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Will Gary Lineker be presenting Motd on Saturday?

All this Gary talk reminds that G Numan is in fact 13 days older than G Oldman.

There seem to be a lot of Garys of roughly that age, including Kemp and Lineker himself, but now the name has fallen out of favour. I wonder which year was peak Gary.

Some time ago ( 2015 ? ) there were only 15 boys named ‘Gary’ in the UK.
 
That cartoon is certainly very… busy
It's David Squires for the Guardian, and yes, it looks crap when posted as a single image like that.

Much easier to read on the Guardian website, and he's generally very good at commenting on football related news and scandal.

 
I remember getting tons of mileage ripping the name ‘ Gawwy ‘ 20 years ago in the pub. Not a person present, just the name in general.
 
I dunno how the process works for legally registering a human baby,
I believe you can do it online now but I did it by going to the registry office and saying
"My wife has just had a baby I would like to register the birth please"
"Congratulations Mr Q we will just ask you a few simple questions"
10 mins later I handed over a small fee (I think it was £5 for the first three and might have been a tenner for Youngest) and left clutching a birth certificate.
At no point was I required to produce an actual baby as physical proof.
I went straight away because up until no more than a few weeks ago I always thought I had only 2 weeks to do it but apparently I was wrong and I actually had 6 weeks though that discovery has come almost 21 years too late to be useful. And also recently (all this new knowledge came from an Urban thread) I discovered the hospital registers the birth as well so I presume someone must crosscheck the lists at some point.
 
Funnily enough we used to call my mate Gail. Not because he was called Garry but because he looked like Gail Tilsley. 😂

Isn’t Gail one of those names that was originally masculine anyway?

<not that it’s even remotely relevant> :oops:
 
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As an aside, I think all the Garys in the world should be told they spell their name wrong and henceforth made to spell it with a double-R.

Garry.
I used to work with a Garry. When he started, another coworker told us all "you should never trust a Garry with two Rs".
Can't remember if I've ever mentioned it on here, but at one point in my life I worked on quite a small team, less than ten people, that had two ex-coppers on it, in a line of work that had no obvious connection to the police. The first ex-copper, the Freemason one who was my line manager, was genuinely a pretty pleasant person to work with, even if I didn't see eye to eye with him on everything. Garry-with-two-Rs less so.
He was notoriously racist and sexist, and also known for doing tremendously smelly farts. In that team there was a thing where every piece of work had to be checked by a second person before being sent off, which in most cases just meant doing basic proofreading, but it was broadly accepted that "checking" Garry's work might well mean having to rewrite the whole thing almost from scratch to get it up to an acceptable standard.
Perhaps the most notable aspect of our time working together was that, just as the anti-racist, quite good at his job Gary-with-one-R shat himself at work during the 1990 world cup, the racist, rubbish at his job Garry-with-two-Rs was rumoured to have shat himself at work one day. Whether that actually happened or if it was just a particularly noxious fart is something that Garry or God could say for sure, but certainly the above-mentioned coworker strongly believed it to be true, and would often mention it to us as proof of why you should never trust a Garry with two Rs, and from that day forth anyone who had to sit in what became known as Garry's shart chair would always feel a bit uneasy about it.
Anyway, if that's a representative sample of Garrys, it hardly seems like the sort of thing we should be encouraging.
 
"Don't you miss it, Gal?" I say, "What, England? Nah. Fucking place. It's a dump. Don't make me laugh. Grey, grimy, sooty. What a shit hole. What a toilet. Every cunt with a long face shuffling about, moaning, all worried. No thanks, not for me." They say, "What's it like, then, Spain?" And I'll say, "It's hot. Hot. Oh, it's fucking hot. Too hot? Not for me, I love it."
 
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