The Poolie Bunker

.... the waiting was hell, the tell tale bead of sWeat that runs down my forehead as I sat nervously on stand by waiting for the phone call that would make me leap into action and scramble to the car to speed off and pick up.... our lass and her mates from her works do....who said women are the gentle nurturing sex.....? I had to go on orbit around Hartlepool at midnight as they were so 'merry' they couldn't be arsed to get out of the car... the combination of red wine, violent erratic mood swings, and scenes from the Beano where fists and legs are flaling in a fight in a ball of dust and that was just trying to squeeze them all in the car was what it must have felt like as a Millwall coach driver post match after a defeat in the 70's

so your lass and her mates are just Bushwhackers at heart really?

... it's all denials this morning, so I must have dreamt it .........

did she say things like,"are ya magging me orff you carnt"? If so, she's deffo got some subconscious Miwaww tendencies

I've given up caring... the car ends up like the f*****g cable car on 'Where Eagles Dare'.......