- Location
- Inside my skull
Chris Rea does Thursday night drag. His drag name is Midnight Melody. He goes down a storm at the Dog and Partridge. His jokes are too bawdy to repeat here.
True Facts About Chris Rea
- Thread starter Drago
- Start date
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OP
OP
Drago
Legendary Member
- Location
- Suburban Poshshire
Chris Rea got into trouble with the local council for spray painting a goatee beard around the large pothole outside his house.
lazybloke
Considering a new username
- Location
- Leafy Surrey
Chris Rea was a competitor in another trial sport in the Paris Olympics , the very French "marathon de l'amour".
After nearly peaking too early in Rue de la Tete d'Or, he settled into a comfortable pace in Rue des Mauvais Garcons but ultimately suffered a groin strain and had to pull out. C'est la vie.
After nearly peaking too early in Rue de la Tete d'Or, he settled into a comfortable pace in Rue des Mauvais Garcons but ultimately suffered a groin strain and had to pull out. C'est la vie.
matticus
Guru
twentysix by twentyfive
Clinging on tightly
- Location
- Over the Hill
Dogtrousers
Kilometre nibbler
Chris Rea is a lovely chap.
OP
OP
Drago
Legendary Member
- Location
- Suburban Poshshire
Mother Theresa was so jealous of Chris Rea's "lovely chap" reputation she tried to have him killed as he ran the Gandhi-a-Knackerless 500, a Delhi endurance race for eunuchs.
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Dogtrousers
Kilometre nibbler
The Queen Mother disliked being called a "national treasure". She once said "Don't call me a national treasure, I'm just your common or garden mother of the monarch. Now Chris Rea, on the other hand, now there's a real national treasure. And such a lovely chap too. Pass the gin would you, there's a dear."
OP
OP
Drago
Legendary Member
- Location
- Suburban Poshshire
Cheris Rea created the labraror breed by cross-breeding a pit bull with a chihuahua.
Gwylan
Veteran
- Location
- All at sea⛵
In a small box under the bed I hope
OP
OP
Drago
Legendary Member
- Location
- Suburban Poshshire
Chris Rea is notoriously tight to the extent that he washes the dishes when he's having a bath.
twentysix by twentyfive
Clinging on tightly
- Location
- Over the Hill
Oh no Chris Rea doesn't. The bath costs to fill it so he climbs in the sink along with the dishes.
OP
OP
Drago
Legendary Member
- Location
- Suburban Poshshire
Chris Rea is a keen cyclist and wrote the Road to He'll about the fraught 6 mile ride to the studio each morning:
Cycled fast on a highway I saw a woman by the side of the road
With a face that I knew like my own, reflected in my bar end mirrors
Well, she walked up to my crossbar and she bent down real slow
A fearful puncture paralysed me in my shadows
She said: Son, what are you riding here?
My fear for you has turned me in my grave
I said: Mama, I come to the valley of the rich, on my Grifter
She said: Son, this is the road to hell
On your journey 'cross town from the cafe to the library
You have strayed upon the motorway to hell
Well, the old bill are on their way
To Taser you in the scrotum
Then I'm underneath the streetlights, but the light of joy I know
Scared beyond belief pedalling down the hard shoulder
And the perverted fear of violence chokes me like a kinky Tory MP
And common sense is ringing out my bell
This ain't no technological breakdown, oh no, this is the road to hell
And all the roads jam up with potholes and there's nothing you can do
It's all just bits of your teeth flying away from you
Look out world, take a good look at my flat tyre
You must learn this lesson fast and learn it well
This ain't no lightweight carbon fibre crotch rocket
Oh no, this is the bike, this is the bike, this is the bike from Hell.
Cycled fast on a highway I saw a woman by the side of the road
With a face that I knew like my own, reflected in my bar end mirrors
Well, she walked up to my crossbar and she bent down real slow
A fearful puncture paralysed me in my shadows
She said: Son, what are you riding here?
My fear for you has turned me in my grave
I said: Mama, I come to the valley of the rich, on my Grifter
She said: Son, this is the road to hell
On your journey 'cross town from the cafe to the library
You have strayed upon the motorway to hell
Well, the old bill are on their way
To Taser you in the scrotum
Then I'm underneath the streetlights, but the light of joy I know
Scared beyond belief pedalling down the hard shoulder
And the perverted fear of violence chokes me like a kinky Tory MP
And common sense is ringing out my bell
This ain't no technological breakdown, oh no, this is the road to hell
And all the roads jam up with potholes and there's nothing you can do
It's all just bits of your teeth flying away from you
Look out world, take a good look at my flat tyre
You must learn this lesson fast and learn it well
This ain't no lightweight carbon fibre crotch rocket
Oh no, this is the bike, this is the bike, this is the bike from Hell.
