Day 1439. There are some very encouraging reports, that indicate that the old count might imminently be on its way. For the moment, he’s still here. Oh hopeful fuck.
( The word ‘imminently’ is used above strictly in a non legally binding way )
Day 1440 and 1441. Well, well well. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. The B.O on Bargain Hunt will appear tomo, and the old Count continues. For he’s still here. Oh fuck...
The impasse is nearly over The end is in sight Roland was spotted at Dover The old Walloon is full of spite 3blokes has been counting the days Till Duchatelet takes flight Let this be the end of a terrible malaise In Charlton's recent history Given a fair wind with a bit of luck Douchebag involvement was a mystery Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck.
@3blokes , I do hope you have up your sleeve a celebratory edition for when he finally f***s off - featuring all the B.O. favourites, shed, black & white ants, fandango, coffee & biscuit, ...!!
Hopefully not much longer, but not holding my breath.
In the time that Douchebag has been the owner, Lizzy Yarnold has won two Gold medals at Two winter Olympics ! I will start a hunger strike and end up a skeleton if Roland is still here when Lizzy get her Hat trick.
You're a bit early with the celebratory Easter eggs! Isn't it wash-the-peasants-feet fuck today? Although in his case, he'd probably wrap them in duct-tape instead!
“Look for the last time, mate, you buy stuff from this little local market, then we film you at an auction selling it, then we do a leg kick at the end, then we all fuck off home. That’s how Bargain Hunt works.” The producer gives a sigh and stares at the B.O. He continues - “ So you can’t bring an old piece of cheese along that you found at the back of your fridge and try and flog it, and you can’t try and sell your football club on this show!” The B.O. looks at him. “ Not much of a show then, is it?” He says with a sniff. “ Yes it is,” replies the producer. “ it’s just that you can’t come on here trying to sell a football club! Or that fucking old bit of cheese!” “ But loads of people want to buy my shitty shit club!” cries the B.O. The producer gazes at him for a moment. “ How much you asking for it, anyway?” He says. “ What, the cheese, or the football club?” asks the B.O. The producer runs a hand over his forehead. “ The football club, ffs.” He mutters. “£50 million.” replies the B.O. There is a pause. “ And about the same for the cheese.” adds the B.O. confidently. The producer eyes him with a grimace. “ Well, one thing I can say is you are probably the most almighty bargain hunt we’ve ever had on the show.” says the producer, quietly.
Let’s leave the B.O smiling quietly at that fine accolade. And all that remains now is to for us all do the little leg kick at the end He’s still here. Oh fuck...
The team have started winning The fans have started singing The wicked witch is in the championship The soft lad's voice just ain't hip We now have JJ and Bow Why can't the old fucker Just go go go.
Sorry to disappoint but you forgot the Bank Holiday, bin day is tomorrow
That’s exactly what I said to the wife this morning, as we lay in bed listening to the bin lorry turn up. Cue me frantically scrambling to put some clothes on to get outside and put those bins out! It’s all really terribly exciting in our household, what WILL happen next?
Sorry to disappoint but you forgot the Bank Holiday, bin day is tomorrow
That’s exactly what I said to the wife this morning, as we lay in bed listening to the bin lorry turn up. Cue me frantically scrambling to put some clothes on to get outside and put those bins out! It’s all really terribly exciting in our household, what WILL happen next?
