slammer

Maybe, I just wanted to use the word "Bastard" again ;-)  

Fizroy is actually a "bastard son of the king" puts a whole new slant on things.

If they bite you on your feet or around your ankles as you say then you probably got the cat fleas. Bed bugs are not fussy where they stick their probiscus and will happily suck whereever they are but cat fleas like it below the knees for some reason. Had a lot of cats over the years.. starting to get itchy allover now . :-(

Yes, of course, how else?

Course I have had proper Asian food, tried curried prawns with chips and gravy once.

Pork collar steak boiled with spuds ´n onions, a can of mushy peas and HP sauce. Tofu is food for the latte drinking green party voters. 

I am a bit biased but I would suggest Malta, with maybe a day trip to Sicily.

I like the idea that at least part of our DNA could be alien. Amino acids have been found on asteroids and on meteors, whereas both "left" and "right" hand amino acids have been seen to exist in space most seem to lean to the left, on earth amino acids tend mainly to be left handed handed. Now according to the theory of panspermia at least some of our makeup is "not from round ´ere" and it gets me thinking that if some alien species were to write some kind of binary code in the amino acid, deposit it on an asteroid and send it out of their solar system we would be able to read it thousands if not millions of years later. We have the technology to do this right now, imagine some species on a dying world sending out a message in a bottle never knowing if some intelligence will be there one day to read it... "Hi we were once alive too."

He, she and it will bless thy cosmic dance. Don´t forget to drink a lot of beer and talk like a pirate.  All hail his magnificent noodlyness.

Best one I saw some years ago was on the forearm of a, let´s say: "little read and growly" kind of guy...: "Blute und Are" along with a very metal looking budgie. (could have been an eagle) He saw me looking at it and told me it is German and means: "Blood and honour!" I told him no it doesn´t, it acutally says "Bleed and Are (thinking about the little river in CH) He was not amused especially when I asked if he had kept the reciept for a refund.  

Now why did I not think of that..? I wish I could but I am around Munich where the rent increases exponentially per Km the closer you get to the city, if you can find something at all. I did look at a flat only to find out that I was one of 500-odd people. So I have resigned myself to have fun bitching about a long commute. 

Sounds similar to where I grew up in Schwäbisch-Kongo. Whereabouts is this village? Just so that I know to avoid it but it sounds like you live in one of these places with a monosyllabic Ortsname and where the family trees of the aboriginals are very closely pruned with six fingers being the norm. Do you know if they still eat their dead in your village?

Almost sure that some clever person has figured that bit out, only you would need a clever person who is not only an expert on the topic but also a lawyer and they may be thin on the ground.

My pet hate and focal point of my ire at the moment on my daily commute is that guy who insists on eating a yoghurt with a metal spoon and intensely scraping the last bit of rotten milk out of the perfect resonance chamber of a Zott yoghurt beaker. Scrape, scrape, rattle, scrape, SCRAPE, SCRAPE, rattle. It´s not only the annoying sound but the stench of yoghurt in a train packed to the gills with people. Eating on a commuter train is a big no-no in my opinion, can´t these buggers breakfast at home? Recently at a stop the carriage creaked as a family, let´s call them. "The Hindenburgs" waddled in. Mummy Hindenburg, Daddy Hindenburg and the Goodyear blimp, they were straining at the effort of having to walk a few meters while dragging suitcases, evidently they were going on their jollies. They looked around the carriage in sheer desperation for somewhere to sit and excused themselves past the people standing and sat down without a thankyou, after some kind or frightend souls gave up their seats. Having huffed and puffed and pewed and groaned for a few moments they proceeded to unpack food. A whole Tupperware cupboard full of food, this was on the morning commute mind you, way before I can stomach a morning buttie, I was starving and my coffee hit had worn off to boot. The Hindenburgs had the full spread, chicken wings, boiled eggs, crisps, bread, sausage, you name it they had it. Munch, munch, munch and little coo´s of delight at some tupper delicacy. I would have liked to write that they washed it all down with a diet-coke but no, mummy Hindenburg and the blimp drank something out of a thermos while daddy cracked open a beer. Thankfully I got off at Pasing but I like to imagine that the other commuters killed them and stuck their heads on pikes as a warning before the train got to the main station. Lately I have realized that you can have fun with loose small change, especially when you are commuting. I have found out that you can drive commuters to Weißglut if you buy, say a Brez´n for 2.49 Euros and you pay with two fifty cents, two twenty cents, 6 10 cents and the rest in one and two cent bits. Do it nice an slowly and if you are feeling really evil, like me most mornings in my guise as bastard commuter from hell, then you give them three or five cents too much so that they have to count it again, then, when you can feel the pure, incandescent hate from those behind you as a physical force strong enough to register on satellite I like to go into old git mode and order a second Brez´n. That generally cheers up my day. By now you may have noticed that I do not like commuting, It´s one of the reasons I have become the BCFH, the bastard commuter from hell, normally I am the bestest behaved person on the planet, kind, considerate, helpful, noble and wise. A cultured northern Engish Gentleman. It´s just that I don´t like having to interact with people outside of my work at the best of times, so for two to two and a half hours times two (there and back) the BCFH bursts out of my chest like an alien, it´s a kind of good Slammer, bad Slammer deal. Fact is being in a tin tube rammed full of people jostling for a bit of space wears me out mentally, I can get by if I manage to shut everything out but still it is very stressful. It´s not only the packed train but the tunnel under the tracks in Pasing, just streams of humans trying not to bump into each other and as a gentleman of size I seem to be invisible, people bump into me and then look totally surprised that this 6 ft-odd, 300-odd lb, shoulders in two different timezones ogre suddenly materializes right in front of them. On a dreary morning... A girl, cute, with a well presented rack of grade "A" Charlies moving at a half run down the tunnel, coffee to go held high in one hand, eyes glued to a cellphone furiously pecking at it with her thumb in the other hand. I saw her and stopped walking; she ran straight into me like a bug on the windscreen of a SUV. Sploosh geyserd her coffee to go into the air, clatter disintegrated her phone on the flagstones and she was on her ass calling me all sorts of silly buggers for not watching out. That kind of bridled me and I told her to go and fornicate herself. Of course, being young and pretty it was all my fault and people took it on themselves to protect her from the ogre, some bugger shouted that I should wait for the police and I told them all that they could all go and fornicate themselves and carried on walking. Until one young knight in shining parka ran after me and grabbed me by the arm, I shook him off and because his chest was the size of my wrist, I gave him a push, not hard but just enough to bounce the kid off the wall. I invited the rest to come and try but nobody took me on my offer and I went to the bus stop, it wasn´t long before a cop-car turned up, but my 256 bus was pulling in so as interesting as this could have gotten, I did not see the outcome. Karma hit a half hour later when I spilled my coffee on my desk. I so hate this commute.