That's the glow that the great leatherneck Teeside Tortle follows as it makes it's way from the breeding grounds of Yarm to the spawning beaches of Hartlepool, when it breaks through the smog, once every year...
Actually. Almost as bad as losing the art of manliness is the retaining the art of pretending that you're super-manly. I work with a bloke who tries to assert the fact that he's the most manly man on the face of planet earth. "I don't eat sweet stuff. It's for women and bairns" "All gays should be put on an island and bombed" (At least I think he said bombed) "I can drink 20 pints etc etc etc......
Nah, saw him last night in Jurassic Park, just a bit of a limp and a Scottish accent. They can treat that.
I can be super manly, while retaining a compassionate nature. I choose not to, but that's because I'm a complete cnut too. I consider all creeds, colours, genders, and species all as equals, with a balanced level of contempt for each and every one. I will quaff the ale, but also sip the wine, because it looks sophisticated, and the ladies like that. I will banter and flirt with both men and women, because, hey! they're going to love me no matter what. I can't blame them so I throw them a bone. I'm a true renaissance man. They were all self obsessed, leather clad, piss head, pseudo intellectuals too...
Come on Steve, even the women in Cornwall qualify as super manly. I was particularly impressed on the telly the other night how quickly they could walk from Jamaica Inn to the beach too...
I can't help but imagine that Cornish women would look like Nanette Newman compared to some of the sturdy specimens we've got up here.
Cornish women are bloody gorgeous mate. If you ever want a lifeboat dragged across Bodmin Moor, they'll oblige, wet nursing their baby with the other hand. Don't ever spill their pint of Doom Bar though...
