I have a feeling that all freepers are actually gossiping women, the type who sit there with pursed lips discussing someone saying oh isn't it bad they have fallen on hard times and lots of mock sympathy while secretly rubbing their hands before settling down into a good old bitch fest while tucking into a jumbo large size gut buster
<< ,,, your son has talent and mobility Brian. He'll be just fine. We both know that. >>
Of course he has and of course we do. And [Don't let on to any of FR's froth and foam flecked British bait-takers] I love visiting him, although a bit less this month than last as he just moved up to London, [Islamabad Lite] from Clifton Village, Bristol, one of my favorite spots on the planet. And where his place had a view of Brunel's beautiful bridge - and was an easy drive to Padstow and Rick Stein's place. [AKA 'Padstein'] Which is - after Doyles at Watson's Bay in Sydney - the world's second best fish and chip shop.
Good to see you have bit of a buy British beef you bastards bloviate there, Tony - but what about the meat of Mr Steyn's royal roasting?
We might have a bit of an exchange of frivolities, inanities and insults of a non-injurious nature - but Mr Steyn is as usual on to something wouldn't you say?
And/or haven't you, like the schoolteacher, made Mr Steyn's very point? "For crying out loud, man, get a grip. It puts every job 'in doubt.' It puts the continued existence of your country in doubt.'"
Mr Steyn is observing that Scotland is on track to at some future time achieving independence as North Yemen while the rest of what was once Great Britain is degenerating into being but the stamping grounds for God alone knows who and what.
And you're concerned that a few poo-stirrers made you feel like taking your marbles and going home?
Cheers, Mate - Brian