Tara

I keep thinking about the person he owes the money to. IMAGINE what delicious revenge it would be. They'll probably get the money back and also landed a serious blow to Gavin's presidential campaign

Shes the best of a bad bunch.

So good. Just what i needed

@jaycoyle.bsky.social Jay, walk hard was superb!

😂

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Rip to the best looking man in the world.

National Guard guy threatens to call the police on the person playing the Star Wars music behind them in DC

Its next up so.

For your entertainment on this Saturday night. We have a melodic bodhrán rendition of the latest classic - Conor McGregor is a bellend. Pass it on...

(Video credit www.instagram.com/jachos1978/)

Ive never heard of this. I adore martindale

Man i’d love to see this.

😂 aul shit stirrer!

He’s a big fucking baby.

He always came across as a dick

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Just got an answer on connections ….

Bravo Banksy. 👏

“A new mural by elusive street artist Banksy has appeared on the side of the Royal Courts of Justice building in central London.”

Anyone know where I can get a DVD copy of Song of Granite?

Want to use it in school.
(Easier when it's a dvd)

Fierce fancy altogether

Mornin’

Smajo Beso • Follow 3d • © I started school in Newcastle in Year 5 without knowing a word of English. I was nine years old and had arrived as a refugee from Bosnia just a couple of months earlier. I was one of those strangers our politicians often speak about. I missed my grandparents and friends. I was having awful nightmares, and I would wake up screaming every single night. I hated going to school. I would sit in my chair, look out of the window, and spend my day daydreaming about ways to run back to Bosnia. I didn't want to be here. After a couple of weeks at school, my teacher, Miss Webster, and my classmates did something special to help me settle, something that made me feel less of a stranger. That was the first day I went home with a smile on my face. I have shared this story before, but as tomorrow is start of the new school year, I thought I would share it again. **

Miss Webster was amazing, but I couldn't understand a word she was saying. She had this ritual where, at the end of each day, we would all sit on the floor around her, she would play the guitar, and we would all sing a song together. I couldn't understand what they were singing, but I could see she would sing one part of the song, then she would say someone's name or point to them. The next part of the song would be sung with that person's name in it, and they would get to go home first. My classmates loved this, but I hated it. It annoyed me because I couldn't understand what they were singing, but if I am honest, l hated it mainly because of how happy they all were. I definitely wasn't happy. I cried myself to sleep nearly every night. I eventually started having separate English lessons, which I enjoyed more because it took me out of the classroom. It was always daunting coming to school because I felt everyone was looking at me or speaking about me. For months, my dad would stand with me outside the school gates in the morning until it was time to go in.

One day I came back into the classroom from my English lesson. We sat down, and everyone was extra-excited, looking at me more than usual for some reason. Of course, I thought it was because I was a refugee, because I couldn't speak English, or because they couldn't pronounce my name. I was bracing myself for another afternoon of my classmates encouraging me to sing. This was probably the closest I came to running out. So we were all sitting on the floor around Miss Webster. She was holding her guitar, ready to sing. I remember the sun shining through the tall, narrow windows as I slowly drifted into a daydream of being back in Bosnia. She began playing the guitar, my classmates joined in, but this time, everything was different. I froze. I understood what they were signing. Not because I had miraculously learned English in one afternoon, but because they were singing in Bosnian for me. I looked around in shock, and they were all smiling at me, and for a moment I thought I was daydreaming.

While I was having separate English lessons, Miss Webster had taught our entire class to sing this song for me in Bosnian. They sang it terribly, but it was the most beautiful thing I had ever heard. I skipped home that day with a huge smile on my face. For the first time, I looked forward to going back to school the next day. I have often imagined Miss Webster and my classmates rehearsing, struggling with the strange Bosnian words and laughing at themselves. For me, that effort was the ultimate recognition, an act of peace that felt like the opposite of everything I had known during the war. It was special. I do not know if they realised it then, but that moment helped to give me back my dignity, my belonging, and, for the first time in a long time, I didn't feel like I was just a refugee or an outsider. I was home.

With alt:

I will. Thank you.

Because of their support of Israel.

Never saw this.

Yeah!!

This is th kind of interviewing we need alot more of, where the research has been done in advance and politicians are questioned on facts.
Would love to see some of the independent Ireland tds get this treatment re climate and environment.

He was great in Deadwood.

Lol. Thats his arse handed to him.

Yeah, I know but I do love Coleman and Cumbersnatch

He said an impression was being given in an “unscrupulous manner” that children died through bad action or criminal behaviour in Tuam, and that they were “deliberately buried in a septic tank”.

Eh they were found in said septic tank, how does he think they got there?? No sympathy, just contempt.