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alexandriao


nigel had his future in a british steel........

But british steel went bankrupt and all the workers were made redundant...

Where is nigel working now? What new plans were made for him???!?!?!?!

I hope nigel is ok and happy :ohdear:

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alexandriao


maybe he got super into model trains and so this is a good pic if nigel

Too much is always not enough!

(Thanks to tvsveryown for the spring sig!)


alexandriao


we made plans for nigel to become a manager at Woolworths but then that went bankrupt too... you know, maybe nigel is the guy making all these companies implode...

Too much is always not enough!

(Thanks to tvsveryown for the spring sig!)


DiscoWitch

uwu
Last I heard he was working at Debenhams.

Wait... oh no Nigel! :ohdear:

alexandriao


DiscoWitch posted:

Last I heard he was working at Debenhams.

Wait... oh no Nigel! :ohdear:

The best laid plans of Nigel and men...

Too much is always not enough!

(Thanks to tvsveryown for the spring sig!)


BoldFrankensteinMir


Nigel isn't outspoken but he likes to speak, and he likes to be spoken to.


Sig by Heather Papps

Buttchocks

No, I like my hat, thanks.
Nigel gets a folk trio together and writes The Ballad of Nigel which doesn't chart in the UK, but is a viral meme in Brazil

Dr. Honked

eat it you slaaaaaaag
i misread the memo and i've been making planks for him



thanks deep dish pete moss and Plant MONSTER

Viginti Septem

Oculus Noctuae
Nigel: Aren't you pleased to see me, father?

Mum: (squeezing his arm reassuringly) Of course he's pleased to see you, Nigel, he...

Dad: All right, woman, all right I've got a tongue in my head - I'll do 'talkin'. (looks at Nigel distastefully) Aye... I like yer fancy suit. Is that what they're wearing up in Yorkshire now?

Nigel: It's just an ordinary suit, father. It's all I've got apart from the overalls.

(Dad turns away with an expression of scornful disgust.)

Mum: How are you liking it down the mine, Nigel?

Nigel: Oh it's not too bad mum, we're using some new tungsten carbide drills for the preliminary coal-face scouring operations.

Mum: Oh that sounds nice, dear...

Dad: Tungsten carbide drills! What the bloody hell's tungsten carbide drills?

Nigel: It's something they use in coal-mining, father.

Dad: (mimicking) 'It's something they use in coal-mining, father'. You're all bloody fancy talk since you left London.

Nigel: Oh not that again.

Mum: He's had a hard day dear, his new play opens at the National Theatre tomorrow.

Nigel: Oh that's good.

Dad: Good! Good? What do you know about it? What do you know about getting up at five o'clock in t'morning to fly to Paris, back at the Old Vic for drinks at twelve, sweating the day through press interviews, television interviews and getting back here at ten to wrestle with the problem of a homosexual nymphomaniac drug-addict involved in the ritual murder of a well known Scottish footballer. That's a full working day, lad, and don't you forget it!

Mum: Oh, don't shout at the boy, father.

Dad: Aye, 'ampstead wasn't good enough for you, was it? You had to go poncing off to Barnsley, you and yer coal-mining friends. (spits)

Nigel: Coal-mining is a wonderful thing father, but it's something you'll never understand. Just look at you!

Mum: Oh Nigel! Be careful! You know what he's like after a few novels.

Dad: Oh come on lad! Come on, out wi' it! What's wrong wi' me? You tit!

Nigel: I'll tell you what's wrong with you. Your head's addled with novels and poems, you come home every evening reeling of Chateau La Tour...

Mum: Oh don't, don't.

Nigel: And look what you've done to mother! She's worn out with meeting film stars, attending premieres and giving gala luncheons.

Dad: There's nowt wrong wi' gala luncheons, lad! I've had more gala luncheons than you've had hot dinners!

Mum: Oh please!

Dad: Aaaaaaagh! (clutches hands and sinks to knees)

Mum: Oh no!

Nigel: What is it?

