Profile for de do ron ron:
So... here I am, there you are. Kettles on. Fancy a cuppa? Been a long day at the coalface. Now tis time to close the curtains and put another log on the fire - unless it's summer in which case better get the window (not the one the burgler got through last September) open.
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So... here I am, there you are. Kettles on. Fancy a cuppa? Been a long day at the coalface. Now tis time to close the curtains and put another log on the fire - unless it's summer in which case better get the window (not the one the burgler got through last September) open.
Recent front page messages:
none
Best answers to questions:
» Sacked
The sack
I've had many forms of employment some more long lasting than others, many times I've jumped b4 I was pushed, however, some time ago I was accused of Gross Misconduct and shown the door at a company I'd slaved at for 7 years.
At the meeting I had the distinct impression the dude who was giving me the big heave was either gonna sock me or have a heart attack as he delivered his message of doom. - with a purple face, spittle flying from his gob and volume rising to a strangled scream.
I couldn't help but keep a little bit excited at my future prospects hearing the charge against me.
Had I been caught with me fingers in the till?
- No...
Had I been porking the bosses wife or daughter?
- No...
I'd got married, (time off)
Wife had an ectopic pregnancy, ( time off)
Got pneumonia, (time off)
So my crime was not being there very much, tisc tisk. I went n saw a solicitor and as I had thought, the company was gonna have to settle me with some folding stuff and indeedee they eventually did.
(Wed 1st Mar 2006, 18:42, More)
The sack
I've had many forms of employment some more long lasting than others, many times I've jumped b4 I was pushed, however, some time ago I was accused of Gross Misconduct and shown the door at a company I'd slaved at for 7 years.
At the meeting I had the distinct impression the dude who was giving me the big heave was either gonna sock me or have a heart attack as he delivered his message of doom. - with a purple face, spittle flying from his gob and volume rising to a strangled scream.
I couldn't help but keep a little bit excited at my future prospects hearing the charge against me.
Had I been caught with me fingers in the till?
- No...
Had I been porking the bosses wife or daughter?
- No...
I'd got married, (time off)
Wife had an ectopic pregnancy, ( time off)
Got pneumonia, (time off)
So my crime was not being there very much, tisc tisk. I went n saw a solicitor and as I had thought, the company was gonna have to settle me with some folding stuff and indeedee they eventually did.
(Wed 1st Mar 2006, 18:42, More)
» Shoplifting
fingered... but... never again...
It started with the cunnung plan to buy a bottle of wine, fine, that bit was easy.
Nip into Tescos scuttle along to the offee section, grab head for the checkout, doddle.
Thinks, no way of opening it, what to do??? I know! Further cunning plan, knick an opener from Woolies.
(Put on invisibility cloak here would have been a real life saver) There they are, pick one up,scoot, but wait, pounding footsteps, a sense of being followed, faster! Too late!
Collared by store security. Wait in dingy basement room for what seems eternity.
Feds arrive, they are with jolly store tec, who's especially happy cos it wasn't one opener, two got lifted virtually simulaneously. There was me; spotty, longhaired student, and a gentleman of indeterminate age, who looked like his address was a piss filled doorway.
Off to the cop shop. No Nee Naw Nee Naw though.
The feds comiserate, "If it weren't for him, they gesture, we'd a' let you off".
Stand behind the line, searched, however, not searched are my footware, monstrously uncool leather sandles- no socks at least. While riding in the cop car I had taken the itsy bitsy perspex dope box out of my pocket and bunged in my instep.
Off to the cells, brought a whole new meaning to clink, as the hidden article sounded as we made our way to "MY CELL". An opportunity to consider the implications and consequences of my foul deed.
However, when the jailer turned his key to incarserate me he found it didn't work. "No bars will hold me!" thinks I.
Eventually after a "cooling off" or "lets see what we can find out about this person" session I was allowed to leave the police station (Choo-Choo)with the wine I had been given back,that evening did the wine and blow.
Neither really did it for me, nothing soothed my pain, sorrow and despair.
Court was not a cheery experience, it was miserable and I felt a right twat.
(Mon 14th Jan 2008, 0:07, More)
fingered... but... never again...
It started with the cunnung plan to buy a bottle of wine, fine, that bit was easy.
Nip into Tescos scuttle along to the offee section, grab head for the checkout, doddle.
Thinks, no way of opening it, what to do??? I know! Further cunning plan, knick an opener from Woolies.
(Put on invisibility cloak here would have been a real life saver) There they are, pick one up,scoot, but wait, pounding footsteps, a sense of being followed, faster! Too late!
Collared by store security. Wait in dingy basement room for what seems eternity.
Feds arrive, they are with jolly store tec, who's especially happy cos it wasn't one opener, two got lifted virtually simulaneously. There was me; spotty, longhaired student, and a gentleman of indeterminate age, who looked like his address was a piss filled doorway.
Off to the cop shop. No Nee Naw Nee Naw though.
The feds comiserate, "If it weren't for him, they gesture, we'd a' let you off".
Stand behind the line, searched, however, not searched are my footware, monstrously uncool leather sandles- no socks at least. While riding in the cop car I had taken the itsy bitsy perspex dope box out of my pocket and bunged in my instep.
Off to the cells, brought a whole new meaning to clink, as the hidden article sounded as we made our way to "MY CELL". An opportunity to consider the implications and consequences of my foul deed.
However, when the jailer turned his key to incarserate me he found it didn't work. "No bars will hold me!" thinks I.
Eventually after a "cooling off" or "lets see what we can find out about this person" session I was allowed to leave the police station (Choo-Choo)with the wine I had been given back,that evening did the wine and blow.
Neither really did it for me, nothing soothed my pain, sorrow and despair.
Court was not a cheery experience, it was miserable and I felt a right twat.
(Mon 14th Jan 2008, 0:07, More)