squirtyflower
Well-Known Member
If the cap fitsDucado said:
You are using an out of date browser. It may not display this or other websites correctly.
You should upgrade or use an alternative browser.
You should upgrade or use an alternative browser.
Muffin or Barm
- Thread starter Kippax.
- Start date
Ducado
Well-Known Member
squirtyflower said:If the cap fitsDucado said:squirtyflower said:Only the deluded who have allowed years of Americanisation to seep into their porous minds without the fortitude to remain loyal to their English, nay Northern, heritage could possibly think a muffin is a cafe.
Switch off your TVs, stop watching Hollywood and return to the days when you knew who you were.
I'm off to make a nice egg and bacon muffin, bacon reared by the farmer across the road, eggs from the chickens next door and a good old Lancashire oven bottom muffin.
Et tu Squirty? :-(
It's a good job that I know that Ric is a Barm man
D
D
dronefromsector7g
Guest
Are barms American then?
shadygiz
Moderator
nimrod said:shadygiz said:nimrod said:Stalybridge Dukinfield Mossley Glossop Mottram Hadfield Tintwistle all muffin towns
yup, i'm in the heart of muffin country ;p
as you drive along ashton new (or old) road towards m/cr where does it change from muffin to barm ?
as a guess, i would say droylsden or gorton....but i reckon the chippies still say chip muffin on the menu boards ;)
squirtyflower
Well-Known Member
Isn't he from Stockport?Ducado said:squirtyflower said:If the cap fitsDucado said:Et tu Squirty? :-(
It's a good job that I know that Ric is a Barm man
Southern Jessie
its a Barm
Well-Known Member
well you know my view on the subject.
andyhinch
Well-Known Member
The only way a right minded person would think, muffin my arse.its a Barm said:well you know my view on the subject.
Cellarite
Well-Known Member
- Joined
- 12 Jan 2010
- Messages
- 25,964
- Team supported
- Manchester City
"She knew he'd be back from a hard day's toil before the hour struck. A face full of dirt and his fingers tattered at the edges, he'd roughly scrub away at the red raw skin that covered the finest tools he ever had. The children were in bed having been washed, put into their night clothes, homework and reading complete ready for their next bout of schooling.
The wind howled and rattled against the windows as she looked out longingly at the dark street tinted with a dim orange from the street lamps. The kettle whistled, 'Damn thing' she cussed. Trying to bring it to the boil just as he came into view was an achievement she'd managed only a handful of times despite the months, nay, years of practice.
He'd be like a hungry bear when he arrived. A steaming hot cup of tea, just the right temperature for drinking hurriedly once he'd scrubbed up and another ready for when he'd ate the last of his chip barm was the order of the day. His appetite fed, she knew he'd march her up the stairs, pull her knickers to the side and give her a bloody good rodgering before returning to the cold street in search of half a dozen glasses of stout to help him sleep.
She shuddered with anticipation as she pondered the depraved and barely legal acts he'd demand she carried out later that November evening."
Excerpt from 'The Court Marshall's Dilemma' - 1961.
The wind howled and rattled against the windows as she looked out longingly at the dark street tinted with a dim orange from the street lamps. The kettle whistled, 'Damn thing' she cussed. Trying to bring it to the boil just as he came into view was an achievement she'd managed only a handful of times despite the months, nay, years of practice.
He'd be like a hungry bear when he arrived. A steaming hot cup of tea, just the right temperature for drinking hurriedly once he'd scrubbed up and another ready for when he'd ate the last of his chip barm was the order of the day. His appetite fed, she knew he'd march her up the stairs, pull her knickers to the side and give her a bloody good rodgering before returning to the cold street in search of half a dozen glasses of stout to help him sleep.
She shuddered with anticipation as she pondered the depraved and barely legal acts he'd demand she carried out later that November evening."
Excerpt from 'The Court Marshall's Dilemma' - 1961.
Ducado
Well-Known Member
The Barm Fights Back!
