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 Post subject: Berømte sitater
PostPosted: Fri 06 Jun 2008 09:01 
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"I fart in your general direction. Your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries... Now go away or I shall taunt you a second time, you silly English kuh-niggits!"

Anyone? :wink:


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PostPosted: Fri 06 Jun 2008 09:30 
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Var det ett spørsmål ?
Det er jo ett av historiens mest kjennte :wink:
"You don't frighten us, English pig-dogs! Go and boil your bottom, sons of a silly person. I blow my nose at you, so-called Arthur King, you and all your silly English k-nnnnniggets."




"I can't listen to that much Wagner. I start getting the urge to conquer Poland."

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PostPosted: Fri 06 Jun 2008 09:56 
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Location: Østenfor sol og vestenfor måne
Simplicity is the ultimate sophistication.

I speak Spanish to God, Italian to women, French to men and German to my horse.


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PostPosted: Sat 07 Jun 2008 09:31 
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asn wrote:
"I can't listen to that much Wagner. I start getting the urge to conquer Poland."

Mel Brooks?


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PostPosted: Sat 07 Jun 2008 10:13 
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Dong Corleone wrote:
asn wrote:
"I can't listen to that much Wagner. I start getting the urge to conquer Poland."

Mel Brooks?


Nupe, tenk Amerikansk, kortvokst og brillefin :wink:

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PostPosted: Sun 08 Jun 2008 20:44 
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"Man is the best computer we can put aboard a spacecraft... and the only one that can be mass produced with unskilled labor."

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PostPosted: Sun 08 Jun 2008 21:14 
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"So many assholes, so few bullets"

"Some play hard to get, i play hard to want!"


8)


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PostPosted: Mon 09 Jun 2008 08:25 
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asn wrote:
Dong Corleone wrote:
asn wrote:
"I can't listen to that much Wagner. I start getting the urge to conquer Poland."

Mel Brooks?


Nupe, tenk Amerikansk, kortvokst og brillefin :wink:

Øhh - Woody Allen. :oops:


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PostPosted: Mon 09 Jun 2008 12:09 
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Dong Corleone wrote:
asn wrote:
Dong Corleone wrote:
asn wrote:
"I can't listen to that much Wagner. I start getting the urge to conquer Poland."

Mel Brooks?


Nupe, tenk Amerikansk, kortvokst og brillefin :wink:

Øhh - Woody Allen. :oops:


Corretto signore, kun Tinius overgår denne mannen hva anngår brillebruk :wink:

