Dingles to unveil huge flag of Kes saying si thi at BDTBL
- Thread starter Ollessendro
- Start date
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super_pig
Well-Known Member
this deserves my favourite joke..
they'd thought about making CSI Barnsley but realised it wouldn't be feasable
they'd thought about making CSI Barnsley but realised it wouldn't be feasable
sothall blade
Active Member
yeah ! its not pink,its salmon and all that :thumbup:
---------- Post added at 07:28 PM ---------- Previous post was at 07:27 PM ----------
just like leeds all over again :thumbup:
Muttley
Well-Known Member
i luv me fags n I luv me bitter, I read nuts magazine when I'm on the shitter...
stereotypical pissed up dad....
I have to laugh every time I hear it.
stereotypical pissed up dad....
I have to laugh every time I hear it.
Russ
Ladies. For a good time ring 07939...
oh shit, when I read the first sentance I thought we had just signed him.
well i heard they were going to make the movie " birth of christ" in barnsley but had to give it up because they couldnt find 3 wise men and a virgin.
as for making CSI there, problem was no locals could spell it
why do little girls from barnsley push week old kippers down thier knickers?
so they can smell like BIG girls from barnsley.
whats got an I.Q. of 153?
Barnsley.
what do you call a barnsley lad in a shirt and tie?
the Accused.
definition of confusion?
fathers day in barnsley.
MunXy
as for making CSI there, problem was no locals could spell it
why do little girls from barnsley push week old kippers down thier knickers?
so they can smell like BIG girls from barnsley.
whats got an I.Q. of 153?
Barnsley.
what do you call a barnsley lad in a shirt and tie?
the Accused.
definition of confusion?
fathers day in barnsley.
MunXy
PeterNdlovu081
COCK PISS PARTRIDGE
well i heard they were going to make the movie " birth of christ" in barnsley but had to give it up because they couldnt find 3 wise men and a virgin.
as for making CSI there, problem was no locals could spell it
why do little girls from barnsley push week old kippers down thier knickers?
so they can smell like BIG girls from barnsley.
whats got an I.Q. of 153?
Barnsley.
what do you call a barnsley lad in a shirt and tie?
the Accused.
definition of confusion?
fathers day in barnsley.
MunXy
I'm a Barnsley Lad and I have an IQ of 146. They should make me mayor or something seeing as I make up 95% of the intelligence of the town.
Sean the Blade
Member
Speaking of CSI
Something I penned a while ago:
CSI Barnsley
The polished brass bell rang angrily, Detective Inspector Mark Bobbins jumped from his seat and lifted the bakerlite ear-horn from its cradle, placed it to his ear and spoke into the conical mouthpiece “Churchfield Police, Bobbins of our back yard speaking”
“Police, Police, tha’s got ter come, it terrible, terrible. Ahm tellin thi, that bloody Kes ‘as struck agean! Ahm so distraught I can’t go on, ‘ere mother thee tell ‘im”.
A woman’s voice took over “Mester Bobbins, our Jarvis ‘as just got back from Oakwell, there’s been another murder. Body’s in’t centre circle, tha’d best get thissen down ‘ere afore kids put some wheels on it and start pushin at rahnd 'oyle Mill”
Bobbins replaced the ear-horn, pulled on his bob-hat and his pit boots, then made his way to the garage. He hopped through the door, past the “Have you remembered your bicycle clips?” sign, and jumped on the nearest push bike.
The heavy iron frame groaned in protest as it overcame the massive inertial drag, Bobbins’ legs burned as he began to gain speed, the cobbles rattled his spine. He knew if he could accumulate enough momentum down Market Hill, he would be able to coast over Jumble Lane crossing (as long as it was open) and down Pontefract Road.
Bobbins met his assistant, Breckin, on the track which edged the pitch “Is it bad?” he asked. “It looks fairly straight forrad ter me sir, but the referee said the body just fell aht er’t sky”
“Lets have a look then” Bobbins steeled himself “Tha’ll need this sir” Breckin handed him a stick, recently broken from a tree on Pontefract Road. In the centre circle Bobbins lowered his eyes to the cold, stiff corpse. The feathers gently ruffled in the cold night air “So its definitely a pigeon then?”
“Aye it is, ave checked the ring aht, its from a loft in Elsecar” Bobbins turned the bird over, using the stick “No signs of trauma, we can rule out Kes. Were there any witnesses?”
“No, there were a match on, so the place were empty, everybody’s at ‘ome listening ter ‘Fish-a-mania’ on’t wireless”
The vet, Mr Herriot, solemly placed the dead bird in a shoe box (clarkes, only the best), and took it to his van “I want a full autopsy vet, full tox screen, the lot, something killed this pigoen and I intend to find out what”
“Found anything yet?” Bobbins asked the crime scene investigator.
“Well, sir we have traces of lager, aftershave, a copy of The Telegraph and this… It looks like a tea bag, but it smells like mint”
“Lager, cologne, Telegraph, and now herbal tea. We’re looking for a southerner! Shut Town End roundabout and mount a checkpoint on the southbound ramp of the M1 at Dodworth, tell em to aprehend any posh folk travelling south”
“The autopsy’s back sir, bad news I’m afraid, nothing, the pigeon died of natural causes, a ‘eart attack”
“Fit, active pigeons don’t just fall out of the sky Breckin, there has to be something more. This bird fell in the centre circle, the killer must’ve been trying to send a message”
“Pigeon? Ter send a message? And folk say we’re backwards!”
A constable broke Breckin’s incredulity “Sir, we’ve arrested a southerner on the M1, he tried ter trick us by getting on at Birdwell, but we were too good fer ‘im. He’s in’t custody sweeet nah”.
