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| Stolen, with The Rake's order on board. |
So, if any of you happen to see this van around London today, and with all the Brodies branding on the sides, it's not hard to miss, please inform the police. Breweries in Britain have a hard enough time as it is without mindless idiots stealing their property as well!
7 comments:
I might of saw it in a traffic jam in Turin. It had been repainted. It seemed weighed down as if containing a quantity of a heavy metal. The song "The Self Preservation Society" was blaring out of it.
Er Glyn old cock, what have you done ?
You've brought back THAT photo, mucked about with the design of your blog to such an extent that it's almost unreadable(geysish white on black is not a good choice for a typecase colour)and the hops background detracts rather than improves everything.Keep it simple you numpty.
Anyway, rant over, did you ever do the Man v Beer challenge ?
There's no shame in failure old bean !
PS:
I was going to send this as a private email but, of course, on your newly designed blog the address is impossible to find.
I shall be in the Rake soon and will expect a vomit-by-vomit debrief if you don't want to write about it on here.
PPS: You're not alone.
Pete Brown's blog is equally as bad - piling on the poncey artwork when really all you need is clarity.
Boak and Bailey, The Beer Nut and Tandleman are great examples of how to keep blogs readable.
Christ, I sound a miserable git I know but I'm on the wagon for a week or two and this is what happens.
More importantly I suppose, was the Brodies beer van ever found ?
So anyway this feller meets a tart who invites him back home.
" I'll give you £500 if I can do absolutely anything I want to you " he says.
She agrees and on his instructions climbs on top of a wardrobe which she bangs with her leg, while flashing the light switch on and off with her left hand and flicking him with water from a bucket with her right while occasionally sipping from a bottle of London Pride.
" Ooh, the wardrobe banging sounds like thunder, the lights flashing is lightning and the water is rain pouring down " he moans, while stroking his erect member.
The tart keeps it up for half an hour before getting tired and says to the punter " You've paid £500 to do whatever you want to do, so what do you want to do "
He replies " In this weather you must be fucking joking. "
Same feller meets another tart the next night with the same deal.
Back at her place he instructs her to get naked, go over to the corner of the room,bend down and touch her toes.
Three hours goes by and nothing happens.Her back is killing her. she's fed up of looking at the skirting board and she's still bending down touching her toes.
" Okay " she says,talking to the punter from between her legs " you've paid £500 to do whatever you want to me all night.What do you want to do ? "
" I'm finished love " he says,pulling on his trousers, " I took a dump in your handbag a couple of hours ago.Here's the £500 I owe you. "
Glyn, I'm worried about your lack of activity.
It seems to be encouraging all sorts of poltroons and ne'er-do-wells to post terrible jokes.
Get your act together old cock.
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