It’s the evening before bin day in St Truiden. The Best Owner is coming home, pushing his shopping trolley, full of treasures that he found on the streets of Limburg. A buckled bike wheel, half a house brick, some oily rags and the like, but most precious today, the sole of an old discarded plimsoll. As he goes up the path, to his house, he is confronted by an old fridge. He looks at it and then shouts “Wife of mine! Come quickly! One of those vinegar pissers is trying to steel our refrigerator” Wearily she goes out to speak to him, “Nobody is trying to steel it” she says “I got the nice men who delivered our new American four door, ice making and crushing fridge, to stick it out here for the council to collect tomorrow” she continues “the bloody thing is over twenty years old and hasn’t worked at all for months, probably years now” “But, but” blusters the Best Owner “I have proved that the need for a refrigerator is folly” “Here, look at this, these are my calculations” he goes on, and hands her a scrap of crumpled paper. She looks at it and replies “That is just a childlike doodle of a cock.” “Nonsense, I’m a visionary, when my soup is too hot for me I blow on it, so as to cool it, by extension as my calculations prove, I am able to keep things frozen by blowing on them, look it’s all here in my formula” he answers, whilst pointing to his little piece of paper. She sighs and answers “don’t you remember last week when you spent 3 days blowing on those fish fingers, they rotted didn’t they, stank the whole house out” The Best Owner says nothing for a while, pondering. At length he says “How much are the council giving us for the refrigerator?” “Nothing” she answers “I’ve paid them a tenner to take it away, they won’t take bulky items in the normal collection” “TEN EUROS!” The Best Owner is now red with anger “Ten Euros for my property! I am giving someone ten Euros and my own property in one swoop, no, no, no, this will not happen” he starts scribbling on another scrap of paper and muttering. Finally he says “Right they can have it for 45million, I’ve added together the cost of the old fridge, the new one, the cost of electricity for running it for the last twenty years, the rental of the space it occupied during that time and the cost of a box of fish fingers, it works out to 45million, here look at my arithmetic” and tries to hand over his scrap of paper. “It’s going to be another doodle of a cock isn’t it” she says. “Wife of mine, you must ring up the council immediately, to inform them of the price they must pay 45million for my refrigerator” he orders her “do it now!” She sighs again “Okay” and starts tapping out the numbers. Whilst waiting to be connected she says to the Best Owner “Do you remember when we first got the fridge and you wanted to go inside it to see if the light went off when it was closed?” she continues “How about going inside it now to see if when unplugged, that some form of latent energy keeps the light on” The Best Owner now perks up “ah yes science, I’m a visionary, I’m about to discover a new form of power” and hops into the fridge and closes the door. The wife then pushes a piece of timber up against the door so it can’t be opened at the same time her call is finally connected “hello, is that the council, is there any chance someone can come round tonight and take the old fridge away, it’s really getting on my nerves out here, I’ll pay extra” Muffled sounds are heard coming from inside the old fridge, and wife goes inside to get some ice from the new one and pour a nice G&T. Bin days should always be looked forward to.
Comments
There are some very encouraging reports, that indicate that the old count might imminently be on its way.
For the moment, he’s still here.
Oh hopeful fuck.
( The word ‘imminently’ is used above strictly in a non legally binding way
Well, well well.
But let’s not get ahead of ourselves.
The B.O on Bargain Hunt will appear tomo, and the old Count continues.
For he’s still here.
Oh fuck...
The end is in sight
Roland was spotted at Dover
The old Walloon is full of spite
3blokes has been counting the days
Till Duchatelet takes flight
Let this be the end of a terrible malaise
In Charlton's recent history
Given a fair wind with a bit of luck
Douchebag involvement was a mystery
Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck.
To buy or not to buy, that is the question.
Or maybe it’s more a case of today or not today...
Anyway, he’s still here.
Oh fuck...
He’s still here.
Oh fuck.
Hopefully not much longer, but not holding my breath.
Lizzy Yarnold has won two Gold medals at Two winter Olympics !
I will start a hunger strike and end up a skeleton if Roland is still here when Lizzy get her Hat trick.
He’s still here.
Oh long week fuck..
He’s still here.
Oh creme egg fuck
Isn't it wash-the-peasants-feet fuck today?
Although in his case, he'd probably wrap them in duct-tape instead!
Kin’ hell, the old scrote is still here.
Oh not so Good Friday fuck..
“Look for the last time, mate, you buy stuff from this little local market, then we film you at an auction selling it, then we do a leg kick at the end, then we all fuck off home. That’s how Bargain Hunt works.”
The producer gives a sigh and stares at the B.O.
He continues -
“ So you can’t bring an old piece of cheese along that you found at the back of your fridge and try and flog it, and you can’t try and sell your football club on this show!”
The B.O. looks at him.
“ Not much of a show then, is it?” He says with a sniff.
“ Yes it is,” replies the producer. “ it’s just that you can’t come on here trying to sell a football club! Or that fucking old bit of cheese!”
“ But loads of people want to buy my shitty shit club!” cries the B.O.
The producer gazes at him for a moment.
“ How much you asking for it, anyway?” He says.
