Working away with Degsy I recall 2 great stories that define the curious fellow. A proud white Bradfordian. We were down souh, Portsmouth I think. After a bellyfull of beer we headed for an Indian meal. Admittedly, the fare was an 'English' curry and most Bradfordians know Indian and Pakistani quisine. On completion Deggsy came out with the classic line, 'I can't wat to get home, have a proper curry, made by real Yorkshire pakis, none of your foriegn muck.'
Another site a strict foreman who saw Degs weaing trainers. He walked over, hoping to impress in his boots and stamped on Degsys' foot shouting ,'wheres your steel toecaps?'.
Deggs stepped forward, looked him in the eye, a moments tense silence then brutally headbutted the bridge of his nose, blood poured down his face. 'Where is your fucking hardhat boss?'
No comments:
Post a Comment