Oh my golly gosh,

The pranks you lot get up to while I'm working. I'm laughing my tits off. Hmmm.... scrolls up.

Hmmm.....

Spaw, yeah mate, "saw what she had for bk'fst" is a DB - well, no it isn't - DB is revolting gutrot beer brewed in NZ by "Dominion Breweries" - I drink real Southern Man's Beer - "Speights" from Dunedin. Someone remind me to copy down the definition of "Southern Man" from the Speights poster at the Pub - it is CLASSIC.

Now, an "upskirt". Um, is that where you lie on the ground, and peer up a damsel's dress? How utterly disgusting - and it was!

Um... This should be in the dunny thread, along with my Cpt Jim Esson posts. For, forsooth, it was at said fellow's wedding in 1965, that I was ever depraved enough to perform the most unmannerly act of doing an "upskirt" - totally out of my control. It was the female person of the opposite sex, who instigated it, and it was not a pretty sight. D'ya really wanna hear this yarn? If not, scroll down.....

Jim's old man was manager of the "Bank of New Zealand", quite a high position. Angela (Jim's bride to be) came from "aristocracy", bred race-horses and such-like. Well, the wedding was quite a tonky affair, at Marton, just outside Palmerston North. Y'know, real toffee-nose stuff, marquee on the lawn, band, the whole "schemozzle" (Help Mark). Well, anyway, Jim was rash enough to invite some of his Varsity mates to this poncy do. His old man was a real hard case, and buttonned me up in a corner of the marquee, and kept pouring me 'skies - damned big ones too. He'd toast me with "Skäl" - so I did - and crashed the drink - and crashed soon after.

Anyway, there I was completely blotto in the grotto (well to be truthfull it was among the rose bushes), flat on me back, "playing Mt Vesuvius", when this old fart aunt tart damned near straddled my head, peered down, and in a Dowager Duchess voice, proclaimed to the assembled multitude. "If that was my son, I would KILL it".

So, Spaw, ol' buddy, "upskirts" don't appeal, particularly with what I saw. Her bloomers came down to her knees.

ST- help me out cobber, WHY didn't you keep me out of this thread? The bloomin' sheilas are going to get into my knickers to find out what bloomers are. Aaaaarrrgggghhhhh......

In the words of that old folk poet A Non "Oh ain't it grand to be bloomin' well dead"

Suppository Sam (Wot brings the s**t out)