Do you have problems? I can solve them all.

[pineapplebryanbrown]

Hello, I'm Thigh. I will work with you to help you achieve the perfect balance in life. I am unfettered by knowledge or training as are my on call team of kindly agony aunts. We're ready to heal you.

not a euphemism

There's an idea this let's seal them up with old chewy!

If you really don't like your postie, Project , you could set up a boobie trap, so that when he lifts your flap (!) , a bucket of water, sick, ( insert your own idea), tips onto his head.
If word gets round, it would also act as a visitor deterrent.

We warned Thigh that the countryside didn't have internet. Why oh why did she leave the safety of her slanket.
Noone really needs a holiday if they have a slanket and enough snax.

Unless her arse is playing her up again and she's stuck on the loo.

Or what about if a scary clown's head pops out and screams when triggered by touching the letterbox?

Not sure about the mechanics of this one but it would be amazing!

I hope she's got her Sports Direct mug with her.

Yes thigh might just be having the world's longest crap. Not necessarily on the toilet though, she does just shit anywhere.

All excellent ideas. I really must devote more time to making Bastard Postman suffer. Actually, maybe the bucket that spills onto Bastard Postman’s head could contain BastardCat.

My old flatmates and I had a deal that we’d only let men in if their penises would fit through our letterbox. Even better if they hung a doughnut off it. Could work well with our double/reverse letterbox plan.

Hoop-la!

If you really don't like your postie, Project , you could set up a boobie trap, so that when he lifts your flap (!) , a bucket of water, sick, ( insert your own idea), t

Ok my own idea is. A boobie.... Well, he has just lifted my flap!

BTW although I am 132% dead, ( see zombie apocalypse confession on weird thread). P I still feel moved to ask ( slowly moved, I'm quite dry now) Why 53 Fridays?

naked re 53 Fridays. I lost the will to live when the thread went that tangent (only vaguely mathematical pun I will ever do).

Project. BastardCat is prowling ramparts - chained to stop him flying off at night when blood lust makes him - a bit upset. He lurvves bucket idea - being immersed in blood and guts and then being upended on the unworthy! I'm a bit worried if it's during daylight hours; I may have to slather him in factor 50 plus and make him wear his Rayban Arnie stylie Terminator sunglasses, small price to pay and he'll look cool. Word.

Re: 53 Fridays. I have vague memories of a row discussion with my Russian poisoner many moons ago (which he won, fucking know-it-all bastard that he is) that some years there were 53 Fridays.
I can't remember why I brought it into Thighland I was pissed tired and emotional.
Anyway, in our new calendar, I was wanting to keep Friday afternoons, so I still get to say 'Thank fuck it's Friday'.
I forgot our great Thigh had ventured into the great outdoors, I thought she was dead.
Hoorah!

I’m being advertised running shoes

Don't be tempted this !! Have a doughnut quickly! It's a trap!!

Thanks for all advice concerning weight loss advert. I sat for a great amount of time today hoping to catch fat advert culprit red handed. No luck. I did see someone take a clipping from my lilac bush. I shouted “Stop that” , they responded “Oh, sorry, is it yours?”

"No it os not mine but I am the lilac bush police! You are under arrest on suspicion of bush trimming. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence."

And flashed a Blue Peter Badge or something like that at him!

• is not mine

Or immediate death? Someone once stole a little tree from outside my house. To this day I regret not hunting them down and ending them. I really wouldn’t want anyone else to suffer under a similar weight of regret.

Leave a fully loaded super-soaker by the door/window to deal with these miscreants. Or a hose with one of those lance attachments. You're just "watering your lilac".

naked re 53 Fridays. I lost the will to live when the thread went that tangent (only vaguely mathematical pun I will ever do).

Are you a very tall chef? Was it a sine cos of the hypotenuse?

I'm still alive but barely, it's touch and go. I've had to eat a full Welsh breakfast complete with laverbread to use some WiFi in a café.

They offered me farm fresh eggs but I'm no mug, I'm not eating eggs from chickens who know where to find me.

Luckily i brought three boxes of sultana bran and 8 litres of uht milk. There's cows and sheep in my garden but not confident of my milking abilities.

Driving is weird here, there's corners, hills and hedges and no fucking lights. I'm constantly on alert for serial killers behind the hedges and checking for armed Oriental dictators. The only TV is real TV and I'm not sure i thought all this through. Have not sighted any loose chickens yet.