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The bass drum had a 22 inch shell, and two feeble little legs, which I had, over the years, cause to bemoan. He hurls a virgin oath, to the great amusement of the older men. Was he lucky in love? Somewhere out the back of the factory, an ggirls lorry has deposited me, and many others like me, at the Goods In dock.
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Drumming has become a necessity born of a reluctance to let anyone else do it for me, a mistrust that condemns me, like Chief Ironside, to deliver my lines sitting down. I watch the tinsnips, mesmerised by cbat rapid action, but it is not so easy as it seems. Where did he go?
This child wears spats over his pink workboots, and a white plastic hard-hat. The boy, thoroughly abashed now, lets the heavy block, still bound in its slats, roll off the pallet wity land corner first on his little foot.
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I looked, they said, just like a Nazi. Links "Nazi arschloch! This new-found warmth failed to reconcile me to my misfortune. It has been a hectic and busy day. These men are all zwesel to our odyssey of cheese. Ernie finds this toothlessly amusing, but no one can be certain if zwiesfl garrulous Charlie Frampton finds it funny. We went into an eight-track recording studio in Yeovil, and spent the day recording a hesitant version of our most tuneful song, Departure.
You looked over a few times and cuaght my attention. Zwiesel was in Fiesta mode.
Most remarkable was the production of Volpone that Colin took me to at the National Theatre, which knocked the spots off McDonalds, and laid the foundations for an abiding love of Benjamin Jonson and his work which was one day to lead me into unashamed acts of plagiarism and idolatry. Cjat really couldn't see the insanity of the situation.
Nazi arschloch! Hereafter, my journey is a wild switchback ride along the conveyor belts, until Girlz drop, wrapped, weighed, priced, and quality-controlled onto a revolving table. Faggots of wood and inquisitions sprang to mind.
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My love affair with London had continued throughout those dark months of employment, and regular visits to Colin had done nothing to curb my disaffection for Somerset. As I am now wrapped only in transparent plastic, I am able to watch with interest the activity that now surrounds me. What was he really like?
The miscreants fell to their knees and begged my pardon. My fellow workers, shivering in line at the bus stop, were all of my parent's generation, and beyond the pettiness of my contemporaries, being on the whole good-natured and content with their lot. My willingness to strive stemmed only from a reluctance to oblige others to do my share of the work, which I considered shameful, but it was decided by someone, somewhere, that I might be the stuff of which Gauleiters are made.
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Was he brave? Perhaps I might just have got my head kicked in - but would this chap be picking on me if I wasn't a dwarf and outed five to one? Ernie doesn't drive the fastest milk cart in the west.
Being engagingly innocent, not to mention dumb, I asked my chargehand for the time off. Cecil motorbikes in daily from Shepton Mallet, and will probably die one day at the controls of his forklift.
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We were in Zwiesel, halfway up a mountain near the borders of Bavaria and Czechoslovakia, a one-goat town of wooden gables and lumber stacks, whose inhabitants pined for either the good old days of the Housepainter, or yearned to be anywhere but Zwiesel. Well, I thought, if that's the way it is, next time I'll just kill off a relative or catch some dreadful disease.
I recall with, fondness, my second experience of British industrial relations, and wigh happy phase in the discontented winter when all the lorry drivers went on strike and no cheese found its way into the factory for a whole week. The cymbal stands were flimsy enough to bend with your teeth, and the hi-hat scarcely lasted beyond two rehearsals. Charlie, the last of our fellowship, doesn't talk too much.
The highspot of for this wag is the Jeremy Thorpe scandal, on the crest of which he rides with a daily crop of vulgar jokes pertaining to that man's downfall.