Mum: Oh, it's his writer's cramp!

Nigel: You never told me about this.

Mum: No, we didn't like to, Nigelny.

Dad: I'm all right! I'm all right, woman. Just get him out of here.

Mum: Oh Nigel! You'd better go.

Nigel: All right. I'm going.

Dad: After all we've done for him...

Nigel: (at the door) One day you'll realize there's more to life than culture. There's dirt, and smoke, and good honest sweat!

Dad: Get out! Get out! Get OUT! You... LABOURER!

(Nigel goes. Shocked silence. Dad goes to table and takes the cover off the typewriter.)

Dad: Hey, you know, mother, I think there's a play there. Get t'agent on t'phone.

Mum: Aye I think you're right, Frank, it could express, it could express a vital theme of our age.

Dad: Aye.

https://i.imgur.com/9jTkSUL.mp4
Thanks to vanisher for the paradise sig! :)

Kaiser Schnitzel

Schnitzel mit uns


Viginti Septem posted:

Nigel: Aren't you pleased to see me, father?

Mum: (squeezing his arm reassuringly) Of course he's pleased to see you, Nigel, he...

Dad: All right, woman, all right I've got a tongue in my head - I'll do 'talkin'. (looks at Nigel distastefully) Aye... I like yer fancy suit. Is that what they're wearing up in Yorkshire now?

Nigel: It's just an ordinary suit, father. It's all I've got apart from the overalls.

(Dad turns away with an expression of scornful disgust.)

Mum: How are you liking it down the mine, Nigel?

Nigel: Oh it's not too bad mum, we're using some new tungsten carbide drills for the preliminary coal-face scouring operations.

Mum: Oh that sounds nice, dear...

Dad: Tungsten carbide drills! What the bloody hell's tungsten carbide drills?

Nigel: It's something they use in coal-mining, father.

Dad: (mimicking) 'It's something they use in coal-mining, father'. You're all bloody fancy talk since you left London.

Nigel: Oh not that again.

Mum: He's had a hard day dear, his new play opens at the National Theatre tomorrow.

Nigel: Oh that's good.

Dad: Good! Good? What do you know about it? What do you know about getting up at five o'clock in t'morning to fly to Paris, back at the Old Vic for drinks at twelve, sweating the day through press interviews, television interviews and getting back here at ten to wrestle with the problem of a homosexual nymphomaniac drug-addict involved in the ritual murder of a well known Scottish footballer. That's a full working day, lad, and don't you forget it!

Mum: Oh, don't shout at the boy, father.

Dad: Aye, 'ampstead wasn't good enough for you, was it? You had to go poncing off to Barnsley, you and yer coal-mining friends. (spits)

Nigel: Coal-mining is a wonderful thing father, but it's something you'll never understand. Just look at you!

Mum: Oh Nigel! Be careful! You know what he's like after a few novels.

Dad: Oh come on lad! Come on, out wi' it! What's wrong wi' me? You tit!

Nigel: I'll tell you what's wrong with you. Your head's addled with novels and poems, you come home every evening reeling of Chateau La Tour...

Mum: Oh don't, don't.

Nigel: And look what you've done to mother! She's worn out with meeting film stars, attending premieres and giving gala luncheons.

Dad: There's nowt wrong wi' gala luncheons, lad! I've had more gala luncheons than you've had hot dinners!

Mum: Oh please!

Dad: Aaaaaaagh! (clutches hands and sinks to knees)

Mum: Oh no!

Nigel: What is it?

Mum: Oh, it's his writer's cramp!

Nigel: You never told me about this.

Mum: No, we didn't like to, Nigelny.

Dad: I'm all right! I'm all right, woman. Just get him out of here.

Mum: Oh Nigel! You'd better go.

Nigel: All right. I'm going.

Dad: After all we've done for him...

Nigel: (at the door) One day you'll realize there's more to life than culture. There's dirt, and smoke, and good honest sweat!

Dad: Get out! Get out! Get OUT! You... LABOURER!

