WashYourHands

Cat Malogen
Have found myself in traffic mulling over kicking their front doors in, old man’s gleaming shotgun and pockets full of shells, boom, boom. That creepy half a pedo Derby cunt pleading for his life, on his knees, shaking, daring to appease his cowboy bs with a jar of jam. Fuck off. Boom. What’s that, it’s going to take 12 months instead of 6? Boom, boom

Miserable cunts, if they had half a heart between them there’d be a community but they opted out years ago
 

woops

is not like other people
Have found myself in traffic mulling over kicking their front doors in, old man’s gleaming shotgun and pockets full of shells, boom, boom. That creepy half a pedo Derby cunt pleading for his life, on his knees, shaking, daring to appease his cowboy bs with a jar of jam. Fuck off. Boom. What’s that, it’s going to take 12 months instead of 6? Boom, boom

Miserable cunts, if they had half a heart between them there’d be a community but they opted out years ago
One for the fantasies thread
 

IdleRich

IdleRich
This is something I think about a lot. The way that these old communities that used to exist are somehow automatically deemed better than the - often internet generated - ones that are replacing them. Where I came from they were great... unless you were gay or black or liked reading books or ever thought about leaving Uffington or if you were even slightly different from anyone else in any way whatsoever. They bonded less cos they liked each other and more cos they hated everyone else.
 

WashYourHands

Cat Malogen
Don’t believe Gus’ fibs about any American utopia of hospitality

There are no scraps in the red, white and blue scrapbook, only sunglasses in winter so they can’t look into each other’s souls
 

IdleRich

IdleRich
I used to know one of the guys in the shop on Dalston Lane, helped him out writing letters a couple of times cos his English was not that good.
I remember one time that I spent ages helping him to write a letter.... then I finished it and I wanted to buy some stuff, just a few little random things such as some sweets and so on. I put all put my coins on the counter and realised that I was 1p short. I suggested that, maybe, seeing as I had just given up my afternoon to helping him, he could in turn let me off the one penny shortfall - he stared at me as though I had just asked to bum his mother and then told me no fucking way in hell. Miserable git.
 

IdleRich

IdleRich
is your family still living there? and when you visit them, do people look funny at you?
They moved from the tiny village of Uffington (pop approx 800 or so I guess) to the town of Wantage (20k maybe).
Before that though there were incidents such as the following which I think I described before; I was in the pub and I went to the toilet and when I came back someone had left a note on my chair saying "shit staber". Another time I remember some kind of altercation in the boozer and the landlord basically said "Yeah I know he was totally out of order and he shouldn't have tried to start a fight with you etc etc but you will go back to university in September and he drinks in here every single day of his miserable bitter existence, or in other words, ultimately it's him and others like him who pay my wages so I'm gonna be on his side and if anyone has to be banned, it will be you".
 

yyaldrin

in je ogen waait de wind
They moved from the tiny village of Uffington (pop approx 800 or so I guess) to the town of Wantage (20k maybe).
Before that though there were incidents such as the following which I think I described before; I was in the pub and I went to the toilet and when I came back someone had left a note on my chair saying "shit staber". Another time I remember some kind of altercation in the boozer and the landlord basically said "Yeah I know he was totally out of order and he shouldn't have tried to start a fight with you etc etc but you will go back to university in September and he drinks in here every single day of his miserable bitter existence, or in other words, ultimately it's him and others like him who pay my wages so I'm gonna be on his side and if anyone has to be banned, it will be you".
oh man it sounds like hell on earth. there was a time where i thought having my own bar would be the coolest job there is. i could decorate it the way i want, put on the music i like, organize events. but it's terrible isn't it? i mean, even if it would be a nice bar and not the bar in uffington, still you would have to serve assholes and hear all the melodramatic drunk stories.
 

suspended

Well-known member
I do remember that Rich, you were quite popular with the locals; they ushered us in plied us with wine and seafood.
 

