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| Author | Message / Information |
| UrbanBeachcomber | Top Tramps posted on: 2/25/2004 4:43:45 PM Does anyone remember "Bob" the tramp in Selly Oak in the 70's and early 80s? He was ace... He looked like Perliugi Collina in an overcoat tied up with string! He did all sorts of tricks, balancing and juggling etc, but in an oddly menacing way. I once saw him walking up and down on stilts made from bean cans and grinning evilly! Anyone know whatever happend to him? Anyone have any other reminicences of "gentlemen/women of the road" that have frequented the streets of our beloved city? |
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Dedalus
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Top Tramps
replied on: 2/25/2004 10:56:15 PM quote: there's you fer starters |
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WHORYA
Rank: Chinny |
Top Tramps
replied on: 2/26/2004 6:59:32 AM Heading back to the pub from the vile ground we were given abit of a tour by the police and i must admit i'd never seen so many down and outs in one place,as if it wasn't bad enough we have to travel through such a shite hole we had to endure the local community who on a good day would just about qualify to be called tramps. |
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Gravy Hole
Rank: Oddie |
Top Tramps
replied on: 2/27/2004 5:00:14 PM Time for a friday afternoon yarn: I met a great tramp in Dieppe once. We had rented 2 motorhomes and there were about 10 of us. We'd had a great time, we were all knacked and we had for the most part 'done our wedges'. We were sunburned, grubby, hung-over. Worst of all, we'd missed our ferry and there wasn't another one until the next morning. On Sunday night, everything in France is bloody closed. Three of us were sent forth into town, in search of 'refreshments'. We needed to ask a local where we could find an offy or bar that would supply some carry-out. We spotted the man we would later christen "Throaty" shambling along the sea-front. He was a little dishevelled, though not in the same league Malik. He seemed very interested in our clumsy requests for directions to purveyors of strong liquor. On reflection, I suspect he thought we were inviting him along. Our questions were answered with much gesticulating and facial contortion, but no dialogue, French or otherwise. It got to the point were maps were being drawn in the condensation on car windscreens, but still not a single word was uttered by our new-found vagrant friend, despite our ever more urgent pleas. I was losing the will to live by this point and decided it was time to take matters in hand. I confronted him and demanded that he tell us where we needed to go. He made a smoking gesture (two fingers up to his mouth, at least, I think it was a smoking gesture) so I gave him one of my biffo's. At this point, he rolled down the collar of his polo necked jumper and deftly removed the gauze pad that was covering the gastly, ragged and very recent looking tacheotomy hole in the front of his neck. It was an unseasonably chilly evening and his breath created a vapour in the air, as it rattled out of this hideous gaping orifice. I very nearly passed-out. I believe "Ohfor****ssake" and "Mmmmotherfu cker!" were uttered by my pals. I eventually regained my composure, only for Throaty to snatch it away again by covering his tracheotomy with the heel of his palm, lighting the Marly I'd just given him and blowing the smoke out of his neck hole. That finished it for me. Poor bugger. He obviously was lonely and hopeful that we would be his hosts for the rest of the evening. We had considerable difficulty in shaking him off. It was about that time that I figured that maybe I should quit smoking. |
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