Symptoms

This is great!  Does "Germany" mean Terry is living there? I'll send a personal message to you via this forum in the next couple of days so 'keep an eye out' for it.

Is the username TGH you Terry or one being used by one of the sisters?

This bunfight in the sand dunes is being orchestrated/controlled by the ruling elite in Saudi Arabia who rigourously follow, and wish to export, their Wahhabism brand of Islam.  The Saudis bankroll, supply weapons, give safe-haven to the terror boys doing their 'evangelical' across the region.  The Yankees know this, the Frogs know this, Fritz knows this, and those in control in Blighty know this but none are inclined to lean on King Salman and his extended Mafia family to put a stop to it all.

On the other matter being discussed here ... why do an increasing number of folks define themselves as being lesbiongaybisexualtraansgender/Muslim/Christian/black/Pakastani/et al (delete as appropriate) before defining themselves as, say, a doctor, a teacher, a road sweeper or a nurse.  When in harness I never described myself as a devout and practising Atheist ____________ (occupation inserted here) and our Dads and Grandads would never describe themselves as Christian pitmen, or Methodist traindrivers;  yep, they might go to Chapel or Church but what they did in their private lives wasn't shoved down the throats of everybody else. 

For those who might be interested the Beeb have a short film about 100 years of coal mining in Blighty;  Auntie also has some other mining films available on the same page.  All the usual stuff is there but it might be of some use to the whippersnappers on here who haven't a clue what some of us 'old timers' are on about.  I liked the bit showing a 10 pin bowling alley in a miners welfare club.

It's here:

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-35127257

GGG wrote: "What's the point of a publicly funded broadcasting organisation that has lost all perspective, and is controlled by an arrogant liberal-leftie elite! "

That is the point of our beloved Auntie, to windup the likes of Disgusted of Tunbridge Wells, Outraged of Ormskirk, and our very own Bemused of Bedlington

Sym says, "hurrah for the liberal-leftie elite!"

weby wrote: "Whaaaaat!!! The WHOLE EIGHT! How the hell are we going to defend our own country from the Terrorist backlash now?"

So, ALL of Sismercs Few have abandoned us to suffer at the hands of Ivan's Bears never mind the Terror Boys!  "Scramble, scramble, scramble ... oh, we've nowt left but a Gypsy Moth."

Spot on Maggs ... but, I can't get beyond the sight of so many smug, self-satisfied, pompous shysters pretending to care - and that's just the 'evil' Tory bast*rds.  What's awful is the sight of Camerooooony in full faux Churchill mode ... I'm sure he pictures himself during his wet dreams spouting off against the Nazzzi hordes and demanding rearmament whilst standing alongside the great man.  Oh, and he can't resist picturing Jezza as some sort of appeaser like the paper waving Chamberlain.  What'll be critical in the Lobby will be the number of Labour shysters who are running scared of their local party members (reselection). 

There's a valid POLITICAL purpose in going to war in Syria ... staying in the 'big boys club' and having some, influence  and being seen to back your allies.  There is no real MILITARY advantage to be gained by vapourising the sh*t out of local goat herders ... mark my words, we'll be hearing about more wedding parties, more hospitals, more kiddies being blasted to bits and seeing the unedifying sight of our great wartime leader saying these "raids were intelligence led" but "in war these things are unavoidable".

And, here's part of what The Daddy* had to say in his Guardian column today:

"Many of you will be reading this on a tablet made by a Chinese teenager using rare metals that an African child has scraped off the side of a hill with a spoon, then sent halfway round the world to you so you can smugly talk about how little paper you now use."

*Frankie Boyle

Read the whole thing here: http://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2015/dec/01/frankie-boyle-climate-change-drought-ocean-desperate

My money is on Napoléon Bonaparte beating Wellington and going on to conquer the World.  Just imagine ... every town and city in L'Angleterre having pavement cafes and bistros, rather than Whimpy bars; boulangeries, rather than Greggs; decent coffee, rather than Star*ucks dishwater; AND no big bunfights between Blighty and Fritz.  Oh, and we'd get to sing that beautiful anthem, La Marseillaise, instead of that dreadful dirge to Betty Saxe-Coburg and Gotha.

