One of my favourite men in the world is from Kirmington, Lincolnshire – Guy Martin. Please tell me you guys talk like him because that’s how I’m reading the last few posts. Or am I miles out?
@curly – Yup, that’s pretty close to how I speak although just a smidgeon broader, it drives the sheep wild, “ay up yer wully sod, tha’s lucking well bonny t’neet”
I’ve got a broader accent and deeper voice than that bike riding fellow. Imagine an asthmatic, bronchial buffalo growling expletives coarsely into your ear and you’re not a million miles away.
We Yorkshire men may be habitual rapists but we do it in such an endearingly sexy English way that our victims tend to forgive us.
Ahh childhood.. innocence… eternal summers.. a carefree life spent at constant play.. gambolling down meadows of emerald green grass… touching my cousins one by one, until they cried.
I was raised on a diet of spite and was often forced into listening to Des O’Conners’ Greatest Hits repeatedly on Weekends.
It’s a fucking miracle I turned out to be such a well balanced and morally sound person to be honest.
Good to see you, Miss. I’m nostalgic for many of the people mentioned here (and others), too. I think we all know the Lamebook is on its last legs, but hopefully, there’s still some of us who’ll keep visiting until it’s all over.
Deal and by ‘girl’, I take it you mean crack-ridden whore with a penchant for farmyard animals?
Yes, basically any girl from Barnsley.
One of my favourite men in the world is from Kirmington, Lincolnshire – Guy Martin. Please tell me you guys talk like him because that’s how I’m reading the last few posts. Or am I miles out?
Yeah, a crack whore/sheep mix rapist talking in that sexy English way is even more disturbing/interesting to imagine
@curly – Yup, that’s pretty close to how I speak although just a smidgeon broader, it drives the sheep wild, “ay up yer wully sod, tha’s lucking well bonny t’neet”
Even broader = even better! I’m reading them all like that from now on. Happy days hahaha. Thank you 🙂
I’ve got a broader accent and deeper voice than that bike riding fellow. Imagine an asthmatic, bronchial buffalo growling expletives coarsely into your ear and you’re not a million miles away.
We Yorkshire men may be habitual rapists but we do it in such an endearingly sexy English way that our victims tend to forgive us.
@ Paranoid Android – I’m sorry, but in addition, I can’t help but to “hear” you sounding a bit depressed in my mind.
Still, great fun…
@ mofo – Really, you sound delicious. How about you being the victim for once? And I don’t really care if you say no…
‘victim for once?’
That better be a bloody joke! I’ve been raped more times than Paranoids’ sheep has.
I hate you Uncle Ken and you Dad.
growling expletives in my ear FTW lol
Say “bloody” again. I like that
And then let’s revisit your childhood
Animal cruelty is bad, though. Leave the poor sheep alone. Tsk…
Ahh childhood.. innocence… eternal summers.. a carefree life spent at constant play.. gambolling down meadows of emerald green grass… touching my cousins one by one, until they cried.
I was raised on a diet of spite and was often forced into listening to Des O’Conners’ Greatest Hits repeatedly on Weekends.
It’s a fucking miracle I turned out to be such a well balanced and morally sound person to be honest.
Good to see you, Miss. I’m nostalgic for many of the people mentioned here (and others), too. I think we all know the Lamebook is on its last legs, but hopefully, there’s still some of us who’ll keep visiting until it’s all over.
I’ll dance as best I can…
@word – don’t say that! I don’t want it to end! Some of you guys crack me up. Maybe we could find another playground.
lame.