A Good Yank
New Member
Well, ain’t we all in a pickle! My momma is off work with real bad Poison Ivy, and all her skin is covered in blisters so she can’t work at the titty-bar. I asked her what she was doing rolling about in the woods with no clothes on, but she said she was hot and she lost one of her contact lenses, and that man was just helping her, and he had to stay REAL CLOSE to her cause she couldn’t see too well. Anyhow, yesterday morning she said she’d really like some boiled eggs for breakfast, and that’s how I got my hands all scalded, well, those darned eggs won’t stay under the water on their own! So I ain’t working either, and I don’t get no health benefits flippin burgers, so my travel plans are on hold for the moment.
On the plus side I got to have a look on the internet for some new jobs. I never knew how much money you can make, just working from home! Do you know I could make $100 a day just licking and sealing envelopes, I understand Joe Cole is looking for work, maybe he should apply, I ain’t seen a tongue that big since I saw Free Willy!
I was thinking that perhaps I could do some work when I came over, but I’ve seen the news and the recession is hitting you guys real hard so I don’t hold out much hope, hell, even that massive club Sheffield Wednesday had to fire their inspirational leader Lee Strafford, and he was working for free! Perhaps he should try licking envelopes, but to be honest, he looks like he’d rather eat them!
I’ve been catching up on my Sheffield culture too; I’ve watched ‘When Saturday Comes’ ‘Threads’ and I laughed my ass off when I saw ‘The Full Monty’. Robert Carlisle had me falling about every time he said a word, that has to be the worst accent since Dick Van Dyke’s in Mary Poppins! I watched the documentary ‘Threads’ in absolute horror, hell you guys used to fly a red flag on your county hall on May Day, and then those commie Russians drop a nuke on you!? But, with your true northern grit you guys just carried on as normal, as if nothing had happened. Jeez, you even turned the crater into a feature and casually called it the ‘hole in’t Road’!
I couldn’t believe the transformation by the time ‘When Saturday Comes’ was made; you’d hardly think there’d been a bomb (although I gotta say Sean Bean’s wife, Mary, looked like she’d been staring at the blast). You guys need to learn how to market shit too. I saw that Jimmy Muir worked in a brewery that brewed ‘Stones’ and the logos were a cannon or a guy hitting an anvil with a big old hammer. Now I don’t know about you, but stones, hammer, anvil, cannon… that says hangover all over it to me. If you look at Bud’s advertising, lots of girls with not many clothes… that says I’m gonna get some if I drink this beer! Go figure. Wards, that’s where you go in the hospital when you get sick, c’mon, you need NAKED LADIES. I want to start a brewery and call it ‘Titties’ then I can advertise “Get your face into a pair of Titties”, that way I’ll sell twice as much!
I been doing some research into my family tree (all jokes about hick towns aside), and it seems I may have some relatives over your way! My grandpappy served In Suffolk back in WW2, in the air force. He wasn’t nothing as grand as a pilot or anything he was just a grease monkey, he had a real talent for engines but was clumsy as hell. One night he was asked to join a crew on a raid over Germany, he’d never got a scratch all they way through the war, so the guys used to think of him as a bit of a good luck charm. Well his luck didn’t hold out, the navigator got his map upside down and they ended up over the rail works in Doncaster, where they were hit by an anti-aircraft shell. They bailed out and all touched down safe and sound in a town called Barnsley. They approached a pub called The Mount, and when they went through the door the bar fell silent, darts stopped in mid-air, and then they heard some one say “Tha not from raaand ere a-tha?” They immediately assumed they’d landed behind enemy lines and made a run for it. They hid in some sort of well made of oak, it was the quietest place they could find.
For three and a half years they holed up in that oak well, without seeing a soul, foraging at night for food. It was an early WWF guy that found them, Brian Glover; he was staging the “Al feyt thi forritt” wrestlemania slamdown to celebrate the third anniversary of VE day. Well, my grandpappy and his pals emerged heroes and in the celebrations that followed he met a girl, tall, slim, long flowing hair, and that was just my grandpappy. She was a real bruiser, a coal shoveller, from somewhere called Hoyland. My grandpappy had, what we in these parts call, thick spunk, he was very fertile, my grandma had to chew before she swallowed. So when my grandpappy landed in the land of the free once again, a letter from his sweetheart stoker was waiting for him, informing him of his forthcoming child. He never heard from her again after that, perhaps it had something to do with him changing his name? I don’t know, but he did change his name from Elijah Morgan to Elijah Duphresne then moved down to the Deep South where he brought up his own family, of which I am part. That’s the story he told me, so I guess I have some family still living over there, perhaps I’ll search them out before I come visit?
