The Ballad Of Jim
Cue wavy lines....lets go back to 1990 and the day when the youthful osok entered the University system.............

All the n'erdowells, smokers, dossers and assorted scum had ben segregated on the bottom floor of the Belsen Stylee Hell that was St Mary's Hall in the quaint, inbred, and frankly mountainous town of Bangor. The second floor was for the posh kids, and the third floor was the home of Pfhlange. Pussy. Location for your locomotion, if you get the drift.

Jimbo, now, arrived a day later. We all thought he was some sort of Middle Eastern refugee, down to the dodgy 'tash.

Turned out to be a brummie Git.

There are photos of me strangling him to Deth, him getting his kit off and prancing naked around the hall when Engerland lost at t'Rugby, I may allegedly have driven him home 200 miles after introducing him to Tequila, all in all we had a fun time (especially when I hit him with a building, but that's another story).

After ten years, the conversation just clicks back into place. We call each other wankers, have a beer, and all is in place as it was so many years before.

And a week or two ago, I was priviledged enough to be his best man, as he was mine.

(I wasn't allowed to take the photos, the powerpoint presentaion , or the DNA evidence along, however.

Jim, I salute you. A genuinely nice bloke. My potential brother in arms. Without doubt the brother I never had. And A brummie Git.

Remember. folks, they're not always from hell, sometimes, they're from Solihull.

Respect Jimlad.
(osok Rebel without a clue, Thu 26 Feb 2009, 22:10, 1 reply)

Haha I'm a brummie git.
Although I usually get away with it because my housemate is a massive buffoon from Wolverhampton.
( Slippery Mick ‏, Sun 1 Mar 2009, 22:22, closed)