used to have the same opinion of scousers till i met a few but have never changed my opinion on brummies. Used to hate having to ref games anywhere in that city but felt sorry for all the black country lads who i thought were brummies at the time. a different breed even if there in a simarlarity of accents to the uneducated like us and geordies.

Very true Accy I worked in Walsall & Bilston for 2 years back in the 80s and the people totally spot on. I used to go with lads from work to see the Villa and found these lot sound aswell but definitely the real brummies ( Birmingham )are not a nice lot at all.

An old gent once told me that in his youth he went to Sunderland to buy a motorbike for cash. He tested it out and then set out to ride it back to Northallerton, only for it to break down about halfway back. On further investigations it was found that it had a wooden piston!!

This happened back in the 40s.

Coming home from Germany and the wife wanted to look round the hypermarkets in Calais, so after wasting an nour of my life I’ll never get back, she emerges triumphant with nothing but the biggest box of Persil soap powder known to man…I’m complaining like hell trying to fit it in and for some dumb reason she’s complaining the instruction are in French……ffs it’s soap powder ….anyway I get well pissed off and made a throw away joke about buying a huge amount of white powder while heading for customs…..row over…
A week later she finally gets to open this huge box of Persil and comes in to get me to look inside….a bit concerned…..so I look at it and it’s Persil..smells like Persil, looks like Persil…what’s the problem .
No no,no she said, there’s something inside there…I carefully agitate the powder with my screwdriver and lo and behold, there’s a parcel the size of a pair of slippers in there…..we look ai it….and she said “it’s a good job customs didn’t check it out, remember when you joked about white powder”…
Removed it, carefully opened it, it was a fecking big plastic scoop as it turned out, thank Christ for that ….phew!

used to have the same opinion of scousers till i met a few but have never changed my opinion on brummies. Used to hate having to ref games anywhere in that city but felt sorry for all the black country lads who i thought were brummies at the time. a different breed even if there in a simarlarity of accents to the uneducated like us and geordies.[/quote]
just wonder if exiles have the same mentality as me. have bought cars from all round the country as the stuff i drivve can be classed as odd ball vehicles that you do not find anywhere. actually purchaed a few from county durham including one from hartlepool. funny how i never checked these over as much as i did when i got them from other areas of the country and fortunetly i was never done by dealers or private sellers.

My neighbour lives on his own. He wanted to do the first foot thing but he locked himself out of his own house. He came over to mine pretending he wanted to celebrate New Year and stayed until around 5am. I was well ready for bed by now but he wanted to stay up longer which is no where near his normal self. He then had to admit he foooked up and and locked himself out. He ended up staying on my couch until his son turned up to let him in at 10am.

Got told a blinder last night. Apparently back in 1998 two mates who worked for a well known Hartlepool insurance company fell out big. It turns out one was the best man at the others wedding but the groom was unaware his wife and best man had something going on. Anyway later in that evening at the Staincliffe the best man got drunk in the main bar whilst his mate and the bride went upto the wedding suite. He then decided to go and knock at the door and tell his mate the truth which he did. The place erupted and the police had to be called. After things calmed down the best man got on his knees and asked the " new wife " to leave her " new husband" and marry him which she agreed to do. They left the hotel there and then and went into hiding. On the Monday at work the husband found out his best friend had resigned and he never seen them again until September last year. Turns out the ex best friend and ex wife had moved down to Benfleet in Essex to start a new life together but decided to return to Hartlepool to live after the wifes mother needed care in her last year's of her life. They bought a house in Highfields in July and moved in September. Here is the punch line they only bought a house in the same street as the ex husband / mate almost opposite. Anyway they soon realised there mistake and have now rented the house out and moved to Stockton. My wife's friend lives next door to the ex husband and during New Years drinks he told them why the new neighbours had misterisly disappeared and then it all made sense. Had that of been me on either side I would have simply ignored it and let bygones be bygones aferall it's 25 years and both remarried with families.