IdleRich

IdleRich
They moved from the tiny village of Uffington (pop approx 800 or so I guess) to the town of Wantage (20k maybe).
Before that though there were incidents such as the following which I think I described before; I was in the pub and I went to the toilet and when I came back someone had left a note on my chair saying "shit staber". Another time I remember some kind of altercation in the boozer and the landlord basically said "Yeah I know he was totally out of order and he shouldn't have tried to start a fight with you etc etc but you will go back to university in September and he drinks in here every single day of his miserable bitter existence, or in other words, ultimately it's him and others like him who pay my wages so I'm gonna be on his side and if anyone has to be banned, it will be you".
In fact now I remember it properly, although I was there, it was actually my friend he said that to, he was another "university weirdo" who fell on the wrong side of the able-to-escape-to-freedom/trapped-in-Uffington-forever divide as far as certain people were concerned.

For the purposes of this thread I want you to visualise Uffington - unless you had the magical key in the form of a spell called a degree - one of those enchanted gardens where when you think you have escaped the path somehow doubles back and you find yourself frustratingly back at the centre. Or maybe as Portmeirion in its capacity as The Village in The Prisoner, except here your attempts at leaving find themselves blocked by a sinister magical tractor driven by a yokel in a wife beater.

I'm thinking here particularly of Vince - actually not one of the worst of the denizens of the village, but when I brought a girlfriend to stay I was shocked by his genuine and oft-expressed mystification that a woman that attractive could somehow choose to spend time with a dweeb like me who was considerably shorter than him and didn't even wear a loose-fitting wifebeater to display his muscular arms.
 

IdleRich

IdleRich
oh man it sounds like hell on earth. there was a time where i thought having my own bar would be the coolest job there is. i could decorate it the way i want, put on the music i like, organize events. but it's terrible isn't it? i mean, even if it would be a nice bar and not the bar in uffington, still you would have to serve assholes and hear all the melodramatic drunk stories.
I probably am being too down it. I mean, I did choose to go there and it wasn't as though those sorts of incidents happened all the time... but they are what stick in my mind, and, more than that, there was always this feeling that something like that could happen. Or just that I wasn't a proper local, even though I was born about 10 miles away and moved to the village when I was six months old.
 

IdleRich

IdleRich
I do remember that Rich, you were quite popular with the locals; they ushered us in plied us with wine and seafood.
Ha ha, maybe not quite, but that guy Fred is a good friend of mine. But usually that whole bit of the street is filled with the overspill of that and the places opposite and next door with the customers and staff of all three mingling as one and seemingly becoming interchangeable. It feels as though you could order in one and somehow ended up seated in another, served by the owner of yet another.

In busier times the top of that street is awful though, loads of drunken tourists congregate there and fake drug dealers to sell them chalk. At one point a politician or something walked past and went on telly to complain about the open air drug market so the police were stung into making occasional raids. Suddenly you would see the dealers all come legging it down the main road and police popping out of the side streets, looking - as Fred put it - like goalies trying to catch a shot. Those they catch never have anything so they are back on the street next day anyways.
 

IdleRich

IdleRich
But to me the most important communities are the ones I chose to be part of. Dissensus is a good one for example. On NYE we were in our home town and we went out for a walk at midnight watching all the local yute throwing fireworks at birds etc and I said to Liza "what if we met got chatting to some people and invited ourselves to some kind of party here and met the local party types?" and she basically expressed a feeling something like "no fucking way". She wants Santa Iria to be a sort of safe haven where we get away from parties and clubs and stuff, she is happy to go in Chatterbox and say hello to a few random locals (you gotta be careful though, they get really excited about foreigners, last time it was really hard to get away cos each time we finished a drink someone else tried to buy us a new one - you don't want to be rude, but at the same time you have to keep a lid on that kind of thing).
 

Mr. Tea

Shub-Niggurath, Please
2 of our neighbours have ongoing work with their roofs, I want them all dead
You know how people sometimes say that in France, you can pretty much get away with murdering your spouse if they were shagging someone else? Well it's obviously bollocks, but whatever. There should, in any case, be an equivalent law about murdering your neighbours if they have construction work done that goes on longer than a week.
 
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