wonky

i was working in the shed earlier this evening and my wife brought in my tea on a tray because i was too dirty for to be let in the kitchen..it was pork chops and veg..i mangled that..lol

you would not belive the day i have had folks..gerry the racist has had another of wonkys little chats in private and has been assured again that in absolute no circumstances will i ever expose him,out him..whatever..it is just not in my nature..yes i do have evil thoughts from time to time but it is just not in my nature to do this..he has my word and thats all i could give..it has been cruel having to observe the breakdown of such a strong character at such close quaters in so few days.i would defnitly not want to be responsible god forbid should he tip over the edge..it was quite emotional and he apologised again for being such a dick all these years ect..i could sense that he had found himself a friend and i had to put that notion out of his head straight away by telling him i had never really liked him anyways due to his vulgarity and racisim..that he would never be a mate of mine and that if he needed a hand at work thats what he would get.. working long hours with a team of welders and fitters can be quite a tough job and working in confined spaces with cat 4 chemicals and solvents just add fuel to the fire..i explained that as a team we must all pull together and watch each others backs..that evryone must be 100% focused on the task in hand and that someone who obviously is not a full deck is an accident waiting to happen. there was no mercy. i explained that he can do whatever he wants and now i know what he gets upto i will now also be watching my ass as well as my back when we are inside some dark vessel..lol..this was the turning point..he actually laughed at me..first time in what probably seemed like a lifetime to him im guessing. he has been told to just get on with it and not be trying to be nice to me..i told him that my family did not eat his potatoes and that i had no intentions of ever eating them all either and i much prefered turnip anyways..see you later..sorted. after lunch today there was some other bloke banging on in my ear about all the forigners coming over here ,stealing our jobs and women,claiming all our benifits and complaining about there being no polish mass services ect ..and i found it was a lot easier to just agree than argue..i ended up telling the whole squad that when i was english and the queen came to tea we would always have oven chips because she didnt like potatoes either... my new mate gerry the racist said out loud...in front of five more irish racists..."have you heard that geordie fecker ? he thinks hes a feckin paddy.." i am drained..lol..cheers

well..where do i start with this one ?..there is this guy i work with in the factory. he is a real nasty piece of work. lets call him gerry the racist for the sake of things..i have known and worked with the bloke for at least eight to ten years and can honestly say i have never heard him say a good thing about anyone. putting it bluntly he is probably the foulest person that ever walked the earth..he is rotten to the core and i am certain that if such a place as heaven exists there will be no forgivness in his case and he will probably be joining me in the other place ,for my sins. for years i have endured his taunts about how i am a tan and a brit.how my relatives ruined his country , how the brits are no difrent from the blacks and much worse ..belive me..some of the filth that comes out this guys mouth makes me uncomftable even thinking about repeating it .. he acts so hard in front of his pals,,all football and hurling talk..boxing,rugby..all man sports he says..any one like wonky who rides a bike and watches bikes going round a track is a softee...and so on...usually i just put up and shut up and laugh at him rather than with him. hes all talk and on the few ocasions i have asked him out in to the carpark hes always refused and told me to take a joke.. WELL..the boot is on the other foot now.. last week end my nephew came over to cork for a weekend,,do some shopping and sightseeing and catch up with uncle wonky..my nephew is gay. thats gay with a capital G..so gay he makes alan carr sound like a builder..now..wonky himself is not in any way homophobic even though i do like a gay joke or too but thats probably been from listening to the likes of chubby and bernard as a young fella..anyways..with out waffeling on..we all went out for a meal and a few beers in the city last friday..my nephew was pointed in the direction of loafers,the local gay bar and we arranged to meet him at said bar @ midnight before they lock the doors... yep..sure enough..in the door and was greeted by the hardest,nastiest lunatic in ireland pawing at my nephew all full of sexyness..he was mortified..it was the first time i had ever seen him speechless..he was stuttering..i was absoulutly stone cold sober(designated driver).and if i may be a little crude..i actually let out a little wee..i had to go to the toilet to compose myself..on my return to my company i was greeted by my racist colleauge in a new light..he was shaking..he was speechless..he was shaking so bad and was so nervous he actually lit a cigarette in the bar..(i really wanted to say fag but it would have been inappropriate)lol so..i introduced him properly to my nephew as gerry the racist and went on to explain that i was quite comftable in my surroundings and that gay people are no diferent to english people really..i then went on to tell him that even though he was a complete and utter bas##rd i would keep his dirty little secret to myself and gave my word that i would not tell his pals at work what he gets up to.. next thing i know gerry the racist is buying the drinks for all of us..i declined the stout he had bought me and i explained that ..eventhough i am not drinking beer in a gay bar on a friday night dont mean i am planning on coming out with you next week and it defnitly dosnt mean i want to be your friend..it means i dont want a drink as i am driving home as a sensible englishman living abroad should.. next thing hes got his arm roond my neck telling me that hes always liked me and that all the nasty things he says is just an act and that deep down inside i have always known and thats why i have never give him a good kicking...he was telling me how at work i was so popular with the lads he was jealous of me and was competing for attension... you know when your sober and your listening to this tripe , and your temper is starting to boil a little more...well..i had to switch off the gas and close the night down..good bye and off home in the car..laughing all the way. the last week at work has been pure hell..there hasnt been a single racist remark ,,hardly a word..the guy is on the verge of a nervous breakdown..some of the other lads have noticed that somthing is wiffy and are starting to speculate..some guys recon he is about to top himself or shoot sombody hes so edgy..someone said he was on tablets from the doctor for his nerves..i feel absoloutly terrible about it..and would love to give him a big hug..not that thats going to happen..lol if i was to tell the lads at work this it would slay them..they would finish him off for good to be sure,to be sure..sadly thats the type of guys i work with..one guys son commited suicide a few years ago and they are still banging on about how he didnt pay his tea money and still owed for two scones.. one things for certain..i aint going to loafers again in a hurry..any advice apreceated..oh dear..