Julian Temple, the director of the film, also did an earlier movie about Wilko's band Dr Feelgood;  it was called Oil City Confidential.  I saw it on the Beeb some years ago - it was another great show with the band in full flow.  Lee Brilleaux (who died of Big C a few years ago) was the band's brilliant singer ... a true blues man.  I think the DVD of Oil City Confidential is available to buy.

I bought Going back Home - a CD by Wilko and Roger Daltrey last year - it really is good.  Blues at its best ... Daltrey really can sing and shout the blues and Wiko's guitar work is perfect. 

HPW wrote: "Thinking back,a suppose everybody got dressed in "Sunday best",when they went anywhere special,cos most folks had nowt except work clothes,

and "best" clothes.....nae big wardrobes full of designer-wear in them days!"

And not just anywhere special, like weddings and funerals.  My Uncle with the one arm who I've posted about before, would ALWAYS get dressed up in a black/dark grey suit, white shirt, tie, tiepin, and a single cufflnk (one arm) just to go to the West Allotment club on a Friday or Saturday night.  He'd pop into 'Hillses' (the local name for the Northumberland Arms) for a quick pint before going to the Club.  His 'empty' shirt sleeve was always folder up inside his jacket sleeve and held in place by a decorative silver pin - a bit like a shortish hat pin.  He looked really dapper.  As you say HPW, most of the guys took an effort to look good ... maybe it was because they were always covered in muck and dust during their shifts.

I reckon that most folks would think it would be better for these terror boys to be captured and brought back to face trial and, if convicted, to suffer a lifetime of very sore bottoms and the hands of the other lags in pokey.  The problem with trials is that the prosecution can't easily prevent embarrassing secrets emerging so it's tidier to blast the bxxxxxxx.s in some remote foreign field.   I don't have a problem with the terror boys being blasted to Hell ... if they're spotted with an AK-74 in their mitts then they're fair game for vapourization. However, drone killing wedding parties* is nothing short of state sponsored terror, perhaps it's also OK for the Frogs to murder that Greenpeace bloke when they blew up the ship in New Zealand.

Where to draw the line????

* code for usually inaccurate intelligence led targeting

'It' doesn't usually take long for 'It' to raise it's ugly head on social media/forums.

Probably a 'soup kitchen' for striking miners families.  There was a strike in 1921 when the Government gave back the pits to the 'coal owners' after war time nationalisation.  The miners were 'sold out' by the railway workers and the transport workers and so lost the fight (sounds familiar - a bit like when the the DUM & Nacods 'stiffed' the NUM in more recent times).  See here for National Archive link:

http://www.nationalarchives.gov.uk/cabinetpapers/alevelstudies/strike-buildup.htm

Cymp hasn't been on here since 2013.  Anybody know why?

We used to put our conks in the airing cupboard to dry out and become harder but you eventually came up against one that would beat you.  The string was also an important element ... the only stuff that seemed to be readily available snapped fairly easily so we used boot laces which because they were plaited never broke.

In the Karting Club run by Edgar 'Taffy' Williams at Westridge School we used to make the kart seats out of fibreglass;  the various resins came in blue gallon cans (I still remember the name of the supplier - Trylon) and when mixed with the catalyst would go 'rock' hard.  My Mum was a great home baker who had one of those icing syringe sets which I 'borrowed' and filled with some of resin during a club session in the school workshop and then injected a hollowed-out conk to fill the void.  When the stuff set a hole was drilled (on Taffy's drilling machine) through the conk for the lace ... and a champion was born.

My Mum never did find out what happened to her icing syringe ... all clagged-up with resin residue and dumped in the workshop bin.

Sorry for keep reminding the decent folks on here ... but Fritz does have 'form' on the immigration/alien question.  Perhaps the German Chancellor will dust-off that old playbook for methods for the repatriation of aliens ... that comment has a certain 'ring' to it.

GGG - Uncle Joe, whilst instigating some top-notch Soviet propaganda, was simply no match for the genius of Herr Goebbels;  his canon of work is truly impressive.

Typical modern Fritzy propaganda effort ... Dr Goebbels would be turning in his grave.

HPW - the search box is at the top of the page just below your username.

