How the fuck do you set Blackpool tower on fire
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Looking for a portrait painter in North England who would be willing to do a large, full-body, realistic portrait (preferably painted live) about the size of your average poster. I'm a 17 year old student so my budget is £350 for the service. Would be willing to talk it out though.
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just saw a video of some northerner kids messing with some drunk Americans, saying they'd fallen asleep on the bus and needed to get back to Orlando two hours away and that they'd walk 18 hours or whatever, building up this big story.... I'm laughing literally as soon as I heard their tone I was like 'they're fucking with you mate' like I know that exact voice that we use and our weird sense of humour of just straight up fucking lying and going wilder and wilder to see if people believe you or not and staying dead serious for the bit.... everyone in the comments is reacting totally sincerely wondering if they got back or not and I'm just here like MAAAATE they're pulling one over on them, as soon as the camera stopped recording and the Americans left you can bet they were laughing their arses off talking about who told the weirdest lie
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A guide to surviving North England
When asked the best tea brand, the only acceptable answer is Yorkshire Tea.
Do not challenge a seagull. You will lose. Give up your food, it is a sacrifice we must make for survival.
Do not go to Blackpool. The lights are pretty, yes, but it is a Hell Mouth and each new person to enter is another inch that door to Hell opens.
Always say thank you when someone holds a door open for you. A grudge will be held if you forget.
Greggs and Wetherspoons are unknown entities. They are not patisserie, nor restaurant, nor pub.
Twinnings English Breakfast tea tastes watery no matter what you do to it, do not buy.
Manchester is both the best and worst city.
Everyone knows everyone in Lancashire in some way.
Bury is pronounced as it's spelled. Not Berry. No matter what the people who live there try to tell you. If it was said Berry there would be an E in it.
Every single wedding will play Come On, Eileen. You must dance.
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So this is a pretty common saying in the north of England. It means 'nothing as strange as people' and it's usually an affectionate way of noting that people might be a bit weird/daft/silly sometimes, but everyone is from someone's point of view. But obviously, being queer myself, and also being bereft of good, unique stuff to wear to pride this year, I had to play around with the phrase for myself!
If this is something you want physically printed on a sticker, book or pin badge to keep handy, consider having a look over here - you get something pretty and I get a little profit, too!
And if you're super cool and just want to support more of this kind of thing without getting a tangible reward, I also have a Ko-fi!
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Before the north was made part of England we were literally a cultural capital of Northern Europe
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Can't believe there's no Chinese open after midnight in my town, what a shithole
(Having a Northern moment)
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Broken rings of silver and coffee
Stain the kitchen table
Promises foretold
When they were young and once able
Angry whispered words
Filled with venom because of purse strings
My mother, slumped and crying
Trying to find loose pennies between the cushioned seats
Inherited accents, trauma and preconceptions
Bruised egos and stained skin
Anger thrums in the blood
Of our own naive young kin
Motherhood and it’s meaning
Mother, father, teacher and jailor
A married single parent
Being the repairman, chef and painter
Years pass by
Journalists screech on TV screens
Shouting about everything and anything
Except the epidemic of death amongst teens
A nation built on generational violence and poverty
Blood stains their kitchen knives
A repeat of the silent anger
The father in their child’s eyes
These young and unruly
Angry generation of degenerates
Don’t they know how hard we had it
Even though we got more for less?
Back in my hometown
Violence is in our homes
The loud silent truth
Even among our own
Ash filled lullabies
Rock our babies to their slumber
Is it any wonder
That the world has started to feel their thunder?
Protesters and strikers line the streets
Both physical and online
While parliament sit quaking
Hoping that everything will be fine
The boogeyman has been replaced
Like everyone else in the world
The monster children fear
Having Tory as one of the words
A class war wages on
The working class turns on itself
While Mother Earth screams and shouts
Calling for our help
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