oh yeah..that stevie..(the money was resting in my account)..bebside welfare was know to us either as billy baldys or the testical ward..most of the fellas had had testicals removed and it was usually the topic of conversation.finaly closed its doors a few weeks ago..sure could tell some tales about the club and its resident drinkers and some that didnt drink..in fact...if there had been more people drinking it would still be open..think stevie was from axwell drive god bless him and save him...

i was at glastonbury back in 87,new order were on top of the bill..it was an experiance i wont ever forget.hoping to either secure tickets for 2015 or planning on going for the two week full holliday as a volunteer..to any one who dont know..you can exchange your labour skills for tickets and camping..they will take rubbish colectors,car park and security jobs..slurry workers..riggers and welders..almost anyone willing to do a full day or nights work..i have been trying to get involved with an instilation like the mutoid waste company. most of their members from the eighties went on to work with archaos and are now in the big time..a friend of mine will be performing there this year..(vynal burns) a world champion street performer,,worth checking out on line if you cant make the festie... if my memory serves me corectly..at the 87 festival there were few portaloos and most of the toilets were of the roman type with just a long plank of wood with holes cut in...remember queueing and once i got in and had a look i couldnt go..ended up walking miles to find some bushes..it was horiffic..there was a time in the eighties i was on a site during the construction of docklands in the east end..monday morning the bogs would be blocked and wrecked from the paddys weekend beer and currys..glastonbury have a simalar effect. not for the feint hearted.

nah ... me mother was telling me on skype that there was a stevie clark had the bebside garage years ago who had three sons but he died years ago apparently..dont know if thats a relative but just in case ..sorry for your loss..lol..'theres not much about bebside me mother dont know and if she dont it will be her buisness to find out..

http://youtu.be/Hihp_Jjdnsglol symptoms..no..it was deffo lief garret..all the lasses were gagging for him and i was a cheap alternative..sadly a one hit wonder too..http://youtu.be/Hihp_Jjdnsg