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PostPosted: Mon 09 Jun 2008 12:52 
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Yes, I quite agree, I mean what's the point of being treated like sheep? What's the point of going abroad if you're just another tourist carted around in buses surrounded by sweaty mindless oafs from Kettering and Coventry in their cloth caps and their cardigans and their transistor radios and their Sunday Mirrors, complaining about the tea - "Oh they don't make it properly here, do they, not like at home" - and stopping at Majorcan bodegas selling fish and chips and Watney's Red Barrel and calamares and two veg and sitting in their cotton frocks squirting Timothy White's suncream all over their puffy raw swollen purulent flesh 'cos they "overdid it on the first day"? And being herded into endless Hotel Miramars and Bellvueses and Continentales with their modern international luxury roomettes and draught Red Barrel and swimming pools full of fat German businessmen pretending they're acrobats forming pyramids and frightening the children and barging into queues and if you're not at your table spot on seven you miss the bowl of Campbell's Cream of Mushroom soup, the first item on the menu of International Cuisine, and every Thursday night the hotel has a bloody cabaret in the bar, featuring a tiny emaciated dago with nine-inch hips and some bloated fat tart with her hair brylcreemed down and a big arse presenting Flamenco for Foreigners. And then some adenoidal typists from Birmingham with flabby white legs and diarrhoea trying to pick up hairy bandy-legged wop waiters called Manuel and once a week there's an excursion to the local Roman Remains to buy cherryade and melted ice cream and bleeding Watney's Red Barrel and one evening you visit the so called typical restaurant with local colour and atmosphere and you sit next to a party from Rhyl who keep singing "Torremolinos, torremolinos" and complaining about the food - "It's so greasy isn't it?" - and you get cornered by some drunken greengrocer from Luton with an Instamatic camera and Dr. Scholl sandals and last Tuesday's Daily Express and he drones on and on about how Mr. Smith should be running this country and how many languages Enoch Powell can speak, and then he throws up over the Cuba Libres. And sending tinted postcards of places they don't realise they haven't even visited to "All at number 22, weather wonderful, our room is marked with an 'X'. Food very greasy but we've found a charming little local place hidden away in the back streets where they serve Watney's Red Barrel and cheese and onion....... crisps and the accordionist plays 'Maybe it's because I'm a Londoner'." And spending four days on the tarmac at Luton airport on a five-day package tour with nothing to eat but dried BEA-type sandwiches and you can't even get a drink of Watney's Red Barrel because you're still in England and the bloody bar closes every time you're thirsty and there's nowhere to sleep and the kids are crying and vomiting and breaking the plastic ash-trays and they keep telling you it'll only be another hour although your plane is still in Iceland and has to take some Swedes to Yugoslavia before it can load you up at 3 a.m. in the bloody morning and you sit on the tarmac till six because of "unforeseen difficulties", i.e. the permanent strike of Air Traffic Control in Paris - and nobody can go to the lavatory until you take off at 8, and when you get to Malaga airport everybody's swallowing "enterovioform" and queuing for the toilets and queuing for the armed customs officers, and queuing for the bloody bus that isn't there to take you to the hotel that hasn't yet been finished. And when you finally get to the half-built Algerian ruin called the Hotel del Sol by paying half your holiday money to a licensed bandit in a taxi you find there's no water in the pool, there's no water in the taps, there's no water in the bog and there's only a bleeding lizard in the bidet. And half the rooms are double booked and you can't sleep anyway because of the permanent twenty-four-hour drilling of the foundations of the hotel next door - and you're plagued by appalling apprentice chemists from Ealing pretending to be hippies, and middle-class stockbrokers' wives busily buying identical holiday villas in suburban development plots just like Esher, in case the Labour government gets in again, and fat American matrons with sloppy-buttocks and Hawaiian-patterned ski pants looking for any mulatto male who can keep it up long enough when they finally let it all flop out. And the Spanish Tourist Board promises you that the raging cholera epidemic is merely a case of mild Spanish tummy, like the previous outbreak of Spanish tummy in 1660 which killed half London and decimated Europe - and meanwhile the bloody Guardia are busy arresting sixteen-year-olds for kissing in the streets and shooting anyone under nineteen who doesn't like Franco. And then on the last day in the airport lounge everyone's comparing sunburns, drinking Nasty Spumante, buying cartons of duty free "cigarillos" and using up their last pesetas on horrid dolls in Spanish National costume and awful straw donkeys and bullfight posters with your name on "Ordoney, El Cordobes and Brian Pules of Norwich" and 3-D pictures of the Pope and Kennedy and Franco, and everybody's talking about coming again next year and you swear you never will although there you are tumbling bleary-eyed out of a tourist-tight antique Iberian airplane...


Last edited by Dong Corleone on Tue 10 Jun 2008 08:41, edited 2 times in total.

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PostPosted: Mon 09 Jun 2008 15:36 
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"Sometimes we find ourselves in desperate need and we look to those of privilege and power. It's then we learn compassion sits inert upon the shelves and we're at the mercy of imbeciles." - Bad Religion

"People don't read anymore, they watch T.V. The news is often their only source of non-fiction. We must remember that the news itself is only entertainment."

"For man in his natural state, is the WORK OF GOD, but, as we now see him, he may be said, properly enough, to be the work of man . . ." (Lord Monboddo;
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PostPosted: Mon 09 Jun 2008 17:32 
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"Anyone who is capable of getting themselves made President should on no account be allowed to do the job."

?

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PostPosted: Mon 09 Jun 2008 17:58 
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"May you live to be 100 and may the last voice you hear be mine."


"I feel sorry for people who don't drink. When they wake up in the morning, that's as good as they're going to feel all day."


"The best revenge is massive success. "

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PostPosted: Tue 10 Jun 2008 08:36 
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asn wrote:
"I feel sorry for people who don't drink. When they wake up in the morning, that's as good as they're going to feel all day."

George Burns? Dean Martin? Dave Allen?


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PostPosted: Tue 10 Jun 2008 09:14 
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Dong Corleone wrote:
asn wrote:
"I feel sorry for people who don't drink. When they wake up in the morning, that's as good as they're going to feel all day."

George Burns? Dean Martin? Dave Allen?



Som de selv ville sagt det, no cigar for you! soup nazi etc...
when the moon hits your eye like a big-e pizza pie....

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