Pashley26

You'd need to have seen a vagina to be part of this conversation, feinting at the thought of one doesn't count. So he can't possibly mean you

I have the same, my legs are SO hairy, if I don't hack it down weekly my cock and bum'ole almost disappear and it's like trying to piss and shit through a pair of tights, my beard will grow half an inch a week, but my chest refuses to grow. Dafuq.

Give it a week until the grow again and they're scratching your cheeks, you'll be regretting it. If you dye them the the hair becomes softer and you don't get the itching when they grow back, don't ask me how I know, but I know.

Mr Megane is incredibly excited that he probably went to LeMans once isn't he?

Today I took my GoPro type thing out for a drive and some lunch. On the way out the door I stroked the neighbours cat. Fuelled up. Brawpapapapa. Went up to the old airfield at Lasham to play about with all the leaves and some launches on the entry/exit road. I tried to setup the GoPro on a stand so I could get a video of me sliding around but it kept getting blown over because it's so windy. I totally forgot I had a totally disused airfield down the road, I was on the phone to my dad saying I was having a good drive and he said 'on a private road office' and I said 'no on my personal airstrip' then Dad said 'why don't you go up to Lasham, I bet all the leaves are on the ground now.' Went up there and it was all totally open and in I rolled, messed about for twenty minutes and f**ked off down the pub for lunch. I might try and get up there one day with Prawn. Stopped off at the pub for lunch. Loving it looking totally ruined. Brawpwpapapapapa home I went with the sun in my eyes and Grand Funk Railway on the radio. Back on the drive and tucked up for another week. I'm oddly proud of how dirty and filthy it is, I don't want to clean it until next year haha. Then mother and I went out in the Panda Cross. Fairly reasonable Sunday.

I do love a good bit of hair, I can't stand these barbie look-a-likes with their stupid vagina's that look like they've been made using only the blur tool on Photoshop.

Clay sounds an awful lot like gay to me.

She's the least high maintenance person in the world ever. She'll quite happily go days on end without talking to me, she'd probably quite happily continue the rest of her life never talking to anybody again if I didn't convince her that wasn't healthy. That's why I was so worried when she said she wants to talk to me, and why I find it so odd that she's ringing me up like some kind of f**king weirdo. Oh well, she'll be back in a little over a month.

Women logic. She's dropped some right legendary shit lately... Friday I'm at Brands Hatch, not spoken to her for a few days. I get a text at half 9 in the morning just as the day is kicking off. ''I really want to talk to you about something, but not when you're around all your friends.'' So I walk off so I'm not with all my mates, reply saying I'm on my own. ''No I will talk to you about it later.'' ''Why can't you talk to me about it now?'' ''Because I don't want to, I'm just contemplating something and I want your opinion on it.'' ''Well why can't you ask me now?'' ''No I'll talk to you later.'' So I spend all f**king morning worrying about what the f**k she wants to talk to me about. Nigh on ruining my day. About 2PM we're having lunch, and she popped up as online on Messenger so I just sent her a message saying ''I don't know if it's a subconscious thing that women do, but how come there is a drama every time I have something planned, or a day for me lined up? Just tell me what ever you want to tell me so I can enjoy the rest of my day, because you've annihilated my morning.'' I get a reply twenty minutes later... ''Well I was thinking of getting a bikini wax because all the other girls are getting it done, what do you think?'' FOR f**k SAKE. Fast forward to today. I get a phone call from her, in floods of tears, almost entirely unable to produce a sentence. So I'm freaking out like ''dafuq is happening?! Why all the tears?! What's happened?!'' ''We watched Love Actually and I really miss you *insert grizzling*'' ''Well why would you watch that film?!'' ''I don't know...**insert more grizzling**'' - They're idiots.

I've got a car to play with, but I shit myself loads.

I love my one of them, it was great.

No, it's not a wind up f**k off! :bow:

I genuinely really love it.

Somebody shouted 'f**king paedo' at me the other day. Thinking about it, it was a child. Both hands were on the steering wheel, before you say anything.

Get a curlywurly, and pin it to the roof then unwrap half of it. Pull up and take a bite of the curlywurly, hold whilst you chew and swallow, continue until you've eaten all the curlywurly, do this twice a day for 6 weeks and you'll be hench.