“Tell us what tha did wi that pigeon?!” yelled Breckin at the hapless southerner “Or we’ll start water boarding thi! Then it’ll be’t gas board and the electric board, they can write nasty letters! Tha mite think tha can fool us wi thi posh ironed trousers and thi real leather shoes, but we’re no mugs”
“I-I work for a pet food manufacturer, I was testing new new high protein pigeon food, how was I to know that no-one, NOTHING has eaten protein up here for generations! It was a mistake, I was only trying to do good!”
“Well it looks like your good intentions have flown the coop.” said Bobbins “Book him Breckin, pigeon-slaughter two, we’ll put him before the court of public opinion, a week Saturday, at half-time during the Forrest match”
“But, aren’t there supposed to be at least twelve men in a jury sir????”
Something I penned a while ago:
CSI Barnsley
The polished brass bell rang angrily, Detective Inspector Mark Bobbins jumped from his seat and lifted the bakerlite ear-horn from its cradle, placed it to his ear and spoke into the conical mouthpiece “Churchfield Police, Bobbins of our back yard speaking”
“Police, Police, tha’s got ter come, it terrible, terrible. Ahm tellin thi, that bloody Kes ‘as struck agean! Ahm so distraught I can’t go on, ‘ere mother thee tell ‘im”.
A woman’s voice took over “Mester Bobbins, our Jarvis ‘as just got back from Oakwell, there’s been another murder. Body’s in’t centre circle, tha’d best get thissen down ‘ere afore kids put some wheels on it and start pushin at rahnd 'oyle Mill”
Bobbins replaced the ear-horn, pulled on his bob-hat and his pit boots, then made his way to the garage. He hopped through the door, past the “Have you remembered your bicycle clips?” sign, and jumped on the nearest push bike.
The heavy iron frame groaned in protest as it overcame the massive inertial drag, Bobbins’ legs burned as he began to gain speed, the cobbles rattled his spine. He knew if he could accumulate enough momentum down Market Hill, he would be able to coast over Jumble Lane crossing (as long as it was open) and down Pontefract Road.
Bobbins met his assistant, Breckin, on the track which edged the pitch “Is it bad?” he asked. “It looks fairly straight forrad ter me sir, but the referee said the body just fell aht er’t sky”
“Lets have a look then” Bobbins steeled himself “Tha’ll need this sir” Breckin handed him a stick, recently broken from a tree on Pontefract Road. In the centre circle Bobbins lowered his eyes to the cold, stiff corpse. The feathers gently ruffled in the cold night air “So its definitely a pigeon then?”
“Aye it is, ave checked the ring aht, its from a loft in Elsecar” Bobbins turned the bird over, using the stick “No signs of trauma, we can rule out Kes. Were there any witnesses?”
“No, there were a match on, so the place were empty, everybody’s at ‘ome listening ter ‘Fish-a-mania’ on’t wireless”
The vet, Mr Herriot, solemly placed the dead bird in a shoe box (clarkes, only the best), and took it to his van “I want a full autopsy vet, full tox screen, the lot, something killed this pigoen and I intend to find out what”
“Found anything yet?” Bobbins asked the crime scene investigator.
“Well, sir we have traces of lager, aftershave, a copy of The Telegraph and this… It looks like a tea bag, but it smells like mint”
“Lager, cologne, Telegraph, and now herbal tea. We’re looking for a southerner! Shut Town End roundabout and mount a checkpoint on the southbound ramp of the M1 at Dodworth, tell em to aprehend any posh folk travelling south”
“The autopsy’s back sir, bad news I’m afraid, nothing, the pigeon died of natural causes, a ‘eart attack”
“Fit, active pigeons don’t just fall out of the sky Breckin, there has to be something more. This bird fell in the centre circle, the killer must’ve been trying to send a message”
“Pigeon? Ter send a message? And folk say we’re backwards!”
A constable broke Breckin’s incredulity “Sir, we’ve arrested a southerner on the M1, he tried ter trick us by getting on at Birdwell, but we were too good fer ‘im. He’s in’t custody sweeet nah”.
“Tell us what tha did wi that pigeon?!” yelled Breckin at the hapless southerner “Or we’ll start water boarding thi! Then it’ll be’t gas board and the electric board, they can write nasty letters! Tha mite think tha can fool us wi thi posh ironed trousers and thi real leather shoes, but we’re no mugs”
“I-I work for a pet food manufacturer, I was testing new new high protein pigeon food, how was I to know that no-one, NOTHING has eaten protein up here for generations! It was a mistake, I was only trying to do good!”
“Well it looks like your good intentions have flown the coop.” said Bobbins “Book him Breckin, pigeon-slaughter two, we’ll put him before the court of public opinion, a week Saturday, at half-time during the Forrest match”
“But, aren’t there supposed to be at least twelve men in a jury sir????”
bendylegs
Member
boy from BARNSLEY 16 years of age comes home grinning and tells his parents he,s just had sex for the first time, proud dad says i,ll buy you that bike to celibrate, have to be next pay day though, boy, smiles, and says that,s ok dad my ARSE is to sore to ride it anyway
super_pig
Well-Known Member
>as for making CSI there, problem was no locals could spell it
hmm no it is because the dna tests would be inconclusive (seeing as they are all inbred their dna would be too similar).. don't tell me noone got this.. honestly
hmm no it is because the dna tests would be inconclusive (seeing as they are all inbred their dna would be too similar).. don't tell me noone got this.. honestly
Now THIS is a flag..................
http://www.fsf.org.uk/news/Penarols-jaw-dropping-fans-flag.php?id=
http://www.fsf.org.uk/news/Penarols-jaw-dropping-fans-flag.php?id=
apmeds
New Member
Looking at your spelling you ain't wrong
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