Time is against us friends, and foes, so I must once again sign off. Commiserations to all you England fans. The finest sight for me during the world cup was watching Americans touch down in an African country in something other than Apache gunships and not wearing military fatigues!
Still missing y’all,
Elmer
On the plus side I got to have a look on the internet for some new jobs. I never knew how much money you can make, just working from home! Do you know I could make $100 a day just licking and sealing envelopes, I understand Joe Cole is looking for work, maybe he should apply, I ain’t seen a tongue that big since I saw Free Willy!
I was thinking that perhaps I could do some work when I came over, but I’ve seen the news and the recession is hitting you guys real hard so I don’t hold out much hope, hell, even that massive club Sheffield Wednesday had to fire their inspirational leader Lee Strafford, and he was working for free! Perhaps he should try licking envelopes, but to be honest, he looks like he’d rather eat them!
I’ve been catching up on my Sheffield culture too; I’ve watched ‘When Saturday Comes’ ‘Threads’ and I laughed my ass off when I saw ‘The Full Monty’. Robert Carlisle had me falling about every time he said a word, that has to be the worst accent since Dick Van Dyke’s in Mary Poppins! I watched the documentary ‘Threads’ in absolute horror, hell you guys used to fly a red flag on your county hall on May Day, and then those commie Russians drop a nuke on you!? But, with your true northern grit you guys just carried on as normal, as if nothing had happened. Jeez, you even turned the crater into a feature and casually called it the ‘hole in’t Road’!
I couldn’t believe the transformation by the time ‘When Saturday Comes’ was made; you’d hardly think there’d been a bomb (although I gotta say Sean Bean’s wife, Mary, looked like she’d been staring at the blast). You guys need to learn how to market shit too. I saw that Jimmy Muir worked in a brewery that brewed ‘Stones’ and the logos were a cannon or a guy hitting an anvil with a big old hammer. Now I don’t know about you, but stones, hammer, anvil, cannon… that says hangover all over it to me. If you look at Bud’s advertising, lots of girls with not many clothes… that says I’m gonna get some if I drink this beer! Go figure. Wards, that’s where you go in the hospital when you get sick, c’mon, you need NAKED LADIES. I want to start a brewery and call it ‘Titties’ then I can advertise “Get your face into a pair of Titties”, that way I’ll sell twice as much!
I been doing some research into my family tree (all jokes about hick towns aside), and it seems I may have some relatives over your way! My grandpappy served In Suffolk back in WW2, in the air force. He wasn’t nothing as grand as a pilot or anything he was just a grease monkey, he had a real talent for engines but was clumsy as hell. One night he was asked to join a crew on a raid over Germany, he’d never got a scratch all they way through the war, so the guys used to think of him as a bit of a good luck charm. Well his luck didn’t hold out, the navigator got his map upside down and they ended up over the rail works in Doncaster, where they were hit by an anti-aircraft shell. They bailed out and all touched down safe and sound in a town called Barnsley. They approached a pub called The Mount, and when they went through the door the bar fell silent, darts stopped in mid-air, and then they heard some one say “Tha not from raaand ere a-tha?” They immediately assumed they’d landed behind enemy lines and made a run for it. They hid in some sort of well made of oak, it was the quietest place they could find.
For three and a half years they holed up in that oak well, without seeing a soul, foraging at night for food. It was an early WWF guy that found them, Brian Glover; he was staging the “Al feyt thi forritt” wrestlemania slamdown to celebrate the third anniversary of VE day. Well, my grandpappy and his pals emerged heroes and in the celebrations that followed he met a girl, tall, slim, long flowing hair, and that was just my grandpappy. She was a real bruiser, a coal shoveller, from somewhere called Hoyland. My grandpappy had, what we in these parts call, thick spunk, he was very fertile, my grandma had to chew before she swallowed. So when my grandpappy landed in the land of the free once again, a letter from his sweetheart stoker was waiting for him, informing him of his forthcoming child. He never heard from her again after that, perhaps it had something to do with him changing his name? I don’t know, but he did change his name from Elijah Morgan to Elijah Duphresne then moved down to the Deep South where he brought up his own family, of which I am part. That’s the story he told me, so I guess I have some family still living over there, perhaps I’ll search them out before I come visit?
Time is against us friends, and foes, so I must once again sign off. Commiserations to all you England fans. The finest sight for me during the world cup was watching Americans touch down in an African country in something other than Apache gunships and not wearing military fatigues!
Still missing y’all,
Elmer
