Answers Arent At The Back

Friday, September 28, 2007

Give Quiche A Chance...

Sorry Gimboids, I'm a bit depressed today... I've just received notice that 'Red Dwarf' the movie has been shelved :o////

SMEG! The Holly Hop Drive has failed...

No more Dwain Dibbly, Bon voyage to Curry Nites (Every night was curry nite!), and hasta la vista to Ace Rimmer...

But at least, thanks to You Tube, we can still enjoy :o)

Better Smeg than Dead... :o)

Ciao Ciao
Confused From Cambridge
I BLOG There4 I Am

4Comments:

Sublime said...: Fletch,

Ol' Chap! It's been too long... Feel like going for a drink or 10?

Feeling your red dwarf pain :)

Just poking my head in to say hello and that I'm still alive.

Take care,
Sublime; 2:23 pm
Anonymous said...: Dont worry old man, one of my pressies (not that you sent one!)was the full pack of Monty Pythons films & extras so when you are back home again we can have a Python nite with a curry delivered.
It should ease the pain a little

Hang in there dude! we dont want you going all bike again!!; 5:25 pm
Felicia the Geeky Blogger said...: Really weird American here but I never heard of Red Dwarf, that clip was really funny. We don't get to many BBC shows over here...right now we have Torchwood, Dr. Who, and Jekyll on BBC America. The comedies are older. The soaps are Footballer's wives and the Jr. Version I think ( I don't watch either). I will have to get my hands on a full episode of Red Dwarf so I can watch it :); 3:21 am
Fletch said...: Sub... Your alive! :o)

BB... Curry and Python night, what more could a guy want! :o))

Flea... Trust me here, your life is empty without Red Dward... (Gets really good from S.3 onwards, but you need to watch the first 2 to get into it...); 8:57 am

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**********

D: "Where is everybody, Hol?"
H: "They're dead, Dave."
D: "Who is?"
H: "Everybody, Dave."
D: "What, Captain Hollister?"
H: "Everybody's dead, Dave."
D: "What, Todhunter?"
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H: "They're all dead. Everybody's dead, Dave."
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**********

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The details of my life are quite inconsequential... very well, where do I begin? My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. My mother was a fifteen year old French prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet. My father would womanize, he would drink. He would make outrageous claims like he invented the question mark. Sometimes he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy. The sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament. My childhood was typical. Summers in Rangoon, luge lessons. In the spring we'd make meat helmets. When I was insolent I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds- pretty standard really. At the age of twelve I received my first scribe. At the age of fourteen a Zoroastrian named Vilma ritualistically shaved my testicles. There really is nothing like a shorn scrotum... it's breathtaking- I highly suggest you try it.

**********

Love comes when manipulation stops. When you think more about the other person than about his or her reaction to you. When you dare to reveal yourself fully. When you dare to be vulnerable.

Friday, September 28, 2007

Give Quiche A Chance...

4Comments:

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