Yes, they were wild days, when I used to go and visit my cousin, who worked in the truck factory in Watford in the 80s.
Cousin Mick and his mates used to work hard all week, but they would really let their hair down at the weekend. One of his mates was a Bristolian, and he used to bring crates of his local strong cider back when he visited his parents.
Of a Friday afternoon, they'd down a few bottles of the cider, then for a bit of a laugh go back to work and see how many of them it took to pull one of the lorry cabs around the yard.
You could say they were swallowing Natch, and straining at Scammells.
Surely they'd have done better with West Country Mead? Or a nice strong cup of tea?
ReplyDeleteI refer, of course, to the Leyland of Milk and Honey.
You're daf't you are...
ReplyDeleteThe Sin of Pride has led you into error: is it not written that the meek shall inherit the ERF?
ReplyDeleteAll pride leads to a fall. And our great aspirations, before we drive off this mortal ring road, are greatly reduced in scope.
Deletesic transit Gloria mundi
us from Brisle has our uses
ReplyDelete