I come from the north; anything above 20° and I graduate to the shorter shorts.

I used to laugh at that little boy who said shorts are comfy and easy to wear, but by God was he right about it.

I went to see King Gizzard recently, earplugs in pocket, and I suppose I never found a moment to stick them in, but I was stood near the front the whole time and I came away with absolutely none of the usual hearing damage. I don’t know how they did it, but what a great bunch of lads.

When I were a lad, I’d get told never to put all my eggs in one basket.

I’ve visited my native England a few times by train from the Netherlands and it’s a breeze, but a bit dear if you don’t plan it a thousand years in advance. A few months ago I took the sleeper to Vienna and back and it was very good indeed, better than the Caledonian Sleeper I might daresay. I have a medium-long and fairly good anecdote about getting the train to a village in Germany last winter if anyone’s interested. I went to see Lightning Bolt in Paris a few years ago and that went swimmingly too. I’d like to go to Spain or Portugal at some point but it’s something like 13 hours by train. Oh, and when I lived in the UK, I was working at a train station, so I’d use my staff discount to go quite far afield: I took the train from Liverpool to Lille once with my bike and cycled up to Amsterdam; I took the train once to Luxembourg, then Trier, then Bonn to visit a friend, with a little detour to the bit where Luxembourg, France, and Germany meet (Schengen). It’s a nice way to spend a day if you just bring a book or something.

I’ve had to do it twice in my life, and I cut the hair with scissors first then used a cheap razor much like these: https://www.voordeeldrogisterij.nl/premium-laser-twin-wegwerpscheermes-10-stuks.html?id=272026839 Came off painlessly.

They’re no turnips; they’re daikons.

The original website mentioned there is like my platonic ideal of a website. https://www.lby3.com/wir/

Undergoing severe semantic satiation here lads.

I think the thing stopping me from doing 40 squats in a minute is that it might make me dizzy, not that my legs aren’t strong enough or whatever.

Ah, nou, dat verklaart het wel!

I bought a vintage racer in 2018 with the intention of fixing it up, repainting it, etc, as it had clearly rusty parts and exposed steel, and I ended up not bothering for one reason or another, but it was every bit as zippy and manoeuvrable when I had an accident on it last year that meant I had to chuck it in the tip. I shouldn’t brag or whatever but I remember this little speed counter thing saying I was breaking the limit a few minutes before the crash.

Ik heb ergens gelezen dat Volt een zetel van BBB hebben overgenomen. Leek mij raar!

I went to see a film with my mate just last week at the pictures, and I ended up needing the foreign subtitles, so after it had finished I turned to him and said “could you hear a fucking word any of them were saying?” he said “I was going to say that!” This was the film: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_End_We_Start_From so there are parts where I assume you’re supposed to be seeing things through her eyes and she’s all discombobulated, but then why have subtitles if that’s the case?

I remember once looking over my sister’s shoulder while she was on MSN messenger and a mutual friend chose that moment to confess (via MSN messenger) that he fucked pillows for practice.

I looked up “veridian” and found out it’s spelt “viridian” so maybe that’s the true Mandela effect at play here!

This motherfucker when their wife tells them about their day: there was no beginning, middle, or end; the climax wasn’t revealed in chronological order; the hero is clearly a Mary-Sue…

but it can do editing too

Oh?

Tap!

I’m fairly good at thinking up insulting nicknames, but I only ever give them to people above me in the work hierarchy. A boss where I currently work is called Jan, and he’s always fucking whinging about one thing or another, so I call him Jankerd (crybaby). A boss I had last year was called Onno, and he was fucking disorganised, so I called him Onnoverzichtelijk (disorganised). One of the managers there was a fucking idiot but he always walked around like the cock of the walk, so I called him Schaakduif (chess pigeon). His name was Abel so I’d also call him Incapabel. There was a lad there called Pepijn who I called Hoofdpijn (headache) for a laugh once or twice. You have to make your fun where you can, sometimes.