On this night the Luftwaffe blitzed Manchester in an effort to put the docks out of action, they failed miserably.
What they did succeed in doing was to plant a bomb right down the tall chimney of the Cornbrook Brewery thereby utterly destroying the whole place. :eek:
The population of Manchester was outraged at the war crime, war is war but you do not bomb a brewery, ever. :mad:
Fat Herman himself was distraught when he heard the news as he was rather fond of the odd gargle, Adolf on the other hand being a teetotaller and a thoroughly miserable bastard was overjoyed and awarded the crew of the bomber the Iron Cross with Oak Leaves, Swords and Bottle Caps.
The same night a bomb also fell on Manchester Uniteds ground at Old Trafford much to the delight of the Manchester City fans.
Yours truly was born this night, thrust into a cold uncaring world which bristled with bombs, bullets, bayonets and barrage balloons.
The midwife took one look at me, smacked my father and ran screaming into the night stopping only at Prestwich mental hospital and begging to be admitted.
Despite the efforts of the Nazis over the ensuing years to kill me I survived and here I am.
The main drawback in having a birthday near to Christmas is that you never get as many prezzies, what you do get is “Here you are, this is your birthday AND Chrimble prezzie”
My Grandfather suffered from this. It wasn’t until he was married that he ever got a specific Birthday present. (My father, whose birthday is Friday, didn’t have quite the same problem, having been raised Jewish.)
Göring and Hitler actually brought you beer and medals and dropped you down a chimney in England the night you were born? That’s perversely cool, kind of like the Three Magi but evil.
Happy birthday!
Out of curiosity, do you have any memories of the war? (And how’d you drive out the Nazis before you were 5?)
Well, thats a rather unknown story of WWII, and if I may Id like to share it with you.
In the late 1944 the RAF developed a version of their Grand Slam bomb, called the Grand Stink, it was filled with **Chowders** special brew of soiled diapers. The plan was to drop a single Grand Stink in central Berlin, therefore either forcing a complete surrender of the Germans or downright kill a large percentage of the citys population and Nazi leadership.
However the matter of crimes against humanity was already being discussed in the context of the war`s aftermath, so to avoid being hoisted by their own petard the RAF cancelled the project and buried the Grand Stink in Dounreay (the whole nuclear brouhaha was only a cover up of the more insidious and dangerous waste hidden there).
What I do remember is collecting chunks of shrapnel/bomb casings from bombed sites after the war. There was this one huge house that had suffered an almost direct hit.
The upper floors had collapsed into the basement and whilst searching for bits of bombs we found the skeleton of some poor souls arm and hand with a gents watch still on it and a wedding ring.
Screaming like banshees and shitting ourselves we scarpered off to the police station to report this grisly find.
I kept the beastly hun at bay simply by wafting my poo soiled nappies at them, jebus did they run
when he heard the news as he was rather fond of the odd gargle, Adolf on the other hand being a teetotaller and a thoroughly miserable bastard was overjoyed and awarded the crew of the bomber the Iron Cross with Oak Leaves, Swords and Bottle Caps.
much to the delight of the Manchester City fans. 