ElizabethofYork
Old Crone
Stanley Edwards - Please continue to post here. Some of us are genuinely interested!
Living off the land 100%
- Thread starter Stanley Edwards
- Start date
Pickman's model
Starry Wisdom
i'm sure most of us are genuinely interested, in particular i am looking forward to finding out how he will navigate the portuguese countryside with neither map nor compass to guide him.
Artaxerxes
Look out, he's got a gnu!
I find the entire thing a fascinating study into psychology so please do carry on.
Road signs one presumes.
Road signs one presumes.
See what I mean, spanglechick? Utter lack of self-awareness. He reinvents his motivations as he goes, even when there is concrete evidence by way of his posts. For example, in the post about how he reacted in the supermarket he states that he purposely whipped his backpack around to knock the young woman over. Now he is saying he did not abuse anyone physically. Even though his own words are right there in black and white.
Pickman's model
Starry Wisdom
Not to mention the tenor of his post from which it was clear he was proud of what he'd done
Pickman's model
Starry Wisdom
I wouldn't try to navigate the British countryside by road sign, and from what he's said he'll not always be on a road
And then he both objects when people call him a liar, and objects when people point to his own claims of deeply disturbing sexual behaviour, objectification of women, stalking, and assaulting someone with Down's syndrome, etc, etc, as if they might be truthful.
Idk. I get the impression that everyone is sort of meant to just forget about all that, just so long as he's doing something a bit lol or jolly.
Artaxerxes
Look out, he's got a gnu!
I didn't say it was a good plan.
EastEnder
Brixton Barnacle
He could sketch a map as he goes.
The irony of his repeated attempts at flouncing is that I genuinely would be happy to never again hear from this particular nasty piece of work.
phillm
Trolling through Life (TM)
Well I'm saddened I don't have any reason to judge Stan except at face value and I for one enjoyed the posts and what I had assumed was good natured banter along the way , given and taken in that light. I had also assumed maybe wrongly the mocking was gentle and in good spirit - but maybe not. And to the real haters who would like him off the forum and out of their lives why bother reading a thread from somebody who for whatever reason you don't like. It's says more about you than it does Stan and you can now take pride that you've achieved you goal. At least I can find something more useful to do now.....Thanks Stan.
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Pickman's model
Starry Wisdom
read his backstory and you'll soon find a reason to judge stan and indeed find him wanting
I'm not arguing for Stan to fuck off, as then he'd just be a creepy objectifying misogynist stalker who was being challenged on his stated history of creepy objectifying misogynistic stalking behaviour less often.
If I had a mate who was top bants (or whatever awful young people say) and told a cracking joke, but was also a stalker who occasionally assaulted people with learning disabilities, I'd feel that was a pretty fucking big elephant in the room, and more than a slight hindrance to maintaining normal polite conversation about lolventures, thieving, etc.
If I had a mate who was top bants (or whatever awful young people say) and told a cracking joke, but was also a stalker who occasionally assaulted people with learning disabilities, I'd feel that was a pretty fucking big elephant in the room, and more than a slight hindrance to maintaining normal polite conversation about lolventures, thieving, etc.
not-bono-ever
meh
Stanley has flounced nearly as many times as he has been banned over the years for disgraceful offensive shit.
butchersapron
Bring back hanging
A friend of mine - and others on here - used to post on here. He is a tube driver. He wrote an article that got picked up by the Guardian about what having a one-under - that is driving over a suicide - had done to him. Edwards mocked and abused him for being weak. He don't post here anymore. Edwards does.
Pickman's model
Starry Wisdom
saw him recently, he's keeping well
butchersapron
Bring back hanging
I hope so - he deserves it.
Idris2002
canadian girlfriend
Idris2002
canadian girlfriend
The moving finger writes and having writ,
moves on, not all your piety or wit,
Shall cancel out a single line,
Nor all your tears wash out a part of it.
Pickman's model
Starry Wisdom
Posterity will ne’er survey
A nobler grave than this:
Here lie the bones of Castlereagh:
Stop, traveler—and piss
Pickman's model
Starry Wisdom
I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them on the sand,
Half sunk, a shatter'd visage lies, whose frown
And wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamp'd on these lifeless things,
The hand that mock'd them and the heart that fed.
And on the pedestal these words appear:
"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"
Nothing beside remains: round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,
The lone and level sands stretch far away.
Idris2002
canadian girlfriend
I met a traveller from an antique land,
Who said—“Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. . . . Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed;
And on the pedestal, these words appear:
My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings;
Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.”
Pickman's model
Starry Wisdom
Idris2002
canadian girlfriend
THE CURSE OF CROMWELL
YOU ask what -- I have found, and far and wide I go:
Nothing but Cromwell's house and Cromwell's murderous crew,
The lovers and the dancers are beaten into the clay,
And the tall men and the swordsmen and the horsemen, where are they?
And there is an old beggar wandering in his pride -- -
His fathers served their fathers before Christ was crucified.
O what of that, O what of that,
What is there left to say?
All neighbourly content and easy talk are gone,
But there's no good complaining, for money's rant is on.
He that's mounting up must on his neighbour mount,
And we and all the Muses are things of no account.
They have schooling of their own, but I pass their schooling by,
What can they know that we know that know the time to die?
O what of that, O what of that,
What is there left to say?
But there's another knowledge that my heart destroys,
As the fox in the old fable destroyed the Spartan boy's
Because it proves that things both can and cannot be;
That the swordsmen and the ladies can still keep company,
Can pay the poet for a verse and hear the fiddle sound,
That I am still their servant though all are underground.
O what of that, O what of that,
What is there left to say?
I came on a great house in the middle of the night,
Its open lighted doorway and its windows all alight,
And all my friends were there and made me welcome too;
But I woke in an old ruin that the winds. howled through;
And when I pay attention I must out and walk
Among the dogs and horses that understand my talk.
O what of that, O what of that,
What is there left to say?
ElizabethofYork
Old Crone
Stan, Stan
You dirty old man
Cooking in the woods
on your pots and pans
You dirty old man
Cooking in the woods
on your pots and pans
Pickman's model
Starry Wisdom
The Harlot's House
-Oscar Wilde-
We caught the tread of dancing feet,
We loitered down the moonlit street,
And stopped beneath the harlot's house.
Inside, above the din and fray,
We heard the loud musicians play
The 'Treues Liebes Herz' of Strauss.
Like strange mechanical grotesques,
Making fantastic arabesques,
The shadows raced across the blind.
We watched the ghostly dancers spin
To sound of horn and violin,
Like black leaves wheeling in the wind.
Like wire-pulled automatons,
Slim silhouetted skeletons
Went sidling through the slow quadrille,
Then took each other by the hand,
And danced a stately saraband;
Their laughter echoed thin and shrill.
Sometimes a clockwork puppet pressed
A phantom lover to her breast,
Sometimes they seemed to try to sing.
Sometimes a horrible marionette
Came out, and smoked its cigarette
Upon the steps like a live thing.
Then, turning to my love, I said,
'The dead are dancing with the dead,
The dust is whirling with the dust.'
But she--she heard the violin,
And left my side, and entered in:
Love passed into the house of lust.
Then suddenly the tune went false,
The dancers wearied of the waltz,
The shadows ceased to wheel and whirl.
And down the long and silent street,
The dawn, with silver-sandalled feet,
Crept like a frightened girl.
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