Hossenfeffer @ Hossenfeffer @feddit.uk

Look, you get born, you keep your head down, and then you die. If you're l

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17

Comments

850

Joined

2 yr. ago

Sarcasm is, like, totally for losers.

Poop knife life?

Fuck off you sanctimonious prick. I’m rewilding.

recorded my singing with an old cassette recorder

Hmm, perhaps this is the key. I sing a lot, in the car, or the shower, or when no-one is around, so I get practice in but I don't (can't) hear what I'm singing properly.

Here's a few:

The Creation - Haydn
Requiem - Mozart
Requiem - Verdi
Messiah - Handel
Stabat Mater - Pergolesi
Gloria - Vivaldi
Mass no. 3 in F minor - Bruckner
St Matthew's Passion - Bach

Owning a proper lawn-momer like the one my dad had. A proper petrol, cylinder mower like this one:

I bought a refurbished on from eBay. Sadly my lawn is too shitty and bumpy to use it, so I just use a Honda IZY which does a perfectly good job but it's not like the one my dad had.

A half-decent singing voice.

To illustrate how bad my singing is: our school did a musical every year. One year it was Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat. The music department set up auditions. First they did a speaking audition, after which I was short-listed for Joseph. Then they did the singing audition. I ended up being 'one of the brothers, the one who doesn't really sing anything'.

I don't even want to be an awesome singer, just be able to carry a tune recognisably.

Mine are all pretty mild.

Everyone reading all the time at home. Pretty much every room had bookcases, full to bursting with books. When I was old enough to have friends around they all said how weird it was to have so many books.

My parents were really emotionally distant. I don't recall either of them telling them they loved me - or each other for that matter. No hugs or kisses. More than one of my girlfriends called me an emotional cripple.

Home-cooked food every night. We never ate out, never had takeaway. My mum was a great cook though so although my friends seemed to think it was weird I'd never had a MacDonalds when I finally did try it I didn't understand the hype.

Oh, and the poop knife, of course.

Your daughters are all the same colour and shape?

7-Zark-7

I can do this all day!
_{Chosen specialist subject.}

Shitting biscuits!
Foamy gushing twat!
Wank spanner!
Rancid gobstopper!
Juicy fat ballsack!
Piss on a stick!
Sloppy jizz mop!
Spunky pus bucket!
Steaming shit stain!
Thirsty cock gobbler!
Greasy prick spasm!
Fuck a duck!
Crusty cum sock!
William H. tap-dancing Macy on a motherfucking motorcycle!
Retching cunt nugget!
Flacid spunk sock!
Mouldy knob cheese!
Pint of shart!
Gaping arse sleeve!
Pus-filled pussy pocket!

"How much British steel was used in the end?"
"Approximately or absolutely?”
“Approximately.”
“Approximately none."
“And absolutely?”
“Also none.”
"But didn't you agree to use British steel where possible."
"Oh, yes indeed. And we did. Where possible. As agreed."
"But why didn't you use more?"
"It wasn't possible, I'd like to be clear on that point."
"Why wasn't it possible?"
"Chinese steel was cheaper."

"What kind of career strategy was 'go with the flow', old man? Oh, but it worked out ok? Good to know."

1980s personal computer. ASDF was standard for a lot of games on it.

Did you own a spectrum?

Invert Y-Axis

The sound of an English country garden on a Sunday in summer.

This is a composite of several sounds all of which must be quiet or distant enough to not be a distraction but which in conjunction are glorious:

• the sound of the breeze through the trees
• childrens’ laughter just far away enough to not be bothersome
• bees buzzing from flower to flower
• a propeller-driven light aircraft from a nearby aerodrome (ideally this would be a vintage plane with a Merlin engine, lazily warbling in the distance)
• the sound of leather on willow, and the occasional call and muted cheer, from a cricket match on the village green
• the gentle burble of a stream
• church bells, far enough away that their individual peels almost blend into each other
• the clink of ice as someone pours a perfect gin and tonic.

Air traffic control needs to get its shit together, there could have been a hell of a mid-air collision.

Same, same.

Ah, now I have coffee.

Silence is golden, as any fool can plainly see.