smelly nelly..twice a week, couldnt wait for RK..there she was all yellow or blue and dangling well..lol..i was for ever dropping me pencil and it was certanly full of lead in those days..as for wood work and metal work..the teachers must have all went to the same collage..one fella would say.." god gave us ears for two reasons, ones for listening and the other is for twisting when your not listening"..he`d then pick you up by the ear and drag you round the room..(in most cases it was me)...and truth be known i probably had it coming..one night after school after a brutal lesson ,my self and trhis lad fawky who was a right bad lad broke into the school woodwork room and stole the cash box that was for the job money..13 quid in coins and we bought loads of fireworks..it was an absolute fortune..not content with that i climbed on the desk and did a really nice poo in the top drawer and off we went..monday..first lesson was woodwork and the police came in..had a look round..had a good look at me and fawky lad and went out...moments later the caretaker came in and proceeded to empty out the drawer with a little coal shovel and some sawdust..we were crying inside and could not look at each other..loli can still see it clear as day,,30 odd yrs later..gas.. usually at this point i would appologise but sadly it was a case of sweet revenge and what gos around comes around..i hold my hand up now..lol school trips were a gas too..the on nature walks the pervy teachers would open a gate for the lads and make the lasses climb over..we all knew what they were at just too young to understand..there was always some poor kid that had nowt for packed lunch and couldnt afford the vindolanda pencils and would usually discrase the school by stealing one and the most vivid memory is there was always a girl sick on the bus..thats one thing you dont forget..this girl deborah was sick next to me and i can only describe what came out as dried white dog poo in a watery gravey..i can still see it..30 odd years later clear as day.. all those teachers who said id regret being a fool and playing the clown..were wrong..i ended up in ireland working for the circus as a welder and saw the world..if i met the sadist teachers now that im all grown up...well...i`d probably pleasure them..

aye thats blyth for you..hit first questions later..that was all enemy teritory for me too..i went to bebside and then on to tynedale..guess i was one of the lucky ones because the girls all fancied me with my lief garret looks and i was most of the time fast enough to avoid any bullying...there was a few occasions i tried bullying myself but didnt have much luck at it if the truth be known..it was always an adventure though when some new lass from blyth would move schools and end up having to sit next to me as a punnishment..i was always the one who would have to give the tour and hand out the pencils ect. bebside had a great history buzz about it and it was a subject i was keen on..the teachers were a little on the mental side bordering sadistic but anyone who showed an interest would be of no trouble to them and treated with respect.. "god help the thickos the teacher would say"tynedale was a place i had to go and was a difrent buzz altogether..fierce competition for the ladies..growing pains and sprouting hair in wierd places..teachers looked good and hormones were raging..we had one teacher who was a total fantasy..one who would wear a difrent colour tights and dangle her shoes in a provocative manner every day, a bloke who was so badly pock marked he was called crater face or pitsa face and a gay teacher who was really understanding and cool...just dont go round to his house the lady teachers would say..lol aye...bebside..half terrier..pure mongrell..oh happy days..

many happy returns..foxy.

hey !! thats south mall talk..(thats..should i get a solicitor) cork speak...lol

well ..with out me going off on one of my long rambles i was just wondering how the fourum members felt about the big bedlington song..i just came across it on the facebook site and after three listens to the preview i am absouloutley stunned..finding it very hard to contain my words of opinion..heres a few,,its kind of reminds me of that james stewart film where he was a ghost and there was that awful happy song in it..its got tinctures of munchkin from the choclate factory and cant decide if its jazz or trance thrown in for safe measure..that casio keyboard sound hasnt been used since the very early eighties and if i can be honest,,i think we need to turn them down..i really dont want to knock the song writer so i am not going to..i am just abit concerned that i could end up with it on the wey aye pod just after unapalomablanca..cant wait for the finished version so i can truely decide if i like it or not.. i know i am not the best of musicians myself and that my (ukulele toilet song) on utube hasnt been as sucsessful as i had hoped but do feel it is important to be honest in our opinions and remember that song writers have feelings too.. if there is any course to ramble and be blatantly honest i will..cheers..wonky