(Nigel goes. Shocked silence. Dad goes to table and takes the cover off the typewriter.)

Dad: Hey, you know, mother, I think there's a play there. Get t'agent on t'phone.

Mum: Aye I think you're right, Frank, it could express, it could express a vital theme of our age.

Dad: Aye.


https://i.imgur.com/R8ctked.mp4
ty Manifisto for this wonderful sig!


biosterous




Viginti Septem posted:

Nigel: Aren't you pleased to see me, father?

Mum: (squeezing his arm reassuringly) Of course he's pleased to see you, Nigel, he...

Dad: All right, woman, all right I've got a tongue in my head - I'll do 'talkin'. (looks at Nigel distastefully) Aye... I like yer fancy suit. Is that what they're wearing up in Yorkshire now?

Nigel: It's just an ordinary suit, father. It's all I've got apart from the overalls.

(Dad turns away with an expression of scornful disgust.)

Mum: How are you liking it down the mine, Nigel?

Nigel: Oh it's not too bad mum, we're using some new tungsten carbide drills for the preliminary coal-face scouring operations.

Mum: Oh that sounds nice, dear...

Dad: Tungsten carbide drills! What the bloody hell's tungsten carbide drills?

Nigel: It's something they use in coal-mining, father.

Dad: (mimicking) 'It's something they use in coal-mining, father'. You're all bloody fancy talk since you left London.

Nigel: Oh not that again.

Mum: He's had a hard day dear, his new play opens at the National Theatre tomorrow.

Nigel: Oh that's good.

Dad: Good! Good? What do you know about it? What do you know about getting up at five o'clock in t'morning to fly to Paris, back at the Old Vic for drinks at twelve, sweating the day through press interviews, television interviews and getting back here at ten to wrestle with the problem of a homosexual nymphomaniac drug-addict involved in the ritual murder of a well known Scottish footballer. That's a full working day, lad, and don't you forget it!

Mum: Oh, don't shout at the boy, father.

Dad: Aye, 'ampstead wasn't good enough for you, was it? You had to go poncing off to Barnsley, you and yer coal-mining friends. (spits)

Nigel: Coal-mining is a wonderful thing father, but it's something you'll never understand. Just look at you!

Mum: Oh Nigel! Be careful! You know what he's like after a few novels.

Dad: Oh come on lad! Come on, out wi' it! What's wrong wi' me? You tit!

Nigel: I'll tell you what's wrong with you. Your head's addled with novels and poems, you come home every evening reeling of Chateau La Tour...

Mum: Oh don't, don't.

Nigel: And look what you've done to mother! She's worn out with meeting film stars, attending premieres and giving gala luncheons.

Dad: There's nowt wrong wi' gala luncheons, lad! I've had more gala luncheons than you've had hot dinners!

Mum: Oh please!

Dad: Aaaaaaagh! (clutches hands and sinks to knees)

Mum: Oh no!

Nigel: What is it?

Mum: Oh, it's his writer's cramp!

Nigel: You never told me about this.

Mum: No, we didn't like to, Nigelny.

Dad: I'm all right! I'm all right, woman. Just get him out of here.

Mum: Oh Nigel! You'd better go.

Nigel: All right. I'm going.

Dad: After all we've done for him...

Nigel: (at the door) One day you'll realize there's more to life than culture. There's dirt, and smoke, and good honest sweat!

Dad: Get out! Get out! Get OUT! You... LABOURER!

(Nigel goes. Shocked silence. Dad goes to table and takes the cover off the typewriter.)

Dad: Hey, you know, mother, I think there's a play there. Get t'agent on t'phone.

Mum: Aye I think you're right, Frank, it could express, it could express a vital theme of our age.

Dad: Aye.



thank you saoshyant for this sig!!!
gallery of sigs


he/him

alexandriao


Viginti Septem posted:

Mum: Oh Nigel! Be careful! You know what he's like after a few novels.

