Symptoms

Aye! A land of full-employment. Maybe somebody should collate data about the ever-increasing numbers of those on zero hours contracts, or three jobs to make ends meet, or the zombie jobs. Welcome to modern Blighty.

What's Lady Gaga got to do with anything? Then I re-read the post ... "The lady Ggg was referring ..." So the question now is - do we have the courage to call GGG - Lady Gaga?

Headphones in '69!!!! All my student grant went on backy, booze, dope and LPs. Nothing left for headphones.

Sorry, I meant to add a final paragraph to the above but MrsSym called me down for the evening nosebag (yum, yum) so didn't have time. Anyway, here it is: A football club who wishes to sign Evans should do so ... yep, he has a right to work. However, said club and Evans should expect torrents of abuse from away supporters, many home supporters, etc., etc. Football, after all, is populated by many revolting individuals (some directors, some managers and some players) and one more ain't going to make much difference. GGG ... that's a great photo. Maybe we'll be seeing similar scenes in Frogland soon.

Every Friday and Saturday night up and down Blighty folks are getting rat arsed and incapable. If a person is incapable of giving informed consent to having sexual intercourse then is is rape. It really is as simple as that. The jury in the Evans case believed the prosecution's evidence and so convicted him. His defense team clearly didn't present enough evidence for an aquittal. It really is as simple as that. He served half his sentence and is out on license ... which means he's still serving a sentence for rape. It really is as simple as that. None of these facts are solely feminist issues but should exercise all right thinking people. Pity the idiots have commandeered the agenda.

Hi Norman ... I remember you and your family well - we lived in the Riggs as well. If you go to the 'Talk of the Town' section and look under the 'Forst footin' thread you'll recognise the tale I tell about New Years Eve as your house was one of the venues.

Aghh! Not Leonard Cohen ... no, no, no! Nightmare! Why? First year in Halls of Residence (1969) the guy in the next room to me only ever played LC, on and on and on it went ... ditties to commit suicide by. Obviously, an important cultural influence for the Cramilington Budgie Strangler. I had to blast out Cream to neutralise the neighbouring dirges.

My Mum was always keen (almost obsessed?) about getting the 'first footer' organised in advance of the midnight gongs and, as Paul says, a lump of coal was always to hand. Funny thing was she wasn't normally a superstitious person but I suppose it was something carried over from her childhood; perhaps there lies the clue in why it isn't widely practiced these days ... lack of community continuity. We lived in the Riggs and New Years Eve was a really big deal with most households visiting each other's houses around the Riggs ... a bit like a pub crawl. The sessions would start early, say 8pm, and go on 'till maybe 5 or 6 in the morning. Some houses would have a band playing (I've mentioned before about being in bands that did these sorts of gigs) with everybody stuffed into a front room dancing to the music and getting rat arsed. My Dad used to brew his own beer and liquor (he had a glass still for distilling the hooch ... I remember he sent off to London after seeing an advert in the Exchange & Mart for the still and it arrived in a wooden crate swaddled in straw) so there was always gallons of booze available for folks to quaff.

Thank goodness the Yankees have discovered good taste and strangled the Cramlington Budgie Strangler's dodgy offering. Qualifies as a "One Hit Wonder" in my book: http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/entertainment-arts-30698228

As the Forum's most vociferous Republican I'd defend Sherrington's right to slag-off Betty Saxe-Coburg and Gotha and all her spawn; if he's said anything slanderous let her snivelling kowtowing briefs sue I've been saying it for ages here that they, and all they represent, have no place in a modern Blighty. Their revolting disease of entitlement knows no bounds ... just look at the recent Yankee news reports, or who joined Jimmy Savile at his remote Welsh cottage, or who is protected for 100 years by a gag on the Cullen Inquiry evidence into Dunblane, or who is protected for 100 years by a gag on the Denning Inquiry into Profumo, or the 'headless man' affair. Hands off the Beeb I say. Leave editorial decisions to their editors even when they shine a burning bright light on the antics of neo-Nazis, wherever they lurk. Certainly, Auntie's emphasis is sometimes misplaced but so what ... I reckon it all balances out in the end. No licence fee can only mean being in hock to BigBacky, BigBooze, BigLekky, assorted BigYankee dictating editorial direction, oh, and wall-to-wall adverts.

Oh no! I seem to remember the last time there was a major review of the site's giblets the place went dark for a couple of years. Assurances needed.

At last! The NHS bosses are seeing the sense in wise old Syms mission: http://www.theguardian.com/society/2014/dec/26/nhs-target-obesity-nationwide-programme

Obviously a snowstorm whiteout.