“ What, the cheese, or the football club?” asks the B.O.
The producer runs a hand over his forehead.
“ The football club, ffs.” He mutters.
“£50 million.” replies the B.O.
There is a pause.
“ And about the same for the cheese.” adds the B.O. confidently.
The producer eyes him with a grimace.
“ Well, one thing I can say is you are probably the most almighty bargain hunt we’ve ever had on the show.” says the producer, quietly.
Let’s leave the B.O smiling quietly at that fine accolade.
And all that remains now is to for us all do the little leg kick at the end
He’s still here.
Oh fuck...
Easter Monday.
He’s still here.
Oh fuck...
The fans have started singing
The wicked witch is in the championship
The soft lad's voice just ain't hip
We now have JJ and Bow
Why can't the old fucker
Just go go go.
Fine win again yesterday.
He’s still here.
Oh fuck...
He’s still here.
Oh fuck...
He’s still here.
Oh bin fuck...
Cue me frantically scrambling to put some clothes on to get outside and put those bins out!
It’s all really terribly exciting in our household, what WILL happen next?
He’s still here.
Oh fuck.
The Best Owner is coming home, pushing his shopping trolley, full of treasures that he found on the streets of Limburg. A buckled bike wheel, half a house brick, some oily rags and the like, but most precious today, the sole of an old discarded plimsoll.
As he goes up the path, to his house, he is confronted by an old fridge. He looks at it and then shouts “Wife of mine! Come quickly! One of those vinegar pissers is trying to steel our refrigerator”
Wearily she goes out to speak to him, “Nobody is trying to steel it” she says “I got the nice men who delivered our new American four door, ice making and crushing fridge, to stick it out here for the council to collect tomorrow” she continues “the bloody thing is over twenty years old and hasn’t worked at all for months, probably years now”
“But, but” blusters the Best Owner “I have proved that the need for a refrigerator is folly”
“Here, look at this, these are my calculations” he goes on, and hands her a scrap of crumpled paper.
She looks at it and replies “That is just a childlike doodle of a cock.”
“Nonsense, I’m a visionary, when my soup is too hot for me I blow on it, so as to cool it, by extension as my calculations prove, I am able to keep things frozen by blowing on them, look it’s all here in my formula” he answers, whilst pointing to his little piece of paper.
She sighs and answers “don’t you remember last week when you spent 3 days blowing on those fish fingers, they rotted didn’t they, stank the whole house out”
The Best Owner says nothing for a while, pondering.
At length he says “How much are the council giving us for the refrigerator?”
“Nothing” she answers “I’ve paid them a tenner to take it away, they won’t take bulky items in the normal collection”
“TEN EUROS!” The Best Owner is now red with anger “Ten Euros for my property! I am giving someone ten Euros and my own property in one swoop, no, no, no, this will not happen” he starts scribbling on another scrap of paper and muttering.
Finally he says “Right they can have it for 45million, I’ve added together the cost of the old fridge, the new one, the cost of electricity for running it for the last twenty years, the rental of the space it occupied during that time and the cost of a box of fish fingers, it works out to 45million, here look at my arithmetic” and tries to hand over his scrap of paper.
“It’s going to be another doodle of a cock isn’t it” she says.
“Wife of mine, you must ring up the council immediately, to inform them of the price they must pay 45million for my refrigerator” he orders her “do it now!”
She sighs again “Okay” and starts tapping out the numbers.
Whilst waiting to be connected she says to the Best Owner “Do you remember when we first got the fridge and you wanted to go inside it to see if the light went off when it was closed?” she continues “How about going inside it now to see if when unplugged, that some form of latent energy keeps the light on”
The Best Owner now perks up “ah yes science, I’m a visionary, I’m about to discover a new form of power” and hops into the fridge and closes the door. The wife then pushes a piece of timber up against the door so it can’t be opened at the same time her call is finally connected “hello, is that the council, is there any chance someone can come round tonight and take the old fridge away, it’s really getting on my nerves out here, I’ll pay extra”
Muffled sounds are heard coming from inside the old fridge, and wife goes inside to get some ice from the new one and pour a nice G&T.
Bin days should always be looked forward to.
He’s still here. Words fail me. Apart from these two :
Oh fuck...