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I recall reading about that Lizzy Bardsley lass from Milnrow, her husband had left her for another woman but called round because his new bird wouldn’t give BJ’s, and her new man had resorted to only going up the wrong ‘un because the other way was like a wizard’s sleeve. I believe she is considered aristocracy round those parts.

 

It’s better than Shaw though.

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I recall reading about that Lizzy Bardsley lass from Milnrow, her husband had left her for another woman but called round because his new bird wouldn’t give BJ’s, and her new man had resorted to only going up the wrong ‘un because the other way was like a wizard’s sleeve. I believe she is considered aristocracy round those parts.

 

It’s better than Shaw though.

 

Yes, this is true.

 

The Bardsleys moved to Milnrow from Castleton just as soon as they could afford it. Apparently, it is really difficult living on £17k worth of benefits a year in Milnrow, but you could live like a King in Cassie for the same money.

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Yes, this is true.

 

The Bardsleys moved to Milnrow from Castleton just as soon as they could afford it. Apparently, it is really difficult living on £17k worth of benefits a year in Milnrow, but you could live like a King in Cassie for the same money.

I suppose it is a bit of step up Milnrow from Cas. It's dull and lifeless around here...

 

But the Cray on the other hand, one can usually view paralytic tramps, guzzling three litres of White Lightening. Contentedly pissing themselves and creating a quite beautiful stepped waterfall effect, the like of which you might see in say the Brecon Beacons for example. It is that noxious cocktail that makes one hold their breath as they pass through this quaint village at the foot of the Pennines; as it causes the synapses in your brain to click and shudder.

 

There must be some sort of conspiracy go on, allowing all this goodness to be kept in Milnrow.

 

:grin:

 

Banjo.jpg

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I suppose it is a bit of step up Milnrow from Cas. It's dull and lifeless around here...

 

But the Cray on the other hand, one can usually view paralytic tramps, guzzling three litres of White Lightening. Contentedly pissing themselves and creating a quite beautiful stepped waterfall effect, the like of which you might see in say the Brecon Beacons for example. It is that noxious cocktail that makes one hold their breath as they pass through this quaint village at the foot of the Pennines; as it causes the synapses in your brain to click and shudder.

 

There must be some sort of conspiracy go on, allowing all this goodness to be kept in Milnrow.

 

:grin:

 

Banjo.jpg

 

But our Ste has never even lived on The Cray

 

:lol:

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