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Post by PW on May 9, 2006 20:35:56 GMT 1
And here was me thinking you were too much of a gentleman to frequent such establishments..."It's like I don't KNOW you any more, man..." ;D
OK...continuing on the obscure theme...
The Empty Child or Girl In the Fireplace?
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Post by Rich on May 9, 2006 20:50:32 GMT 1
I wouldn't know the names of any of the strippers, I don't bother asking them to be honest.
I'll go for the Empty Child just to anser the question though.
Table Tennis or Ping Pong
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Post by Claret & Blue Army on May 9, 2006 22:07:38 GMT 1
Table Tennis
Pool or Snooker
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Post by JP on May 9, 2006 22:12:23 GMT 1
Pool
Bullseye or Krypton Factor?
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Post by Claret & Blue Army on May 9, 2006 22:14:15 GMT 1
Krypton Factor
Prokofiev or Tchaikovsky
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Post by JP on May 9, 2006 22:14:56 GMT 1
Tchaikovsky
Roy Keane (Celtic or Man Utd?)
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Post by Claret & Blue Army on May 9, 2006 22:17:07 GMT 1
Celtic
Tolstoy or Dostoyevsky
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Post by JP on May 9, 2006 22:59:28 GMT 1
Dostoyevsky
Window or Door?
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Post by Claret & Blue Army on May 9, 2006 23:09:38 GMT 1
Door
Two Gentleman of Verona or a Tale of Two Cities
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Post by PW on May 9, 2006 23:22:38 GMT 1
A Tale of Two Cities.
Poor and educated or rich and stupid?
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Post by JP on May 9, 2006 23:29:10 GMT 1
Rich
Milk or Tea?
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Post by PW on May 10, 2006 16:01:26 GMT 1
Milk.
A la Recherche du Temps Perdu or Paradise Lost?
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Post by Claret & Blue Army on May 10, 2006 17:25:44 GMT 1
Paradise Lost Betjeman or Motion Loving the way this thread has taken an intellectual slant in most cases  |
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Post by PW on May 10, 2006 17:40:24 GMT 1
Betjeman. Because of this..
Slough
Come, friendly bombs, and fall on Slough!
It isn't fit for humans now,
There isn't grass to graze a cow.
Swarm over, Death!
Come, bombs, and blow to smithereens
Those air-conditioned, bright canteens,
Tinned fruit, tinned meat, tinned milk, tinned beans,
Tinned minds, tinned breath.
Mess up the mess they call a town
A house for ninety-seven down
And once a week, a half a crown
For twenty years.
And get that man with double chin
Who'll always cheat, and always win,
Who washes his repulsive skin
In women's tears:
And smash his desk of polished oak
And smash his hands, so used to stroke
And stop his boring dirty joke
And make him yell.
But spare the bald young clerks who add
The profits of the stinking cad;
It's not their fault that they are mad,
They've tasted Hell.
It's not their fault they do not know
The birdsong, from the radio,
It's not their fault they often go
To Maidenhead
And talk of sport, and makes of cars
In various bogus-Tudor bars
And daren't look up and see the stars
But belch, instead.
In labour-saving homes, with care
Their wives frizz out peroxide hair
And dry it, in synthetic air
And paint their nails.
Come, friendly bombs, and fall on Slough
To get it ready for the plough.
The cabbages are coming now;
The earth exhales."
Fauré's Pavane, or Jean Michel Jarre's "Oxygéne"?
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Post by Claret & Blue Army on May 10, 2006 18:16:06 GMT 1
Superb work. Pity the planners of the Berkshire town heeded not his advice
Pavane or Oxygene for me both are in a loop as the soundtrach whenever I think of the 1998 world cup. Obviously Pavane is the less tacky one of the two so will pick
Pavane
The Pickwick Papers or Great Expectations
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