Great memories! I've had many weird, spooky/ghostly, unusual experiences in my life but this one probably ranks as the most embarrassing. My second job (same as the first but different location) saw me working in an office in the centre of Regent's Park where we were responsible for the maintenance of the Embassies, Courts and various other properties in the surrounding area.
One lunchtime in mid-summer, a work colleague suggested that we had a wander out in the park. I agreed so off we went. We hadn't gone far when we passed a couple of geezers, stripped to the waist, with a set of cricket stumps. He thought it a good idea to join in. I wasn't particularly keen as I had started playing "serious" cricket but, not particularly a bowler, I turned my arm over for several minutes. I was then invited to have a bat so, slightly reluctantly, I said okay. The first ball I received was on a good length so I played it back to the bowler. The second, however, was short and wide so I instinctively moved back and across to play a square cut and as I connected with the ball, I heard the horrendous noise of rippimg material. The pressure of my left knee on my trousers had completely ripped the arse out of them. Not down the seam, oh no, not me but the actual material, resulting in a huge sail of material stretching from below the knee right up to the waistband. Now, if I had been at work for a few years, I would have gone home there and then but, as I had only been working for less than two years, I stayed until 5ish. Of course, by this time, the park was as full as a bear's bum so, adopting my best mincing, "brown hatter's" gait, I set off past all the bodies stretched out on the grass. It took about six or seven minutes to reach the gate by which time, I had collected a few whistles en route. Crossing the road, I caught a Bakerloo line train from Regent's Park where I had to change at Piccadilly Circus (of all places) to the Piccadilly line for the forty minute journey to my local station. Having changed, the women sitting opposite me were catching my eye, glancing down at the expanse of flesh on view and giving me a knowing smile. Normally, when I left my station, I would walk past the shops in the High Street and take a turning home but on this occasion, I took the first available turning and ran as fast as fuck to seek sanctuary. The result of this tale was that one lightweight "whistle" ended up in the bin.

Back in 80s me and her indoors travelled to Cornwall to see some old friends. Anyway we ended up in a large Victorian style hotel for 3 nights. First night the double four poster bed was ice cold on my side only despite it being summer so I had to move over to her side which was fine. Second and third night I also moved across to her side just to get away from the ice cold side of this bed. The last morning in the hotel room at around 9am the wife opened the two lots of curtains ( which let in the sunlight ) and went to the bathroom. I layed in the middle of the bed top half naked on my back wide awake with covers off just deciding what I wanted for breakfast when one of the strangest things happened. A light grey misty arm ( almost certain female ) came over from the cold side and raised up and started to wrap around my stomach just like anyone cuddling up in bed would do. I watched in amazement as it moved slowly but purposefully over my torso fully expecting it to be ice cold on the touch of my skin but it was not cold infact I never felt any touch just looked at it. It then vanished and I jumped up and looked to my left but nothing. It was something I never believed in till then but strangely enough I have had a couple more encounters since in my present house and previous house. Regardless of people's opinions this is a true and honest account of that hotel experience.

My brothers son who is 19yrs old entered last seasons F.A .Cup competition to win 4 tickets for the final and a chunk of cash. All he had to do was send a text to enter the competition and pay costs plus £2 and be avaliable the following Monday to receive a call if he won.He told his boss he had a real good feeling he would win the competition. On the Monday morning the boss withheld his phone number then rang our Carl disgusting his voice and told him he had won and the BBC wanted to present his tickets and money personally and take photos etc on the Friday at his house 10am. Our Carl finished the call and started jumping about and celebrating. He then went to the boss and asked if he could come in late on Friday and explained why. The boss said no we already have a Skelton staff Friday so it's not going to happen....Carl paused for a few seconds then said foook you I resign then and walked out and slammed the door. The boss watched him on cctv walking through the factory slagging him off and out the main door. Everyone was in on it but Carl, the boss ran after him and told him it was a wind up but no hard feelings you still have a job son.

So you where a sort of V.I.P

Remember my uncle buying a car from Tones in Oxford Road in the 70s and it had sawdust in the gearbox. He took it back within 2 hours and was asked why HE had put sawdust in the gear box. No refund just fooook off was the reply

Was looking forward to some decent snow yesterday and got a little in the afternoon. Went for a walk to enjoy the snow and slipped on my arse within 2 yards of my gate.

Went to Florida for 1st time in 1986 and got the usual rented car. A day later on way to typhoon lagoon I suddenly heard a posh Englishmans voice say " petrol " we started laughing because never heard a car say petrol before. Around 5 miles later another call of " petrol " this time in a louder voice. I was now looking for a petrol station even though the needle was slightly above the red. Then another 2/3 miles later shouting loud " petrol petrol petrol " I couldn't believe it was now shouting and repeating 3 times in a row. That was the only car I ever rented in Florida that shouted petrol to this day I have never come across anyone who mentions the voice cars but they will have been many models in the states back in 80s doing the petrol shouting. Luckily I found a station round the corner otherwise it might have insulted me or attacked me.