aye it will do me eggy...beats the pants off the big bedlington song..lol

thats wrong..i will have four our fathers and two hail marys..lol

the band stand is exactly as i remember it from as a child...i can remember it so far back that i had to climb up it i was so small to the last time a few weeks ago i hopped up the front and realised i had grown quite a bit since the last time..i shared some happy times at the bandstand and remember the picnics well though did not really take much heed of the speaches that went on..there were some famous fellas up there though..as it stands now its looking pretty drab and dated..reminds me of killingworth of the eighties and places like that..if it were to be refurbished and funding was available surely it would be more feasable to knock it and move with the times and update it..attlee park is a natrual ampitheartre and a decent stage or bowl a little further down the hill would make more sense..use the natrual slope and create somthing wonderfull..painting a blank concrete wall is always going to attract vandals to grafitti so build somthing with natural stone and it wont look so attractive to the bungo loves lovebug brigade. surely the councill would stage more events,,opera..sit down on the grass and watch a movie.. dont quite know how the two main homeowners neighboring the park would react to planning ect but i am sure that if planning was right and people clung together the place would be wonderful again..on my last visit a few weeks ago i went down there for a walk and hung out in the carpapk for an hour or so and noticed it was mainly old ladies with special doggie ramps for their poor half crippled dogs that were using the park..all well and good when they clean up,whitch they did but the park has so much more to offer on a sunny day. who was it that said if we build it people will come ??...anyways...

yes anne from hartford they really were stylish shoes worn by miss choppington in the picture and a dream for a foot fetishist..lol..compared to the other frumpys in the pic she sure would cut a nice rug on the dance floor..its funny people keep stuff like that..my wife has a whole room full of shoes and still chooses to wander the house and street in her slipper boots that are hanging off her feet..what really disturbs me the most about this picture is the toilet paper that is on the ground..either some miner who was squatting on his honkers in the budge left it behind or it was dragged in by the heels of one of those frumpys and has been overlooked by the photographer..i really am puzzled by this also are those shoes slingbacks with a kitten heel...cant sleep...lol

A Cavan driver is pulled over by a Garda on the N3 from Dublin on his way home. The Garda approaches the driver's door. "Is there a problem Garda ?" The Garda says, "Sir, you were speeding. Can I see your license please?" ... The driver responds, "I'd give it to you but I don't have one." "You don't have one?" The Cavan man responds, "I lost it four times for drink driving." The Garda is shocked. "I see. Can I see your vehicle registration papers please?" "I'm sorry, I can't do that." The Garda says, "Why not?" "I stole this car." The Garda says, "Stole it?" The man says, "Yes, and I killed the owner." At this point the Garda is getting irate. "You what!?" "She's in the boot if you want to see." The Garda looks at the man and slowly backs away to his car and calls for back up. Within minutes, five Garda cars show up, surrounding the car. A senior Garda from the serious crimes squad slowly approaches the car, clasping his half drawn gun. The senior Garda says "Sir, could you step out of your vehicle please!" The man steps out of his vehicle. "Is there a problem Garda ?" "One of my men told me that you have stolen this car and murdered the owner." "Murdered the owner?" The Garda responds, "Yes, could you please open the boot of your car please?" The man opens the boot, revealing nothing but an empty boot. The Garda says, "Is this your car sir?" The man says "Yes," and hands over the registration papers. The Garda, understandably, is quite stunned. "One of my Garda claims that you do not have a driving licence." The man digs in his pocket revealing a wallet and hands it to the Garda. The Garda opens the wallet and examines the license. He looks quite puzzled. "Thank you sir, one of my Gardas told me you didn't have a license, stole this car, and murdered the owner." The man replies, "I bet you the lying bastard told you I was speeding, too!"

lol..ross noble is cool though a little on the plump side...robson green ARRRAGH !!..he gets on my goat that bloke..wandering round the world wavin his northumberland flag and pretendin to be a serious fisherman..its a wonder he catches anyting at all with all that screaming on like a big girls blouse..he really is a bloke that is up himself...once he was at the garage on the roundabout at bebside trying to push in the queue for petrol..driving his fancy mercedes benz..my mate gary wasnt having any of it and put him right.." just coz your robson green a\nd all the women are swooning after you dosnt mean you can jump the queue for petrol...coming down here from your fancy bungalow up woodhorn or where ever you come from""" and so on.priceless i can tell you..he went a bit red in the face and signed an autograph for some swooners and went off on his way..with out petrol..lol,,

