Saturday, December 30

Happy Birthday Dale

Happy Birthday Chief!




















It's Dale's Birthday! Look, here he is with his Spiderman stuff! He fucking loves Spiderman, does Dale. I think it's the tight lycra and the nerdy-bloke-becomes-superhero bit that sends him into blissful dreams at night.

Anyway chief, have a good 'un, we'll no doubt see more of you as the night wears on!

As an additional gift to you fella (and hey, to all of you in fact!), click here to see some real cute pussy!

Thursday, December 28

Dream Team Update

We know you lot have been waiting forever so I've taken it on myself (as Pete never reads the Sun) to give us an all important update on the scores. And, I am so glad I did....

1st Me- 771 points
2nd Dale and Emma - 729pts
3rd Keith - 729pts (alphabetic mate, sorry!!)
4th Graham - 715pts
5th Joanne - 679pts
6th Pete - 650pts
7th KG Senior - 649pts
8th JB Heaney - 524pts
9th Annette - 304pts

We have a transfer window soon as well don't we?

Slightly Late (I've not been well....)

Sunday, December 24

Merry Christmas Chiefs!

We at the Wallet wish you and your's a very merry Chrimbo, and hey, even a happy new year.

Now get drinking. I expect your livers to be fucked when we see you next.

Wednesday, December 13

New Tin Tin



Getting me through life these cartoons.

Tuesday, December 12

More Blasphemy

Friday, December 8

Trip To Tottenham - Pew, Pew, Barney McGrew etc.







































































































Of course, that's a joke with no malice involved.

Myself, KG and tiny-part-time walleteer Emma Miller went to Tottenham the other night. Spurs, of course, are well known for their Jewish-ness (Jewosity?), but hey, we Boro fans are too proud to take advantage of that to provide some funny songs, aren't we?

Well, 499 of the 500 Teessiders present were too proud, but one of our mob, one of 500 who had gone out of their way to see a Tuesday night game, thought this would be fucking brilliant.

Chants were exchanged; "You've never won fuck all!" came the Spurs hordes, clearly ignorant of that famous day in Cardiff when KG drank most of Wales dry. We expertly responded with, er, "You've never won fuck all!" when in fact Spurs have won fucking loads. First team to do the domestic double methinks? Anyhow.

It went on like this for a while, until, unexpectedly, a cockney voice (MFC supporters south) pipes up with; "There's only one Rudolf Hess!"

Fucking hell! Big strong innit? Nervous laughter echoed around the away end. Nobody knew where to look. KG asked who Rudolf Hess was. I told him he was the keyboard player in Spandau Ballet, which wasn't totally without truth. But then....

Cockney anti-semite comes up with: "Can you smell the gas?! Can you smell the gas?!"

Jesus H Christmas, is this bloke for real?

Incredibly, with the sound of 44,500 spurs fans echoing around us, he then adds "tsssss! tsssss!"

I was sat two feet in front of him. I could barely make it out,never mind the opposition, but when I clicked on I just started giggling to myself at the pointlessness of it all. Not as much as Mikey did the next day when we related the tale to him.

A sad story. That such a brainless idiot can't let events from 60 years ago live in the past, rather than use them as provocation in a sporting arena. A sad day for Boro all round.

Ashamed to belong to the same club as this ignorant fucker.

Thursday, December 7

The Funniest Thing I Have Seen All Year

Wednesday, December 6

"Even the best drummers get hungry!"

Yes this is Keith Moon playing a drum set, filled with water and with goldfish swimming in them...



Legend. Have a read here.

Especially the bit about the hotel manager complaining about the noise.

Apparently Mike Myers of Austin Powers fame is set to play him in an upcoming biopic. Linky.

Sunday, December 3

"Ah well, Best laid plans", thought Luthor.



















































Stolen from B3ta. Again.

KG Has a Paper Cock















Some photos from Redcar last week. Click the Pic.

Best Joke Ever

Told to us as a genuine story in a pub in London.