Cellarite
Well-Known Member
- Joined
- 12 Jan 2010
- Messages
- 25,964
- Team supported
- Manchester City
"Wearing his best black trousers and his hair slicked back, Simon Janaway alighted the bus on the corner near the bridge. The driver had been a little grumpy but he'd forgotten almost as soon as his front foot hit the pavement. Nothing was going to ruin his sense of excitement tonight. It was disco night and he knew she'd be there.
His bus ride had hardly been a barrel of laughs. Cider Brian had delayed the journey by getting on at Salford Precinct and arguing with the driver. Maybe that was what put the dark cloud over the Stagecoach employee. The 67 service from Cadishead to Piccadilly had brought him to his favourite event of the week so many times and each week brought a new chapter to the book he had half written in his mind's eye.
Not wanting to get settled after work, Simon had skipped tea much to his mother's ire. He always carried enough change on a Friday for his bus fair and a bite to eat. The first mouthful always burnt his mouth and, laughing through the bread, he vowed to remember not to fall for the same thing yet again the next week.
It was then that they came into view. Dave Murray, Stu Booth, Rick Woods and the two others whose names he wasn't yet familiar with. They'd never bothered Simon but he was sure they'd roughed up his friend Lee Saville a month back.
'Give us a bite' yelled Murray as they approached. Simon tried to be casual and calmly answered 'Evening lads' in the faint hope they were pulling his leg.
'What have you got there?' enquired Stu Booth, 'Give us a bit.'
'Give over lads,' Simon jested 'I've not had any tea and this chip muffin is all I'll have tonight.'
'Fucking chip muffin? Are you a Yank or a bastard woollyback? If we were the aggressive types, you'd be on the end of a good shoeing for talking bollocks you soft ****.' barked Booth.
Simon was surprised that they'd walked on. He was always afraid of the boys from the catholic school despite his age advantage. He glanced around to make sure no-one had spotted his arrival on Deansgate, quickly crossed the road and checked the bus timetable for the next 67 to Cadishead. He hoped it'd be here soon because in the autumn cold, his piss stained trousers would soon start chaffing the inside of his legs again.
Except from "The Goat and the Rat" - 1977.
His bus ride had hardly been a barrel of laughs. Cider Brian had delayed the journey by getting on at Salford Precinct and arguing with the driver. Maybe that was what put the dark cloud over the Stagecoach employee. The 67 service from Cadishead to Piccadilly had brought him to his favourite event of the week so many times and each week brought a new chapter to the book he had half written in his mind's eye.
Not wanting to get settled after work, Simon had skipped tea much to his mother's ire. He always carried enough change on a Friday for his bus fair and a bite to eat. The first mouthful always burnt his mouth and, laughing through the bread, he vowed to remember not to fall for the same thing yet again the next week.
It was then that they came into view. Dave Murray, Stu Booth, Rick Woods and the two others whose names he wasn't yet familiar with. They'd never bothered Simon but he was sure they'd roughed up his friend Lee Saville a month back.
'Give us a bite' yelled Murray as they approached. Simon tried to be casual and calmly answered 'Evening lads' in the faint hope they were pulling his leg.
'What have you got there?' enquired Stu Booth, 'Give us a bit.'
'Give over lads,' Simon jested 'I've not had any tea and this chip muffin is all I'll have tonight.'
'Fucking chip muffin? Are you a Yank or a bastard woollyback? If we were the aggressive types, you'd be on the end of a good shoeing for talking bollocks you soft ****.' barked Booth.
Simon was surprised that they'd walked on. He was always afraid of the boys from the catholic school despite his age advantage. He glanced around to make sure no-one had spotted his arrival on Deansgate, quickly crossed the road and checked the bus timetable for the next 67 to Cadishead. He hoped it'd be here soon because in the autumn cold, his piss stained trousers would soon start chaffing the inside of his legs again.
Except from "The Goat and the Rat" - 1977.