another reflection from days gone by, offloaded for the writers group and beddys in general...a true story about love. The Blacka. Many a happy time was spent in the shadows of the Black Bridge be it throwing stones at the station gangs or just throwing stones in the river. If the tide was in it was all about the biggest splash and if the tide was out it was all about the plop or splat...I was a splatter myself. A great big Mackey rock and splat! My mate Reggie was defiantly a plopper, didn't matter how hard he could chuck a stone it always went plop. If the tide was in it would gan ploop!! The gang fights that went on in those days, being the late seventies through to the late eighties was just boys being boys, the usual my dad can fight your dad stuff. In them days some of the lads didn't even have dads so that in itself was deffo worth fighting about. I honestly can't remember any one getting hurt; the odd cracked head or burst nose from a lucky shot with a stone is all I remember. We spent more time running away from the station lads and the rest of the time it was us chasing them...someone would all ways end up crying and that would have been a good day. I was born into this world a mongrel. My dad was pure terrier of the Wood lane breed and mother was from the other side of the tracks being Bebside.I was always destined to be different, I was constantly back and forth over the river throughout my childhood and always in the shadows of the bridge and surrounding woods,, Granddad Bedlington would often come and get me and my brothers and trail us through the woods as far as Stannington to that massive conker tree and back again for teatime. We might pop in to an aunties along the way back for some pop and biscuits. The days were long then, as you get older you get more sense, I would never dream of walking so far these days, especially with three kids full of questions. He was a mighty man though and his kindness and stories bode me well. Granddad Bebside was a different cookie altogether, one time at the allotments by the old Bebside reservoir we went off for a walk along the tracks towards the Black bridge and came across a gang of station lads on our side. I was a bit nervous and Granddad chased them back with stones from the tracks so I'm guessing that my stone throwing is hereditary. "Bliddy Bedlintoners" he was saying to me. I could never work that one out but had to agree for some strange reason. By the time I was about fourteen or fifteen Bedlington girls were looking pretty good to me and I was often found lurking around the Blacka, girls would come down from the station or Bank top estates to play on the swing. That was usually the start of the fighting. It was our swing on our side of the river and not to be shared with Bedlington. The lasses could have a go if they waited their turn but when their lads showed up all hell would break loose and someone would end up going home to tell their brothers. Whatever it was about the Bedlington lasses in their bananarama garb ,.though they were fine they were just as hard as their lads and would turn on you in an instant. All buddy old pal one minute and splitting ya heed with rocks the next. The Blacka swing was mighty though. Either from the rock or the girders. One swing oot then the call for boarders, before you knew it there might be ten hanging on to that swing, or somebody's jumper or trouser leg. If it hurt it was more of a ride. If you fell off or the odd time it snapped you were a hero. If it snapped and you hit the brambles it was the funniest thing in the world. If there was blood it would be talked about for the whole summer. Years ago there was an old tugboat that had been towed up the river and tied up just at the other side of the Blue Bridge. Well we went along one day and robbed the rope off it and built the best swing ever, The rope was as thick as your arm and took about ten of us to drag it.in all it took about two days to get it into the bridge and drop the swing but it lasted for years. The railway men couldn't even shift it. Too much effort. In the end the railway men burnt it and even then it was more difficult than they had anticipated. In the summer months we would often traipse through the Hapenny woods to Bobby Pringles and rob his apples and pears. Not just a few but as many as was possible to carry. Bulging lumpy jumpers. This meant as well as running the gauntlet with the station lads you also had the added thrill that you might actually get shot. Bobby had a shot gun and he wasn't afraid to use it. That poor bloke was tormented by us and it is now that I am older and wiser that I really feel for that bloke. He's long dead now god rest him and if I ever get the chance to meet him in the afterlife he can have all my puddings, that's for sure. Times were hard enough in the eighties without having to deal with some yobs trampling and stealing your crops. We would take the robbed fruit to the bridge and just throw them at each other. It wasn't very often that the fruit would be ripe enough to enjoy although some of the Bebside kids actually did eat them, but in hindsight. They were probably starving. One time he actually caught me in his orchard, dragged me into the house to phone the police. I was crapping myself. I was probably ten or twelve at the time. He got the full info from me, who I was, where I was from. Who my grandparents were and sent me off home with a turnip for me Granddad. A while later me Grandma Bebside gave me two pence and sent me back up for another. Off we went to the garden and he gave me a few strawberries and sent me back off with a turnip. Granny Bebside was telling me that he used to drink with my granddad at the club. It was all part of the lesson I was being taught. Trips to the orchard were not as frequent after that and the dark nights were rolling in. It was back to the Blacka for a swing as Bobby Pringles was too far to go on a school night. Years later in the dead of night during the time I was smitten with this lass from the rows, I climbed the bridge and painted a slavvery love message right across the middle. Six foot high lettering, BUNGO LUVS LUVBUG, right across the whole width of the river for all to see. You could even read it from the road bridge. How cool was I eh? About a month later it was all over after her dad tried to kill me. There was a little meeting with the two families that we weren't invited to, more cups of tea and a ginger biscuit later and she was dragged back to the other side of the river never to be seen again. Untill the top club disco anyways. Months later the graffiti was still there. And months after that, and even more months after that, .There was no getting away from the fact that Bungo loves Luvbug, and that was that. By the time the painters came I had moved on and grown up, though the bridge has been painted a few times since, whenever I return to Bedlington on family visits I can still see the stain. It will always be there where I left it. No black paint in the world can cover up the love I had for Luvbug and the happy times had in those shadows under the bridge. Jesus. Is that the time?...