CTRL V. Will it sell, or will it not....Find out in next week episode of 'Journey to Quattro...My Story.' In all seriousness though, if it doesn't make £4000 on eBay I'll keep it a while longer. I've done at least 400 miles in it this week. This morning it was cold. Yesterday I drove it to pick Prawn up then we went to Brands Hatch. The day before that I picked my mate Luke up and we picked up his new LCR. I raced an M3. And won. As if. I drove some lanes. The Panda Cross is still a better car. Here's a picture of my cat. Stay tuned for more updates.

If you spent less money spunking out on haircare products for your car, dropbox storage for 736 of the same picture and £4 jet wash tickets you wouldn't need a diesel. Why didn't anybody say that to me when I sold my last A3? HASHTAGYOLO.

You need a Panda Cross.

Went to Brands Hatch today, it was pretty shit. All the MX5's were slow, the RX8's dropped oil everywhere and some twat in a 'race car' RX8 throw all his oil, ignored the marshals and continued to drive a full lap contaminating the whole track with oil and basically calling off three hours of driving. I'm so f**king glad I sold my driving place to somebody else, I'd have been f**ked off if I'd paid for today.

I'd f**k Potter for free, who needs high speed internet?

So the f**king delivery fanny strikes again. Told my mum that today when he came she was to decline the delivery because Hermes hadn't delivered on time and that I wouldn't take delivery until I was refunded because frankly, they missed the deadline and the contents are of no use to me now because I paid a premium for them to get them faster, and I could buy the items for a third of the price elsewhere if I was prepared to wait a week. Which I now am. Delivery man knocks on the door, mum rings me to say she's told him we won't accept delivery because the parcel is late and that we were in the process of claiming a refund from Hermes. Apparently delivery driver got all shitty with my mum...Not a good idea, she's f**king mental. Delivery driver told my mum he did try to deliver it last night at 5:45 and nobody was in, she asked him if he was sure and he said 'I wouldn't have ticked the undeliverable box on my tablet otherwise.' So she told him exactly how it was, f**k off and slammed the door in his face. He then opened the letter box with his hands and said 'I'll just leave it on the doorstep then.' Mum shouted 'do what you want, but I'm not signing for it and it's a recorded delivery that requires signature. If you can lie about delivering it then I'll lie about receiving delivery of it, see how it looks when you're in a disciplinary for that one.' Twenty minutes later a missed delivery card posted through the door 'Signed for at number 18 and waiting for you, have a nice day.' Well played you resourceful thunder f**ker.

See, f**king pricks the lot of them. It's a conspiracy I tell you, a f**king conspiracy. Maybe the parcels aren't actually real? I mean, schrodingers cat and all that shit. I haven't seen the parcels? How do I know they even exist? Their particles just might not have aligned.

I'll find the courier and kill his kids. If they are unable of doing a simple job like delivering a parcel they have no place on earth. Just like the stupid f**king courier, if you'd bothered to read what was written you'd already know what they're delivering. And it's not f**king tampons. I mean really, how f**king shit as a person do you have to be to actually lie about attempting to do your job? I hope it isn't his job for much longer, I hope he gets f**king fired for it, and his wife and kids have to suffer in the winter with no f**king heating because he can't pay the bills, then I hope he does the world a favour and f**king hangs himself. How do I know it's a man not a woman? Because women are able to follow instructions. Hopefully his wife will follow the instructions that are written on my cock when I post it through her letterbox, the instructions that say 'kill your useless f**king husband.'

It's called a 1.2 'fire', they only made one engine. Or do you mean the actual code of the engine for identifying it individually from all the other engines that are exactly the same?

Cunting f**king courier dick bags, they can go f**k themselves in a bath of their families rotting f**king corpses. It's not a hard f**king job, you read a label, you drive to the address on the label and you give the parcel to whatever fanny answers the f**king door. I ordered 24 polaroid cartridges, a tripod and a large SD card from a seller on eBay who was 60 miles away. I really needed them quickly, after my local camera shop had not ordered the bits I wanted and had arranged to collect on Thursday morning and called me on Wednesday morning to say they hadn't arrived with their orders, I was resorted to paying a fortune for an over night courier through Hermes (the seller had a contract with them) and buying the items on eBay. The seller on eBay was great, processing the order straight away. See the below quotation of my email complaint.