I got a tattoo when I was 20 - quite a big elephant's head just below my navel.  The inker told me to shave off the bush before he started, a quick mop-down with surgical spirit and off he went.  The pain was awful but Tough Old Sym gritted his gnashers as the art progressed;  Fanta looks splendid even after all these years, although he quickly grew a head of hair.  The worst part of the inking was detailing the end of his trunk.

What a wonderful sight.  All those New Labour losers attempting to stick it to Corbyn not realising the man is cloaked in the armour of the wider membership.  What have all his detractors got in common?  They all wear sharp suits, sport $100 dollar haircuts, and worst of all, wear cufflinks!  It was that vain Welsh windbag Kinnockkk who started the rot ... the first Labour leader to 'proudly' wear cufflinks, not just any old cufflinks but cufflinks habitually tugged-down to show below his jacket sleeves.  Thankfully, the bald git didn't have enought locks to sport the $100 dollar haircut but went for the 'poor man's' Scargill/Charlton comb over;  he would have looked less ridiculous topped by a cheapo rug.  This man took himself so seriously when all around him thought he was a pompous clown.  Then we've got all of warcrim Blairs old bag carriers (all cufflink wearers, like their Master) slagging Corbyn off from their cushy, well paid sinecures in the City and the weapons manufacturers boardrooms;  just like Kinnockkk but with more hair and better complexions.

Remember what Wise Old Sym wrote in post 2 above ... "Nah, never trust a man who wears cufflinks and sports a $100 dollar haircut. My vote goes to Jeremy Corbyn ... one of the last dinosaurs."

HPW, Betty Saxe-Coburg and Gotha is what all right-thinking folks call that 'placewoman' squatting on Blighty's top chair;  the placewoman (and her spawn) suckin' the Nation dry.  Remember, during that first big bun fight with Fritz Betty's gang changed their Fritzy family name to a more Anglicised  one (Windsor) so they could continue to rob poor old Blighty. 

So, Betty Saxe-Coburg and Gotha's English means The Queen's English.​

Ah, just to remember that wonderful night in July 1918 in Yekaterinburg.

Not just Levi's and Wranglers but I used to get my Ben Sherman shirts there as well.  The novelty was negotiating the old cinema's sloping floor on a Sunday* morning (after a heavy night suppin' & tokin') to wander between the racks and stacks.  I bought a fantastic pin-striped dishdasha (an ankle-length, collarless Arab style shirt/gown) in there.  What a sight to behold, covered in my dishdasha and my Goan sandals I could have been lifted straight out of the Lawrence of Arabia movie.  Ah, happy days.

*back then nothing retail was open on a Sunday and I recall Nigel (the bloke who ran the place) being prosecuted in various attempts to close him down.

Just like the old days when up against Fritz:

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-kent-34174822

HPW - here's a hook to snare an agent ... a bilingual book.  Every alternative page in Betty Saxe-Coburg and Gotha's English juxtaposed with a Pitmatic translation.  Killing two birds with one stone ... telling your tale AND keeping a local language alive (or at least on life support).

There's a huge appetite for memoirs based on now defunct industries, especially the mines and the shipyards.  To gain the widest audience it's best to avoid those publishers who do things like "Town X through the ages" as they restrict the possibility of a wider readership - in a sense the stuff is only of interest to the locals.  A carefully selected Literary Agent will be a mine of good advice and contacts who'll help to steer a project in the right direction ... however, the trick is to 'hook' the agent on just how interesting the project is.

Basic housekeeping ... my Uncle Arthur was a 'pump man' underground all his working life (from leaving school at 14 maybe even younger until he was 65).  He started at the Algernon (West Allotment) as a boy and when that closed moved to Backworth, High Pit, and Wheatslade, although I can't remember in what order.  He was always a pump man due to only having one arm ... he lost it in a train accident when he was about 6 years old on the old line through West Allotment.  I'm impressed that he was able to get a job back then with that disability, although it probably helped that all the other blokes in the family worked the Algernon so maybe put in a good word to the Manager.

Interesting observations about Bates and the possibility of remedial action which could reinstate it to a working pit (ditto, those big super pits down in Yorks & Notts).  I suppose it would only happen if the 'balloon went up' and imports became impossible.  Of course one problem would be that all the blokes with the mining expertise will all have gone by then.