Real England

Where is that please?

on Beverley Road in Hull, two old rail carriages living in an arch under a rail bridge, it's v. rough and ready but the booze is cheap, the drinkers are lovely and the music is 60s/70s joy

it's v. ull and therefore v. england, albeit the mad seafaring slightly vikingy exclave of england

got a horrible feeling i'm going back there in a bit

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R9pRBL1oYHA

A pattie is a fried mashed potato dish, originating in the north-east of England. It is thought to have been invented in Kingston upon Hull, East Riding of Yorkshire where patties are readily available. The original pattie is a mix of mashed potato and sage blended together and made into a disc or square shape, then covered in batter and fried, much like a fish cake.

Never had an urge to visit Hull before, but that does look cool.

everybody shd visit Hull, i'm available for guided tours on request

Is the Adelphi still there?

somehow, against all odds, yes

wd tour hull with nv.

work drinks last night at a pub that does v good indian food. got gloomy and down on myself so left early. apparently someone's curry never came. i walked for miles down this stretch of road. took shit photos. felt like real england all of it rly.

http://i1142.photobucket.com/albums/n601/gamalielratsey/2012-10-16211843.jpg

http://i1142.photobucket.com/albums/n601/gamalielratsey/2012-10-16212102.jpg

http://i1142.photobucket.com/albums/n601/gamalielratsey/2012-10-16212547.jpg

those huge semis are v. real england

is that like perivale or somewhere

it always seems strange seeing those identikit 30s sleepy suburban semis next to a dual carriageway

both otm - tho it's hounslow/heathrow/a4 rather than perivale, tho i was in perivale the other day. 50m pool for some reason. A wall comes up after the morning 50m swim and makes it into two 25m pools. weird.

walked past one of those semis earlier in the day (they often have sketchy cracked driveways rather than a front garden) and the front room curtains were open and inside it was empty apart from a large tarpaulin covered motorbike or m'bike plus sidecar or something.

i could go and find houses exactly like that along some of the tonier streets of Hull. toney for Hull, anyway. but we have some oddball, tattier properties with almost spire-like or battlement-y roofs

or a minaret, even

http://www.arc-online.co.uk/retrieve/1296f0659fc4fc009d506042dd683382

I keep on urging all my friends to move to Hull with me, on the proviso that it's still the cheapest place to live in the UK. And Spiders is still open.

Through various means i discovered the other day that the lowest priority BBC regional news channel is Hull.

those battlement roofs used to amaze me as a kid. such a literal intepretation of an englishman's home is his castle. used to fantasize about hiding up there and shooting at nazis goosestepping down the street should world war 2 ever happen to have kicked off again

the suggestion of hidden derangement behind the twitching lace curtains seems such an artifact of british culture that it would be surprising not to find something untowards

the realest suburban house would be one recently reclaimed by an absentee buy-to-let landlord after a vietnamese grow-op has fled, nothing but soiled carpets, walls hacked apart to bypass the mains and a damp ganja smell that will never disappear

I keep on urging all my friends to move to Hull with me, on the proviso that it's still the cheapest place to live in the UK.

this does make it difficult to leave, willingly or otherwise hohoho

I keep on urging all my friends to move to Hull with me, on the proviso that it's still the cheapest place to live in the UK. And Spiders is still open.

― emil.y, Wednesday, October 17, 2012 11:32 PM (3 minutes ago)

some of the london councils with housing shortages are sending ppl to middlesbrough i think

the suggestion of hidden derangement behind the twitching lace curtains seems such an artifact of british culture that it would be surprising not to find something untowards

the realest suburban house would be one recently reclaimed by an absentee buy-to-let landlord after a vietnamese grow-op has fled, nothing but soiled carpets, walls hacked apart to bypass the mains and a damp ganja smell that will never disappear

Leadville, the book on the A40 by.. someone, is pretty good on some of this sort of stuff.

http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/5/53/Hope_Island.JPG/640px-Hope_Island.JPG

The 32-year-old from Kent spent her first night of married life in jail and was still wearing her wedding dress when she arrested by police in the early hours of yesterday morning.

She was released without charge as the 29-year-old victim did not want to press charges.

The groom, a 54-year-old man, was treated at the scene for a cut to his elbow by paramedics after he tried to intervene in the fight.

realest

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2245908/Priest-shocks-mourners-fathers-funeral-eulogy-detailing-life-crime.html

http://www.thisisstaffordshire.co.uk/Lightwood-death-crash-driver-Terri-Ann-Harrington/story-17523482-detail/story.html

RIP brother. You will be sadly missed. Meir lad through n through and as game as they come.

Same goes for Jim as well, another top notch Stokie.

The lads will be having a drink for you tonight in the Staff.

GOD BLESS

http://i.imgur.com/e2Hcm.jpg

oh god

http://i1142.photobucket.com/albums/n601/gamalielratsey/F94A4BC5-BC04-4103-8165-525A647862C6-584-000000485DB019CC_zps869d9296.jpg

This sort of red brick and glass building.

also, i've been meaning to update with the latest wetherspoons news, cos the most recent editorial about how wetherspoons pays more in taxes than it makes was a-grade.

Two mums were hauled into court after they fled United star Rio Ferdinand’s celeb-haunt restaurant without paying.

Carla Stanway and Nicole Wainwright, both 24, racked up a £110 food and drink bill at Rosso on?Spring Gardens in Manchester city centre – but were so boozed up they were told to leave, a court heard.