i dont think it matters where theyre from..a cream cake is a cream cake in my book..personaly...i like a cream doughnut slit up the middleand stuffed to overfill and a sqirt of red jammy sauce..yummy !!

aye,the budge, happy memories of courting this lass from the rows and kissing and cudling in the budge at the red lion waiting for the bus home..cant remember what time the last bus was at but remember well the happy tingly feel of being in love..her mother would often say.." dont be hanging round all nite in the budge as someone will be telling your dad and you know what will happen then" lol..there was a few times that i would miss the last bus just for that extra time together and end up walking home to the sound of my mother saying.."have you been up to bedlington with that dorty lass again". there was definatly a strong smell of wee in the corner and a strong smell of woodbine too.. the guy in the above picture wearing the glasses was a trendsetter in his day..i just paid 150 euros for some specs like those..gok wans frames,pure designer stuff..i was wearing them at work and one guy asked did they not have any other ones and another said the last time he saw glasses like that alf garnett was wearing them..lmao

Terrier Members 120 posts 0 warning points Posted 15 January 2013 - 09:50 PM more years ago than i care to mention..i vandalised the black bridge..i am openly admiting this now so as to be a more honest person..i know i was not the only person to do this but am probably the first to admit to it on line..thirty years im guessing..it was all the rage in those days..robbed a bucket of emulsion and painted bungo loves lovebug right across the middle.. on the east side of the bridge..6 ft high lettering in white..how cool was i..? traffic off the spine road bridge could read it .it was there for ages...to those people thirty years ago who were offended by this.i appologise..i am so sorry. i cut the rope on numerous occasions on the swing and once ..i was inside the bridge ..where it actually crosses the road ,,nr the bank top and did a poo on to a bus window,,double deccer going to blyth it was....hit it dead on the upstairs windscreen..to any one on the buss i apologise..i am so sorry.. its funny ,how you get older these things come back and you remember what a lunatic you were....i certanly was for sure ,to be sure ,to be sure. just wanted to get that off my chest..thankyouverymuch lol

well ..ive been talking to the parents and opened up a whole can of worms !!..lol my grand parents were from purvis row and were moved out to front st,bebside a long long time ago..mother couldnt date it exactly..she remembers visiting her uncle harry there as a child .she reconed most people from the furnace area were moved to cowpen 1st and then rehoused again when the new houses at kitty brewster were built. she also said that most people who would be able to remember these houses would probably be dead by now. witch was somthing i had kind of worked out myself.lol. since opening this can of worms she is going off to see my great uncle who is still of this world and 15 years older than herself to find out more.. one fact she did get right was it was before my time and the houses had definatly been demolished before she was courting my dad..figures mentioned were.1943,1947.1953..though what this means is beyond me !!..just like my history teacher said in an old school report...james does not listen,his mind is elsewhere.must try harder..think he might have been right..cheers,

lol..tarry tooty..remember it well and still use it on ocasions..now days its been replaced by hammerite for a car underbody..

great pictures..the last time i saw the place looking like that it was in a local history lesson back in bebside middle school and i also couldnt put a date on it...lol its amazing that this has all gone now..i recognise loads of the surnames in the list and growing up in bebside there were quite a few that were probably rehoused around kitty brewster estate..we used to dig for bottles down there and would often find the odd blue medicine bottles..the place must have been rank with illness i`m guessing..it would be interesting to find a date..i will ask me mother at the weekend..she knows evrything my dad tells me.lol