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Right. I had to get up in the morning at ten o'clock at night half an hour before I went to bed, drink a cup of sulphuric acid, work twenty-nine hours a day down mill, and pay mill owner for permission to come to work, and when we got home, our Dad and our mother would kill us and dance about on our graves singing Hallelujah.

:lol:

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Right. I had to get up in the morning at ten o'clock at night half an hour before I went to bed, drink a cup of sulphuric acid, work twenty-nine hours a day down mill, and pay mill owner for permission to come to work, and when we got home, our Dad and our mother would kill us and dance about on our graves singing Hallelujah.

:lol:

 

And if you told the youth of today that, they wouldn't believe you!

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Du thinks du had it hard McFly? I used to work as a broken glass taster, sleeping was completely banned, to begin with I had to give away all my money just to go to work, but the bosses decided they would rather have us grate off all our skin and dive into a salt bath each morning. During our 30 second break every 40 hours, we were allowed to rinse out our mouths with fishing hooks. No toilet breaks for us. Every time we needed to go, the bosses would make us do a highjump until eventually someone would crap mid-flight. It was almost always dihorrea, and we had to catch it in our mouths or the bosses would plunge thier clipboards through our necks. In the afternoon we were usually given morphine to keep us alive (health and safety law after all), but 2 seconds later we would be injected with the gasses from a flourescent light tube. If I tasted some broken glass which I felt had gone off, the bosses would sand-blast my eyes out, and fill the holes with plastic wood and splinters. At the end of our 40 year day, we would go out to the carpark, only to find that our company cars had been replaced with steamed lava goats, which would burn away at our crotches on the trans-continental journey home.

 

The crack was good though.

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Du thinks du had it hard McFly? I used to work as a broken glass taster, sleeping was completely banned, to begin with I had to give away all my money just to go to work, but the bosses decided they would rather have us grate off all our skin and dive into a salt bath each morning. During our 30 second break every 40 hours, we were allowed to rinse out our mouths with fishing hooks. No toilet breaks for us. Every time we needed to go, the bosses would make us do a highjump until eventually someone would crap mid-flight. It was almost always dihorrea, and we had to catch it in our mouths or the bosses would plunge thier clipboards through our necks. In the afternoon we were usually given morphine to keep us alive (health and safety law after all), but 2 seconds later we would be injected with the gasses from a flourescent light tube. If I tasted some broken glass which I felt had gone off, the bosses would sand-blast my eyes out, and fill the holes with plastic wood and splinters. At the end of our 40 year day, we would go out to the carpark, only to find that our company cars had been replaced with steamed lava goats, which would burn away at our crotches on the trans-continental journey home.

 

The crack was good though.

 

:lol:

 

I am ashamed of my own pathetic effort PoolHaddock.

 

And mine was pinched from a Monty Python sketch.

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Dy een has much better longevity though. Every time I look at it I nearly fall of my seat laughing :lol: :lol: :lol:

 

It's this line that really does it for me:

 

when we got home, our Dad and our mother would kill us and dance about on our graves singing Hallelujah.

Ooooh, my belly is sore just fae typing this post....... get it away! :lol:

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I think it was Michael Palin in the original sketch.

 

I have it as Cleese doing it.

 

Hmm.

 

I've just had a root aboot on Google, and every reference I can find says it was actually Eric Idle who had that line. Apparently Cleese wasn't even in the sketch.

 

It would appear we're both memory marvels, eh JAS? :wink:

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