They refused to pay and left the trendy nightspot, but police quickly tracked them down to Sacha’s Hotel, off Market Street.

Manchester magistrates court heard how officers also found a crude, home-made weapon – a metal ball in a knotted sock – in Stanway’s bag, which she claimed was ‘for self-defence’.

At the time of the offence, the two mums were already on bail for a vile racist rant outside Sugar Buddha on Deansgate Locks a month earlier.

Stanway, a single mum, told one of the bouncers ‘go back to your own country Polish b******’. But when collared by police a few moments later, she begged: “Please don’t arrest me, I have a three-week-old baby.”

http://www.manchestereveningnews.co.uk/news/greater-manchester-news/suspended-jail-sentence-drunken-mums-1322799

http://media.global.tilllate.com/eventflyers/1h1gmbvp25w0tm4i8g1mk8nrg_19jfni14t1.jpeg

vile racist bantz

i know he supports chelsea but maybe give trev the benefit of the doubt there deems

a metal ball. what like a boule? a modern variation on the sockful of shillings or billiard balls I guess and a handy alternative to the tightly rolled-up tabloid struck firmly upwards into the underside of the chin.

Ah yes, the Millwall Brick.

http://oi45.tinypic.com/20ixa3q.jpg

even when i know people wd probly be a pain in the arse irl i can't help warming to them slightly when they become demonised Mail monsters

clearly calling someone a "Polish b***************" is not cool but then neither is being a gutter hack so

yeah i am pretty sure I would find them terrifying but they have some reasonable things to say:

When police caught up with them at a nearby hotel, they unleashed a foul-mouthed tirade, calling them “c***s” and “f***ing horrible bastards”.

yeah, you have to acknowledge the broad sentiment of their argument there

I can't think of a b-word with that many stars in it.

butylmethoxydibenzoyl

yep, plastered public swearing is admirable.

Now beginneth Glutton for to go to shrift,
And caireth him to church-ward his coupe to shew.
As Betty the Brewer bade him good morrow
And with that asked of him whitherward he would.
“To Holy Church,” quoth he, “for to hear mass,
And since I will be shriven, and sin no more.”
“I have good ale, gossip,” quoth she, “Glutton, wilt thou assay?”
“Hast thou,” quoth he, “any hot spices?”
“I have pepper and peony,” quoth she, “and a pound of garlic,
A farthingworth of fennel seed for fasting days.”
Then goeth Glutton in, and great oaths after.
Cess the Souteress sat on the bench,
Wat the Warrener and his wife both,
Tim the Tinker and twain of his knaves,
Hick the Hackneyman and Hugh the Needler,
Clarice of Cock’s Lane and the Clerk of the church,
Sir Piers of Pridie and Pernelle of Flanders,
Davey the Diker, and a dozen others:
A Ribibour, a Ratoner, a Rakiere of Cheap(side),
A Roper, a Riding-king, and Rose the Disher,
Godfrey of Garlic-hithe and Griffin the Welsh,
And of upholders an heap, early by the morrow,
Gave Glutton with glad cheer good ale to hansel.
Clement the Cobbler cast off his cloak,
And at the new fair named it to sell.
Hick the Hackneyman hit his hood after,
And bade Betty the Butcher be on his side.
There were chapmen y-chosen this chaffer to price:
Whoso had the hood should have amends of the cloak.
They rose up in rap and rouned together,
And priced the pennyworths apart by themselves.
There were oaths an heap, for one should have the worse;
They could not by their conscience accord in truth,
Till Robin the Roper arise they besought,
And named him for an umpire, that no debate were.
Hick the Hosteller had the cloak
In covenant that Clement should the cup fill
And have Hick the Hosteller’s hood, and hold him y-served;
And whoso repented rathest should arise after soonest
And greet Sir Glutton with a gallon ale.
There was laughing and louring and “Let go the cup!”
Bargains and beverages began to arise;
And sat so till evensong, and sang awhile,
Till Glutton had y-glubbed a gallon and a gill.
His guts began to gothele as two greedy sows;
He pissed a pot in a Paternoster-while,
And blew his round ruwet at his ruggebone’s end,
That all that heard that horn held their nose after
And wished it had been waxed with a wisp of furze!
He might neither step nor stand ere he his staff had,
And then gan he to go like a glee-man’s bitch
Sometimes a-side and sometimes a-rear,
As whoso layeth lines for to latch fowls.
And when he drew to the door, then dimmed his eyes;
He thrumbled on the threshfold and threw to the earth.
Clement the Cobbler caught him by the middle
For to lift him aloft, and laid him on his knees.
As Glutton was a great churl and a grim in the lifting,
And coughed up a cawdel in Clement’s lap.
Is none so hungry hound in Hertfordshire
Durst lap up that leaving, so unlovely it smelt!
With all the woe of this world, his wife and his wench servant
Bore him to his bed and brought him therein;
And after all this excess he had an accidie,
That he slept Saturday and Sunday, till sun went to rest.
Then waked he of his winking and wiped his eyes;
The first word that he spoke was — “Where is the bowl?”

that makes me want to drink v much.

yah me too

Realest of Englands

the conviviality and licentiousness of daytime drinking is a thing of beauty and wonder, especially on a hangover, barreling about town, and laughing a lot, which I simply cannot sustain any more.