Ashley wrote on Apr 30^th, 2016 at 11:39pm:



LOL. I think not.

But all of that sounds very much like you have a superiority complex Ashley.

Andrei says it's his people that are superior and are GOd's "chosen ones" ... you say it is your lot.

Someone is in for a surprise, now aren't they?

Perhaps, however, you are both being silly and God never meant any of that at all?

Andrei.Hicks wrote on Apr 30^th, 2016 at 11:49pm:



Then perhaps you should express yourself more clearly.

mothra wrote on Apr 30^th, 2016 at 10:56pm:

mothra wrote on Apr 30^th, 2016 at 11:42pm:


That person would be you.

Laugh, scoff, troll all you want. You will still feel as lonely as you appear on here when you go to sleep.

I think you needing to troll me in multiple treads indicates that it is you that has an inferiority complex more to the point.

Yes I know I shouldn't have responded to your bait I was too busy discussing stuff in the other thread where you tried to troll me there.

Do try and not be so bitter love. You only come across as a big nobody.

And well done. You have just evidenced that you feel "superior" to me.

Which was my point all along.

No wonder the world is killing itself ... all these people thinking they are "superior" to everyone else.

Kat wrote on Apr 29^th, 2016 at 4:33pm:


The Coalition didn't put him there - Labor did.

Aussie wrote on Apr 30^th, 2016 at 10:17pm:


Out on the board the old shearer stands,
Grasping his shears in his long, honey hands,
Fixed is his gaze on a bare-bellied "Joe,"
Glory if he gets her, won't he make the "ringer" go.

Chorus: Click go the shears boys, click, click, click,
Wide is his blow and his hands move quick,
The ringer looks around and is beaten by a blow,
And curses the old snagger with the blue-bellied "Joe."

In the middle of the floor, in his cane-bottomed chair
Is the boss of the board, with eyes everywhere;
Notes well each fleece as it comes to the screen
Paying strict attention if it's taken off clean.

The colonial experience man, he is there, of course,
With his shiny leggin's, just got off his horse,
Casting round his eye like a real connoisseur,
Whistling the old tune, "I'm the Perfect Lure."

The tar-boy is there, awaiting in demand,
With his blackened tar-pot, and his tarry hand;
Sees one old sheep with a cut upon its back,
Hears what he's waiting for, "Tar here, Jack!"

Shearing is all over and we've all got our cheques,
Roll up your swag for we're off on the tracks;
The first pub we come to, it's there we'll have a spree,
And everyone that comes along it's "Come and drink with me!"

Down by the bar the old shearer stands,
Grasping his glass in his thin honey hands;
Fixed is his gaze on a green-painted keg,
Glory he'll get down on it, ere he stirs a peg.

There we leave him standing, shouting for all hands,
Whilst all around him, every "shouter" stands
His eyes are on the cask, which is now lowering fast,
He works hard, he drinks hard, and goes to hell at last!

red baron wrote on May 1^st, 2016 at 4:41pm:


Why has it taken them so long?