I cba with any of this, I spend shrap when I can, if not I march it in collection tin like the lifeboat one you see on the jump sometime.
To be honest if there's a charidee tin in the shop where i am given said shrapnel then i will dump it in there, my money tin only gets used if i've got loose change in my pocket at the end of the day.
Interesting, you all save your loose stuff for YOURSELVES !!
I put all my loose change in a Diabetes UK collector/jar and pass this over to their stand down at the local specsavers where they give me a new empty one. Am I too soft? Or too rich?
There was a Geography teacher at my secondary school (Dorothy Stringer), his hair starting to thin and his trousers too spacious, who had the hots for the Maths teacher who did a bit of PE on the side. Before her PE class she'd be teaching us Maths in her gym skirt with boys waiting for her pen to drop into the cracks in the floor so she'd bend for a lifetime and display all her womanhood. We'd always see this Geography teacher come in to make one of his visits around this time. He'd be friendly and chatty, but what i mainly remember were his pockets madly ajingle when standing next to or behind her. His hands went aquiver with obvious excitement and many of us thought his slacks were so cavernous to hide an erection somewhere within. Still, it was this activity and noise of copper wrestling that made me never want to be a man with jinglyjangly pockets.
I doubt the teachers ever made a couple, her too sporty and bouyant and not quite old enough to have reached desperation, so the wanky Geography tutor must have had to lower his expectations and go for one of the yellow-toothed, nest-haired Science birds instead.
Anyway, my point is that i empty my pockets of loose change nightly (which sounds like a wank euphemism too) to avoid the attention their din generates.
There was a Geography teacher at my secondary school (Dorothy Stringer), his hair starting to thin and his trousers too spacious, who had the hots for the Maths teacher who did a bit of PE on the side. Before her PE class she'd be teaching us Maths in her gym skirt with boys waiting for her pen to drop into the cracks in the floor so she'd bend for a lifetime and display all her womanhood. We'd always see this Geography teacher come in to make one of his visits around this time. He'd be friendly and chatty, but what i mainly remember were his pockets madly ajingle when standing next to or behind her. His hands went aquiver with obvious excitement and many of us thought his slacks were so cavernous to hide an erection somewhere within. Still, it was this activity and noise of copper wrestling that made me never want to be a man with jinglyjangly pockets.
I doubt the teachers ever made a couple, her too sporty and bouyant and not quite old enough to have reached desperation, so the wanky Geography tutor must have had to lower his expectations and go for one of the yellow-toothed, nest-haired Science birds instead.
Anyway, my point is that i empty my pockets of loose change nightly (which sounds like a wank euphemism too) to avoid the attention their din generates.
HA!
That is the best thing I've read on here for a long, long time. Really sums up Stringer too.
Bless you, Meado.