De-re-unlurk

'Jour à tous!

I thought it was time to say hello. I have been lurking here for a while,
and have decided that [in the light of recent events] it is safe to put my
nose round the door of my beloved UKRM - the only newsgroup which makes
worth living. I look forward to correcting you all about everything, all
the time, on subjects about which I know [variously] everything, lots,
little or nothing.

So, Champ has gone to Russia. TOG has gone, perhaps, maybe, maybe not, miss
you already, hurry back. Bear appears from his sig to have stopped
listening to anything. Whinger's been binned. Auvache is as sunny as ever.
Cab and Ace speak excellent French, by the way. I was introduced to the
delights of UKRM by a French [pah!] <copain> in Paris. Is he still here?
;-)))

<The Producers mode>

Desmond. Ach, now zere was a man. Desmond was a better dresser than Bear, a
better painter than Bear, he had more hair, he told funnier jokes, and he
could dance the pants off of Bear. Very few people knew it, but Desmond was
a terrific dancer. He was also a fabulous painter. He could do an entire
apartment in one afternoon! Two coats!

<tpm/>

Anyway, I look forward to hanging around here, putting you straight and -
not least - correcting your lamentable command of English. You see, my
father was French, and my mother was from la Suisse Romande. The scientist
who 'introduced' them to each other in a bottle, he was from Guadeloupe.
The lady who found the baby that was me, in a handbag ['a HAND-bag?'] with a
couple of heads of chicory and a half-smoked packet of Boyars, dressed only
in a stripey top and a Prisunic nappy, behind the ticket kiosk of the Eiffel
Tower, was Senegalese. She was the only child of a Belgian/Luxembourgeois
liaison. Her husband had been born in Vietnam in 1935, and after he died
she married my wonderful stepfather, who is a monoglot Canadian from rural
Quebec. I was educated in New Caledonia and Pasquale Paoli University in
Corsica, where I studied French. I did my doctorate at the Sorbonne in Late
Renaissance Orthography of the Southern Gironde. So, you see, that means
that once I became naturalised here, I could claim to be completely English.

--
Gaston Pierre la Vachequirit - gpvachequirit [chez] yahoo [point] fr
Le seul vrai Anglais d'UKRM en Angleterre
Béhème R-1100RS
MDADSD #1 [1]

[1] Motards du A272

 

Eyup Des, nice break?

 

Is this a frog?

 

Véritable Rosbif

Maid oi larf.

 

Good moaning. Are you just pissing here?

[snip]

Be carfulez-vous. Il est plus de speedtraps alongez that boulevard.
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/uk_news/england/hampshire/4162519.stm

 

Aha, I know who you are. You're the fat, poor one who drives a banged-out
Sierra 1.3, aren't you!

A greeting like yours makes me feel so 'at home' here, which is what it's
all about, really, isn't it! It makes me feel all tingly and loved, it
does. Thank you, Ken. So, it's only fair to reciprocate in kind:

**** off, you pikey ****. I'm fucking English, and I've got the fucking
certificate to prove it.

 

[snip]

much funnier than the real Des.

6/10

 

Yopla, Ace -

Course it fucking isn't. Don't you read, mate? Read the fucking sig line.
C'est une lapalissade, espèce de couillon!

Bisous

 

It would probably be more in character if you pretended *not* to have a
bike.

 

Véritable Rosbif wrote:

But only at the weekends thank ****.

 

I don't think so. Not the faux-frog anyway. It's posted from a UK IP
addy. Unless that twat has gone back to the UK.

Plus since when did Des have a R-1100RS?

 

Being a 'Ampshire boy, I have some great memories of the A272
from my youth. It's a cracking road but I haven't ridden any great
stretch of it for years. I must "do" it again next time I'm down that
way.

 

bad form, ya-da-ya-da, but I reckon it's Toby or Grimley.

Which ever one it is, he's a ****.

 

It's a bit odd - some of it has been shellgripped and it's loverly, and in
other places the top surface of the tarmac is crumbling away and is badly in
need of re-dressing. I suspect they only repair the sections where there's
the biggest risk of a bin.

 

Dan White wrote:
[of the A272]

It's not a Hampshire vs. West Sussex thing?

 

Ah, then what you need is "A272. An Ode to a Road", a book by Pieter
Boogaart. The Bogaarts are a Dutch couple who are besotted with the 272.
The book is a wierd evocation of the whole 90-odd miles of it, with bits and
bobs of history, geography, geology, sights, curios, pubs and so on all the
way from East to West. It's the old 'more English than the English' thing
with which I identify so readily.

 

But perhaps I am pretending not to pretend not to not have an iBike, or
possibly not.

 

I do Billingshurst to Midhurst once a week. I don't think I've ever managed
the whole stretch without at least one major **** up......

 

I remember just after I got my Z1100R in '86 getting an *almighty*
tankslapper on the way into Midhurst on a downhill bendy bit.
My mate on a Z550 went round the outside of me while I was
trying to regain control - the ****!
I nearly shat myself at the time, too. New tyres sorted the handling
out.

 

I remember just passing Petworth park heading towards Midhurst getting a
very big tankslapper too.

I was two up and my front tyre had punctured. It was a bit scary bringing
the plot to a halt from, oh at least 40 mph.

Velocette Vipers were not that quick but you could enjoy those A272 bends
much more back in the 60's with less traffic. I could even outrun a plods
Triumph Saint though when he gave chase...