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Celebrity autobiographies are filled to the brim with self-righteous tales of smug oneupmanship. So, forget you had any shame, grab a coffee and a croissant, and tell us your smug tales of when you got one over somebody.
Thanks to Ring of Fire for the suggestion
( , Thu 3 Feb 2011, 12:55)
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My brothers and I never sat down for a meal. My mother and father sat down at a table but we had to stand along the counter - and we couldn't leave until we had permission. And we weren't allowed to speak at table - if we spoke Dad would yell, "Let your meal stop your mouth!" No matter how tired we were, we had to stand. Yeah, they were eccentric.
Now I have dinners lounging on the sofa in front of the box every damn night. And I talk with my mouth full. Ha, ha, Daddy!
Apols for lack of funnies etc.
( , Mon 7 Feb 2011, 10:26, 15 replies)
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so we never ate at a table as kids, except on a Sunday if we were lucky.
There was a fold-down mangle in the kitchen where you could sit if you got there first. My sister politely asked one day 'May I leave the mangle?'
( , Mon 7 Feb 2011, 12:40, closed)
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it were more a broken pallet propped up on bricks. Wi' an old raggy sheet fer a tablecloth.
( , Mon 7 Feb 2011, 12:51, closed)
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Wi used to eat us tea - I say tea, it were moo-er scrapin's off t't side of t't septic tank - off t't bottom o' t't quarry, AND we used to lick us plates clean, AND we used to get a thrashin' if we asked fer seconds, but we STILL asked ev'ry night. Med a man oot o' me.
( , Mon 7 Feb 2011, 12:58, closed)
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We used to make do with taking it in turns to suck a dish cloth dry when I was a lad. We used to dream of plates.
( , Mon 7 Feb 2011, 13:35, closed)
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We had ter lie outside at t'bottom o't'wastepipe sharin' a straw. Well, I say straw, it were more like a needle from a junkie's syringe.
( , Mon 7 Feb 2011, 16:01, closed)
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We 'ad ter crouch round an old rusty bit of barbed wire that'd been used to scratch a leper's suppurating arse so he could rub MASSIVE DRUGS into the weeping wound.
Then he'd throw up on it, and then IF we'd been good we were allowed to lick the sick off.
( , Mon 7 Feb 2011, 22:26, closed)
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we used to live in a shoe box in fast lane of M1. We had to walk miles in our barefeet up hard shoulder covered in broken glass just for a glimpse of some barbed wire.
But, you try telling that to t' kids of today and they won't believe you.
( , Tue 8 Feb 2011, 7:48, closed)
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Ya pampered sod!
When I wer a lad, we used to av to sleep in the shower drain of t'local 'ealth club. Woke up every mornin' covered in bleach.
Toen nails for supper, clagnuts for breakfast. If we comlained I got a beatin' wi' rusty squash racquets. The tetanus makes me feel like a man.
( , Tue 8 Feb 2011, 11:58, closed)
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Ya posh bastids.
It wor nowt burra broken stick in my day!
( , Tue 8 Feb 2011, 12:43, closed)
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We couldn't afford a broken stick, we had to make do wi' a bit of hay that were floatin' in t' gutter, and we'd get flogged 97 hours a day to make up fut lack of stickifulness, and then we wus made to go out and lick t'gutter clean. But we were 'appy.
( , Tue 8 Feb 2011, 21:57, closed)
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I had to get up in the morning at ten o'clock at night, eat a lump of cold poison, work twenty-nine hours a day down mill, and pay mill owner for permission to come to work, and when we got home, our Dad would kill us, and dance about on our graves singing "Hallelujah."
( , Tue 8 Feb 2011, 23:41, closed)
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