Viginti Septem

Oculus Noctuae
That's old monty python, not my oc

free hubcaps

Viginti Septem posted:

Nigel: Aren't you pleased to see me, father?

Mum: (squeezing his arm reassuringly) Of course he's pleased to see you, Nigel, he...

Dad: All right, woman, all right I've got a tongue in my head - I'll do 'talkin'. (looks at Nigel distastefully) Aye... I like yer fancy suit. Is that what they're wearing up in Yorkshire now?

Nigel: It's just an ordinary suit, father. It's all I've got apart from the overalls.

(Dad turns away with an expression of scornful disgust.)

Mum: How are you liking it down the mine, Nigel?

Nigel: Oh it's not too bad mum, we're using some new tungsten carbide drills for the preliminary coal-face scouring operations.

Mum: Oh that sounds nice, dear...

Dad: Tungsten carbide drills! What the bloody hell's tungsten carbide drills?

Nigel: It's something they use in coal-mining, father.

Dad: (mimicking) 'It's something they use in coal-mining, father'. You're all bloody fancy talk since you left London.

Nigel: Oh not that again.

Mum: He's had a hard day dear, his new play opens at the National Theatre tomorrow.

Nigel: Oh that's good.

Dad: Good! Good? What do you know about it? What do you know about getting up at five o'clock in t'morning to fly to Paris, back at the Old Vic for drinks at twelve, sweating the day through press interviews, television interviews and getting back here at ten to wrestle with the problem of a homosexual nymphomaniac drug-addict involved in the ritual murder of a well known Scottish footballer. That's a full working day, lad, and don't you forget it!

Mum: Oh, don't shout at the boy, father.

Dad: Aye, 'ampstead wasn't good enough for you, was it? You had to go poncing off to Barnsley, you and yer coal-mining friends. (spits)

Nigel: Coal-mining is a wonderful thing father, but it's something you'll never understand. Just look at you!

Mum: Oh Nigel! Be careful! You know what he's like after a few novels.

Dad: Oh come on lad! Come on, out wi' it! What's wrong wi' me? You tit!

Nigel: I'll tell you what's wrong with you. Your head's addled with novels and poems, you come home every evening reeling of Chateau La Tour...

Mum: Oh don't, don't.

Nigel: And look what you've done to mother! She's worn out with meeting film stars, attending premieres and giving gala luncheons.

Dad: There's nowt wrong wi' gala luncheons, lad! I've had more gala luncheons than you've had hot dinners!

Mum: Oh please!

Dad: Aaaaaaagh! (clutches hands and sinks to knees)

Mum: Oh no!

Nigel: What is it?

Mum: Oh, it's his writer's cramp!

Nigel: You never told me about this.

Mum: No, we didn't like to, Nigelny.

Dad: I'm all right! I'm all right, woman. Just get him out of here.

Mum: Oh Nigel! You'd better go.

Nigel: All right. I'm going.

Dad: After all we've done for him...

Nigel: (at the door) One day you'll realize there's more to life than culture. There's dirt, and smoke, and good honest sweat!

Dad: Get out! Get out! Get OUT! You... LABOURER!

(Nigel goes. Shocked silence. Dad goes to table and takes the cover off the typewriter.)

Dad: Hey, you know, mother, I think there's a play there. Get t'agent on t'phone.

Mum: Aye I think you're right, Frank, it could express, it could express a vital theme of our age.

Dad: Aye.

Lol. One of the best python skits that no one remembers.




Also XTC rules

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fzaEsLgF3NQ


ty Saoshyant!

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BoldFrankensteinMir


free hubcaps posted:

Also XTC rules

Seconded. Back when used CD stores were a thing I pieced together a collection of all 14 studio albums and a good number of the singles out of every shop I could find in Denver, it took years.

I also highly recommend Andy Partridge's 9-part Fuzzy Warbles series, it's all demos and other rarities including the entire unused soundtrack he wrote for the James and the Giant Peach movie:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OjSG0CE7w6g


Sig by Heather Papps

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