So It's Friday 13th
Moderator: Zulus Thousand of em
So It's Friday 13th
So who has been unlucky or know somebody who has been unlucky?
My housemate has to take his friend to the hosiptal this morning at around 1 as somebody had spiked her drink.
He then had to go back because he sliced his hand open between his thumb and finger. He could see the bone
I forgot that I parked in a hour only zone and got a £30 parking fine
My housemate has to take his friend to the hosiptal this morning at around 1 as somebody had spiked her drink.
He then had to go back because he sliced his hand open between his thumb and finger. He could see the bone

I forgot that I parked in a hour only zone and got a £30 parking fine

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The Battle Of Hastings
I'll tell of the Battle of Hastings,
As happened in days long gone by,
When Duke William became King of England,
And 'arold got shot in the eye.
It were like this: one day in October,
The Duke, who were always a toff,
Had no battles on at the moment,
So he'd given his lads the day off.
They'd got out their boats to go fishing,
When one said in't Conqueror's ear,
'Let's go and put wind up't Saxons'
Bill said, 'By gum that's an idea.'
Then turning around to his cohorts,
He lifted his big Norman voice,
Shouting, 'Hands up who's coming to England.'
They knew they had no choice.
They set off around about tea-time,
The sea was very calm and still,
And at quarter to ten the next morning,
They arrived at a place called Bexhill.
King Harold rode up as they landed,
His face full of venom and 'ate,
He said, 'If you've come for t'regatta,
You've got here six weeks too late.
At this William rose, cool but 'aughty,
And said, 'Now give us none of yer cheek,
You'd best have your throne re-upholstered
'cos I'll want to use it next week.'
When 'arold 'eard this 'ere defiance,
With rage he turned purple and blue,
He shouted some rude words in Saxon,
To which William replied, 'and you too.'
'Twere a beautiful day for a battle,
The Normans set off with a will
And when both sides were assembled,
They tossed for the top of the 'ill.
King 'arold won the advantage,
On the 'ill top he took up 'is stand,
With his knaves and his cads all around 'im,
On 'is 'orse with 'is 'awk on 'is 'and.
The Normans 'ad nowt in their favour,
Their chance of victory seemed small,
For the slope of the field was agen 'em,
And the wind in their faces an' all.
The kick-off was sharp at two thirty,
And soon as the whistle 'ad went,
Both sides started slamming each other,
Till the swineherds could hear 'em in Kent.
The Saxons 'ad best line o' forwards,
Well armed with both buckler and sword,
But the Normans 'ad best combination,
So at half time - neither had scored.
The Duke called his cohorts together,
And said, 'Let's pretend that we're beat,
Let's get Saxons down on't level,
Then cut off their means of retreat.
So they ran, and the Saxons ran after,
Just exactly as William had planned,
Leaving 'arold alone on the 'ill top,
On 'is 'orse with 'is 'awk on 'is 'and.
When the Conqueror saw what had happened,
A bow and an arrow he drew,
He went straight up to 'arold and shot 'im,
He were off-side, but what could they do?
The Normans turned round in a fury,
And gave back both parry and thrust,
Till the battle were all o'er bar t'shouting,
And you couldn't see Saxons for dust.
Then after the battle were over,
They found 'arold so stately and grand,
Sitting there with his eye full of arrow,
On 'is 'orse with 'is 'awk on 'is 'and.
Copyright; Marriott Edgar
I'll tell of the Battle of Hastings,
As happened in days long gone by,
When Duke William became King of England,
And 'arold got shot in the eye.
It were like this: one day in October,
The Duke, who were always a toff,
Had no battles on at the moment,
So he'd given his lads the day off.
They'd got out their boats to go fishing,
When one said in't Conqueror's ear,
'Let's go and put wind up't Saxons'
Bill said, 'By gum that's an idea.'
Then turning around to his cohorts,
He lifted his big Norman voice,
Shouting, 'Hands up who's coming to England.'
They knew they had no choice.
They set off around about tea-time,
The sea was very calm and still,
And at quarter to ten the next morning,
They arrived at a place called Bexhill.
King Harold rode up as they landed,
His face full of venom and 'ate,
He said, 'If you've come for t'regatta,
You've got here six weeks too late.
At this William rose, cool but 'aughty,
And said, 'Now give us none of yer cheek,
You'd best have your throne re-upholstered
'cos I'll want to use it next week.'
When 'arold 'eard this 'ere defiance,
With rage he turned purple and blue,
He shouted some rude words in Saxon,
To which William replied, 'and you too.'
'Twere a beautiful day for a battle,
The Normans set off with a will
And when both sides were assembled,
They tossed for the top of the 'ill.
King 'arold won the advantage,
On the 'ill top he took up 'is stand,
With his knaves and his cads all around 'im,
On 'is 'orse with 'is 'awk on 'is 'and.
The Normans 'ad nowt in their favour,
Their chance of victory seemed small,
For the slope of the field was agen 'em,
And the wind in their faces an' all.
The kick-off was sharp at two thirty,
And soon as the whistle 'ad went,
Both sides started slamming each other,
Till the swineherds could hear 'em in Kent.
The Saxons 'ad best line o' forwards,
Well armed with both buckler and sword,
But the Normans 'ad best combination,
So at half time - neither had scored.
The Duke called his cohorts together,
And said, 'Let's pretend that we're beat,
Let's get Saxons down on't level,
Then cut off their means of retreat.
So they ran, and the Saxons ran after,
Just exactly as William had planned,
Leaving 'arold alone on the 'ill top,
On 'is 'orse with 'is 'awk on 'is 'and.
When the Conqueror saw what had happened,
A bow and an arrow he drew,
He went straight up to 'arold and shot 'im,
He were off-side, but what could they do?
The Normans turned round in a fury,
And gave back both parry and thrust,
Till the battle were all o'er bar t'shouting,
And you couldn't see Saxons for dust.
Then after the battle were over,
They found 'arold so stately and grand,
Sitting there with his eye full of arrow,
On 'is 'orse with 'is 'awk on 'is 'and.
Copyright; Marriott Edgar
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and that's just summed up Friday 13th for us all.CrazyHorse wrote:I'm back from a week working in Cumbria, and Sky have finally got me back on the internet after nearly two months fannying about with my connection. Today is my lucky day!
power corrupts, absolute power corrupts absolutely
kevin nolan is so fat, that when he sits around the house he sits around the house
kevin nolan is so fat, that when he sits around the house he sits around the house
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With nods of acknowlegement at Warthog's poem and Commie's excellent quip:
Twas a weary old day in October
the day couldn't make up its mind
To carry on soaking us shitless
Or let the sun shine and be kind.
On the web we all tuned to The Wanderer
for tales of what might just have been
When up stepped young Keveh from yonder
And announced "It's Friday thirteen".
"Oh shit" we all voiced with a quiver
The terrible words had been said
A loud crack of thunder did shiver
And Gertie dived under the bed.
Wild tales of disaster were quoted
And Warty went poetry historic
How Harold the sad was demoted
In a tale of war filled with rhetoric.
Blood flowed from cuts and abrasions
disaster blew planes way off course
The page was filled with sensations
And voices with woe become hoarse.
Old birthday boy Blurred Red lamented
He was stranded on some strange far isle
His pilot finally consented
He'd take off but not for a while.
He took a quick peek down the Mersey
Cos his cold heart was painted bright red
The he realised it was the wrong jersey
And landed at Ringway instead.
Noon passed without too much disaster
The sun put the world back on course
And just when the day passed a bit faster,
Who should pop up but The Horse!
Now for weeks we've had peace on the forum
All sensible chat and things tidy
The members observing decorum
Till that curse struck again on a Friday.
I never believed in old wive's tales
Of ladders and little men green
But the legend came back with a vengeance
And a Hoss on Friday thirteen.
I'll never again laugh at ladders
or say black cats don't bring bad luck
For as Commie observed so astutely
"The Hoss is back, the tale's true, Oh fxxx"

