laundry basket probably cost a tenner about 15 years ago and it's clearly got another 15 years left in it. What the fuck do you people do to your laundry baskets that you don't expect them to last effectively for ever?
I've lived my entire life in areas where this is labelled as Morning Roll, and I can categorically say that this is the first time I've heard the term.
I do love morning dog walks in the Summer, when it's sunny and dry and warm, but there's something special about early autumn walks.
