• I can put lads like that to work no problem. Our current ox-boy is turning out to be a fantastic climber and will go far.
    Best labourer on earth is the fabled ‘Danny the Marine’ of Oxfordshire/Buckinghamshire: basically the largest human being I’ve ever clapped eyes on, seen him shove loaded plant trailers around muddy yards, roll tree trunks the Avant struggles with and drink 10 fishbowl cocktails then kick off against half a dozen coked up scaffolders on the Xmas do. A kind and gentle soul with the power of a gorilla on pcp.
    We’ve got a little rudeboy gangster kid as well. It’s hilarious watching him trying to talk to little old ladies, he’s actually a nice lad but the Ali G vibe is strong.

  • Sounds like all we need is a few straw bales and a ref for a labourer-off. I have a scrawny street kid for the lightweight division as well. I can offer Mel, my longtime second in command as ref, she is a hard as nails ex-doorperson lesbian brickie who can genuinely talk to clients without dropping me in the poo.

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