Twas a weary old day in October
the day couldn't make up its mind
To carry on soaking us shitless
Or let the sun shine and be kind.
On the web we all tuned to The Wanderer
for tales of what might just have been
When up stepped young Keveh from yonder
And announced "It's Friday thirteen".
"Oh shit" we all voiced with a quiver
The terrible words had been said
A loud crack of thunder did shiver
And Gertie dived under the bed.
Wild tales of disaster were quoted
And Warty went poetry historic
How Harold the sad was demoted
In a tale of war filled with rhetoric.
Blood flowed from cuts and abrasions
disaster blew planes way off course
The page was filled with sensations
And voices with woe become hoarse.
Old birthday boy Blurred Red lamented
He was stranded on some strange far isle
His pilot finally consented
He'd take off but not for a while.
He took a quick peek down the Mersey
Cos his cold heart was painted bright red
The he realised it was the wrong jersey
And landed at Ringway instead.
Noon passed without too much disaster
The sun put the world back on course
And just when the day passed a bit faster,
Who should pop up but The Horse!
Now for weeks we've had peace on the forum
All sensible chat and things tidy
The members observing decorum
Till that curse struck again on a Friday.
I never believed in old wive's tales
Of ladders and little men green
But the legend came back with a vengeance
And a Hoss on Friday thirteen.
I'll never again laugh at ladders
or say black cats don't bring bad luck
For as Commie observed so astutely
"The Hoss is back, the tale's true, Oh fxxx"



Si Deus pro nobis, quis contra nos?
- Bruce Rioja
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Held up for a couple of hours on the way in due to four waggons colliding on the M62 above Saddleworth, didn't get home until eight due to a waggon overturning on the M62 near Milnrow. All in all my Friday 13th misfortune is nought, unlike five poor waggon drivers (not withstanding the two on Tuesday). Just hope that they're all alright.
May the bridges I burn light your way
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