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Calling Lynne


Mrs GTD

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Well, if the wench is off, then a wrench would be a very useful birthday pressie! The age I'm going to be, I think all sorts of electrical aids might be required 😳

 

Het nemen van mijn Caterham aan Holland

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OK, sorry HM's been captured by aged parents. (Never a truer word than "They Fcuk you up, your parents")

 

The Impact Wrench is for taking your nuts off (and putting them back) think of it as an electric drill which turns your nuts.

 

The jack is for jacking off. By this I mean to get certain nuts off you will have to raise something. Apart from the obvious it may help to raise a smile if you raise the car. This is what the jack does.

For some unknown reason thses things get the male as excited as a semi naked female lying legs akimbo across a bed!

 

I think he's put himself down (or should that be UP) for one anyway.

 

Norman Verona, 1989 BDR 220bhp, Reg: B16BDR, Mem No 2166, the full story here

You and your seven to The French Blatting Company Limited

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They f*ck you up, your mum and dad.

They may not mean to, but they do.

They fill you with the faults they had

And add some extra, just for you.

 

But they were f*cked up in their turn

By fools in old-style hats and coats,

Who half the time were soppy-stern

And half at one another's throats.

 

Man hands on misery to man.

It deepens like a coastal shelf.

Get out as early as you can,

And don't have any kids yourself

 

😬

 

Mrs GTD - Lady of Leisure

 

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Well that set a somber mood for the day...

 

 

Dear Mr Wogan,

 

Please may I reccomend Mrs GTD for the Thought for the Day section at 9.15.

As she is a Lady of Leeeeeeeeshore I feel her insights would set the tone for the day

 

Yours

Nickolas Nunns

 

 

 

Big ISSSSSSSUUUUUUE, Get your BIG ISSSSSSSSSUE

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This any better Delbert 🤔

 

Side by side, their faces blurred,

The earl and countess lie in stone,

Their proper habits vaguely shown

As jointed armour, stiffened pleat,

And that faint hint of the absurd -

The little dogs under their feet.

 

Such plainness of the pre-baroque

Hardly involves the eye, until

It meets his left-hand gauntlet, still

Clasped empty in the other; and

One sees, with a sharp tender shock,

His hand withdrawn, holding her hand.

 

They would not think to lie so long.

Such faithfulness in effigy

Was just a detail friends would see:

A sculptor's sweet commissioned grace

Thrown off in helping to prolong

The Latin names around the base.

 

They would not guess how early in

Their supine stationary voyage

The air would change to soundless damage,

Turn the old tenantry away;

How soon succeeding eyes begin

To look, not read. Rigidly, they

 

Persisted, linked, through lengths and breadths

Of time. Snow fell, undated. Light

Each summer thronged the glass. A bright

Litter of birdcalls strewed the same

Bone-riddled ground. And up the paths

The endless altered people came,

 

Washing at their identity.

Now, helpless in the hollow of

An unarmorial age, a trough

Of smoke in slow suspended skeins

Above their scrap of history,

Only an attitude remains:

 

Time has transfigured them into

Untruth. The stone fidelity

They hardly meant has come to be

Their final blazon, and to prove

Our almost-instinct almost true:

What will survive of us is love.

 

 

 

Mrs GTD - Lady of Leisure

 

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"The age I'm going to be, I think all sorts of electrical aids might be required "

 

You need to start with a couple of lolly sticks and some elastic bands, they make fine splints *thumbup*

 

PS You don't look 50 GTD, and anyway your joint birfdee with your twin Arnold isn't until October

 

Supercheese R250

 

Caterham pictures here 😬

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