Unlikely those shows would be commissioned today. It was all meant to be 'good clean fun' and 'of its time' and WAS funny then but sometimes you find these shows appearing on the legacy channels and they are a bit cringeworthy seen through modern eyes. Then you look at old episodes of the Sweeney (brilliant stuff) ... but enough said about birds, knockers, crumpet, and so on. We must remember that Jimmy Savile was stalking the telly/hosital/prison corridors at this time as well.

Tony, you know fine well I've never promoted the notion that the morbidly obese be denied NHS treatment, all I've ever said is that they should take some responsibilty (like the rest of us) to attempt living a healthier lifestyle. By doing this perhaps they'll have to call on those precious resources less often. I do, however, continue to maintain that whenever they seek NHS support they should be asked (actually, it should be demanded of them) to go some way in reducing risk to themselves. Ditto, the puffers ... none of would expect a guy due a lung op for Big C to continue puffing away or taking it up again post op. Ditto, the druggies ... none of us would expect those about to enter rehab voluntarily to pack a stash. Yep, there are folks who, as a by product of their illness (ticker problems, for example) or their disability (wheelchair after bike crash) put on weight, well these folks can go to the 'front of the queue' for support and NHS resources as far as I'm concerned. You've mentioned in a couple of your posts about NI contributions; what about those who haven't contributed? Two fat folks, one's paid in the other hasn't ... same health problems, same hospital - do they both get the same treatment? It 'aint a bottomless pit of resources, is it fair that some are taking more just because their lifestyle has come to bite them in the arse? Perhaps we need to start a discussion about voluntary euthanasia and none-voluntary euthanasia?

Merry Xmas from wise old owl Sym and here's a personal video for you all: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sjlxgFFoPPY&list=UU0k9-NAFHQ1SgbafRiEdVe

MrsSym's secret roastie recipe: prep the spuds (peel then cut into quarters ... about the size of a matchbox) plop them in a covered Pyrex dish and nuke them in the microwave for approx 5mins (or parboil them in a pan over the gas/lekky 'till almost softish - poke with knife to check) glob a drop or two of olive oil into the dish or pan, put lid on then shake, rattle and roll* the dish/pan to cover the spuds with the oil, - this creates a fluffy outer surface to the spuds ... a mild sort of batter effect after the roasting tip out onto a baking tray and chuck into the oven (200 stoneage, 170 fan) 'till golden You'll never do roasties any other way again! *shake, rattle and roll also helps the fatties on the exercise front.

Joe Cocker has died aged 70: http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/entertainment-arts-30582761 He was one of The Greats.

Ah, so the Terrier Plate Works was about steel fabrication and light engineering and not about ceramics. I had visions of crates full of teapots, cups and saucers and gravy boats, all packed in straw, being carted down to the Station and humped onto trains for the start of the long journey across the Empire. Has anybody collated any of this information/history? This is the first I've heard about it and would love to discover more. Oops, I've just looked at that advert for the Plate Works ... they were making plates! But were they ceramic or repousse metalwork ... hard to work-out from the ad.

GGG wrote: "Think I'm beginning to suffer the same symptoms as Symptoms!" Thank goodness! At long last! Sanity reigns with the G. We'll look forward to balanced postings, wise opinions, links to 'right thinking' sites. And the World will be a better place after the G epiphany.

It was in Pink Lane (the short cut to the Central Station from Clayton St). There were a couple of cafes there but the so-called 'all-nighter' shut at 2.30am ... it might even have been a Wimpy Bar. Anyway, its real claim to fame was the meeting place for the London gangster, Jack Carter, to meet his neice in the 1971 film Get Carter.

Of course, the culturally gelded whippersnappers have little to draw on when attemping to make sense of the typical dirges served-up since the 80s. Wall-to-wall Morrisseyesque clones have been infecting the scene for a generation reducing cultural vigor to a trickle. The absence of any real 'greats' during the last half-lifetime has left us with a void being filled by the talentless disc-spinners and their William Topaz McGonagall like lyrics.

The Boss wrote: "I'm going to split this so as not to hijack Maggiel's topic." Where do we find Magg's split?

"... simple minded lefties ...". Come on GGG, let's not get too personal.

Maggs, all sensible people share my views. Wise old owl Sym has spoken. Doors are going to have to be widened, floors reinforced, furniture modified at great expense, an army of shoelace-tying technicians will need to be recruited and specially demarked reserve lanes assigned on footpaths. Crackers, complete and utter crackers .... wow!, there's a thought - feed them on crackers.