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Fletchery and Bowyery

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200149.  Tue Aug 14, 2007 10:59 am Reply with quote

Unfortunately I am old enough to recognise that phrase.

Never seen it written down before, though.

200194.  Tue Aug 14, 2007 1:34 pm Reply with quote

Tas wrote:
And that is your reason for a sticky keyboard, Dr B?


(Apologies to those too old/too young to recognise that phrase stating disbelief).



Sounds a bit like Glesga tae me: "d'ye nae reckon".

Big Al
200533.  Wed Aug 15, 2007 10:41 am Reply with quote

Tas wrote:

We always accompanied this with "Jimmy Hill", when I were a lad.

200547.  Wed Aug 15, 2007 11:09 am Reply with quote

That'd be the one, Big Al.



200596.  Wed Aug 15, 2007 2:04 pm Reply with quote

Come to think, it has the flavour of Rab C. Nesbit to it.

200757.  Thu Aug 16, 2007 3:50 am Reply with quote

Since we're still talking about language north of the border, cocks, and beavers, I just thought I'd share this verse by Scotland's national bard which had, up 'till now, not been known to me:

Nine Inch Will Please a Lady
(Robert Burns)

Come rede me dame, come tell me dame,
My dame come tell me truly,
What length o' graith when weel ca'd hame
Will sair a woman duly?"
The carlin clew her wanton tail,
Her wanton tail sae ready,
"l learn'd a sang in Annandale,
Nine inch will please a lady."

"But for a koontrie cunt like mine,
In sooth we're not sae gentle;
We'll tak tway thumb-bread to the nine,
And that is a sonsy pintle.
Oh, Leeze me on, my Charlie lad,
I'll ne'er forget my Charlie,
Tway roaring handfuls and a daud
He nidged it in fu' rarely."

But wear fa' the laithron doup
And may it ne'er be thriving,
It's not the length that makes me loup
But it's the double drivin.
Come nidge me Tom, come nidge me Tom
Come nidge me, o'er the nyvel
Come lowse an lug your battering ram
And thrash him at my gyvel!

graith=gear, equipment; clew=scratched, fondled;
tway thum-bread=two thumb-breadths; sonsy=healthy;
daud=a lump, a bit; laithron=lazy; doup=rump;

I bet they never sang that one on the White Heather Club :)

200767.  Thu Aug 16, 2007 4:04 am Reply with quote

I didn't learn that one at school.

200770.  Thu Aug 16, 2007 4:12 am Reply with quote

this whole thing is beginning to remind me more and more forcibly of the piano masterclass sketch. as in i can't stop thinking of stephen saying "cock high" and giggling to myself. it's sort of lucky for my long-suffering co-workers that i can't watch youtube here or i'd just watch the sketch for the rest of the morning... anyway... is it actually possible to debate any topic in the whole wide world on these here boards without sliding down the slippery slope leading to the mucky morast of double entendre? *rolls eyes* (that was a rhethorical question, btw)



200774.  Thu Aug 16, 2007 4:16 am Reply with quote

I think dr.bob's post was pretty much a single intender.

200779.  Thu Aug 16, 2007 4:21 am Reply with quote

hm yeah... it had to get to that point first, though, down the aforementioned slippery slope... ;-)

a good cocker would think nothing of cleaning his cock's wounded head by sticking it in his mouth and sucking it clean...



200780.  Thu Aug 16, 2007 4:22 am Reply with quote

You've got to admire such flexibility :)

200893.  Thu Aug 16, 2007 6:36 am Reply with quote

Takes years of practice, I'd imagine...

200904.  Thu Aug 16, 2007 6:44 am Reply with quote

Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear....



201126.  Thu Aug 16, 2007 1:17 pm Reply with quote

Here is a link to a site celebrating Burns and his works. Near the bottom of the page is a link to a pdf file (you'll need Acrobat Reader or similar) containing a number of poems and songs written and collected by the poet, and published after his death. Before his death, he kept them locked in a drawer, and only showed them to people he trusted. The song posted by dr.bob is not untypical of them.

201492.  Fri Aug 17, 2007 11:00 am Reply with quote

One of the extremely coarse songs I remember singing in good company years ago was one called "The Balls of Kirriemuir", which I understood to have been composed by Robert Burns.
It went something like this:
"Four and twenty virgins came doon fra' Inverness,
"And when the Ball was over there were four and twenty less,
"Singing 'Balls to your partner, backs agin the wall,
"If ye've niver bin fucked of a Sa'urday nicht,
"Ye've niver bin fucked at all!"
That's all I can remember, now.
I did not learn that at school, either.


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