Many years ago, this Geordie fella wants a bit of work before chrimbo, and he's heard the streets of London are paved with gold. He hears through the grapevine that sometimes the owners of the big London building contracts hang around on the Tyne bridge looking for contractors.

So, he goes to the Tyne bridge early one morning, and sure enough, he bags a building contract in the big smoke. Only problem is, how's he going to get there? He notices another bloke, and asks him how he's getting there.

"Well, I've got a car, but it's not very reliable so I stop so far down, and do the trip in 2 days. Stops the car conking out too much. You can tag along if you like."

So he tags along. During the journey, he asks about where they'll be spending the night.

"Lovely little guest house, just outside London. Nice landlady. Only thing is, she's deaf."

"Deaf?"

"Yeah, but it's no bother, it's lovely, trust me."

After a slow journey punctuated with break downs, they finally arrive, exhausted, at the guest house. After a hot bath, the pair sit down to have a spot of supper. The landlady brings out their food.

"HERE YOU ARE LADS," she shouts, "SOME SUPPER FOR YOU. BEFORE YOU TUCK IN THOUGH, CAN YOU TELL ME WHERE YOU'RE FROM?"

"Saltburn,"says the driver of the car, but there is no response.

"It's OK," the driver says to his friend, "watch this."

He takes some salt from the cellar on the table, quickly lights a match and burns the salt away.

"AH, YOU'RE FROM SALTBURN! WHAT ABOUT YOU THEN?"

"Fuck's sake," says the contractor, "that's no good to me!"

"Why not?"

"I'm from Cockermouth!"

Christmas in Middlesbrough

Or, Xmas for Arseholes, Part 1.

Myself and the missus went to Middlesbrough this morning. We had no real need to go. It was a fucking mistake.

Parking was easy. For a change, the car park behind the banks ahd been forsaken by the masses, and a space was easily nabbed. This is where the problems began.

You see, once out of your car, you have to walk. This is an easy procedure, I have been performing this task since the age of about 2, one foot in front of the other. It is an easy form of propulsion. I'm sure you'll agree.

But no. You have discounted the imbeciles in Middlesbrough. While they aren't lapping up warm beer served in shite, soul-less pubs by neanderthals, they are out getting in people's way. My way.

It goes thus:

Me: "Look, here comes another identikit goth, walking down the middle of an otherwise deserted street. He has seen me, I know he has, he will move across to let me past, and I will move subtley in the opposite direction, and our journey's shall continue"

Goth: "Look, here comes some bloke let's fuck him up by dancing with him"

Me: " I know he knows I'm here. Why isn't he moving to one side?"

Goth: "I have no morals! Listening to dull US rock has made me like this!"

Me: "Oh, no! I'm going to have to do a little poncey side step round him now!"

Goth: "Ha, look at his poncey side step. He must be gay."

Me: "Says you ya floppy fringed Goth cunt, come here ya little student puff, I'm gonna smack ya!"

Alright, perhaps not the last bit. But why can't they just move one step, quite literally, laterally? It gets worse. Gangs of teenage chav lasses walk in the sort of tight formation that Roman Centurions would have been proud of. Pregnant women with pushchairs think they should have a twenty foot bubble of protection on all sides. Fat blokes in 10 year old Errea coach coats, shouting about "last fahkin' noight" with a mockney accent, into a brick shaped mobile, walk as if they are on the Utah salt flats - unlikely to meet anyone so no point in getting out of the way.

In an ideal world, people would have the manners and common courtesy to move aside, or at least move in the opposite direction to you. This is the worst of all, when someone goes the same way. Then the same way again, and again, and again. Line dancing in the Cleveland Centre is not a good look, let me tell you. I hadn't even brought my ten gallon hat.

I'm going to the Metro Centre this week. 10,000 Geordies stand between me and Boots. They will all, with the sort of timing that would shame the finest swiss clock manufacturers, move the same way as me.

I hate shopping. The stores wonder why Internet buying is on the rise. It's infinitely easier, and unless you're using a 17 year old lads PC, far fewer twats to deal with.

Heroes of the Wallet # 2 - Oliver Reed

Reed caused David Letterman to lose his footing by pulling him forward during their greeting handshake; punctuated the interview by adopting an American accent, pointing at the camera and claiming “I’m after you, Stallone”; replied to Letterman’s questions in German; spoke nonsense claiming he was a fisherman who wore boots in his ears; took the piss out of Letterman’s nose by pressing his own down in imitation; and removed his glasses and stared Letterman down, forcing Letterman to plead to band leader, Paul Schaffer to accompany him.

In fact, on both sides of the Atlantic, Reed became well known for his “performances” on chat shows. On The Merv Griffin Show in the 70s, Reed sat listening attentively whilst Griffin reeled off some anecdote about Peter O’Toole in order to illustrate the temperamental nature of English actors. After enduring the entire story, Reed sat forward and, quite politely, pointed out that O’Toole was in fact Irish, and not English. More famously still, he once asked perma-tanned British talk show host Richard Madley why he had “orange skin”.


For more of this sort of thing (7 pages no less), click here.

November in Review

Good day readers of the Wallet, here is my monthly look back on things good and not so good that happened in November.

Thanks go to Chris and Alex were very kind and put on quite the display at their house. There was even a rare sighting of a hippo in the back garden at one point but it turns out it was just KG bending over to light the next firework.

A week later (11th), me and KG cruised on into Middlesbrough for a night on the lash. It weren't a bad little night, very little of note to mention though - nights out have gotten stale as of late, so we are having a little break now until Xmas. One thing I will mention though is the fact that we decided to walk home (we got as far as the Vauxhall garage on the A66 before KG needed a sandwich and a taxi driver was kind enough to take us home).

Phil invited me, KG and Pete to a boxing night at Marton Country Club on the 23rd for a night out as well as to celebrate Barry's (Phil's Dad) birthday.

It was a cracking night, a three course roast beef dinner followed by 12 three round fights where kids ranging from I would say 8 to 18 smashed the hell out of each other. It was in fact preceeded by a fight in the reception area between two blokes which sprawled on to the car park when we first went in - nice warm welcome there! There was two amatuer clubs represented, Belfast, Holy Trinity and South Bank. Hard as nails the lot of 'em.

KG: I wonder if Mike Hunt won the raffle?

Phil: Wonder what they spent the butter on?

Then a whole load of us went out in Redcar last Saturday. Not a bad little night out but again, lacking a bit of spark or something new to get us excited. Elgins has been done out. I say done out, it has had some new uphostlery fitted to the chairs. Not quite the make over the Star and Garter had is it?

Bagged a copy of Jackass 2 on DVD which I will highly recommend to anyone who is a fan. Some quality stuff on it like the mouse in the snake tank, and the bull against this 4 way seesaw thing(which is insane!). Worse than this....



Little Britain Live, Paddy McGuinness Live and Chubbs Live have all been watched - all are quality, especially Chubbs who is back right on form. I also read his autobiography which is pretty good.

Chubby Brown, going by his book, could be the hardest man who ever lived.




Is that it for November? Think so, bit of a quiet one but still had plenty of fun...roll on XMAS!!!!

Ebay

I've been caning ebay recently with a back catalogue of dodgy shirts bought over the years which were never worn and if they were - got laughed at.

One problem though, ebay decides at times to be very weird. So having spent the best part of two hours descirbing shirts in minute detail I was pretty shocked to find that I ended up with the same shirt for sale 7 times. It was as though it couldn't keep up with each new shirt I entered and I had suddenly become a major player in the fashion industry.

There probably is some answer to why it does this that some IT wizard (Pete?) can explain but I imagine that some old duffer selling off her kids clothes that they have grown out of would be quite shocked to find a bulk order from Mothercare sat in her inbox.

Sort it out ebay!!

Dream Team Update

Scores currently stand as follows:

Me: 600

Everyone Else: Who cares.

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