Having read a bit more here and there about people saying they prefer the old IPB board etc.
I'm wondering, those of you who don't like this board........what is it about it you don't like?
Jonno
curiousity killed the cat
Well, Im here for the members.
We still have a few interesting personas here.
For the board software, it's not big deal for me.
I think a bigger issue would be "how to lure Admins to do something"
All tho IKE is doing a lot here but he dont have all the access etc.
Thanks IKE.
Plus, we've come a long way from when we got the VB soft.
I thinka board is sort of a living thing, things change as we go.
Spoiler: Show
I suppose it's ok.
Just miffed we didn't loose you in the move.
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Last edited by Alien5; Today at 12:51
Rumour has it you're a bit of a pussy thoughOriginally Posted by Jon L. Obscene
@lilmiss.........I will be looking for my smacky hammer for that comment :crying:
@Afro.... Yup, you just about summed it up
How do you mean Ike does'nt have full access? You mean he does'nt have access to the fp to change permissions etc? therefore limiting him to what he can do concerning permission changes etc?
@Dan...... If the milk turns out to be sour.....I ain't the kind of pussy to drink it....nah what I mean?
Jonno
Originally Posted by Jon L. Obscene
I'm not scared of you....pussy.
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Last edited by Alien5; Today at 12:51
A few nights ago Rory's Roger iron rusted, so he has gone to theOriginally Posted by Jon L. Obscene
battle-cruiser to watch the end of a football game. Nobody is watching
the custard so he has turned the channel over. A fat man's north opens
and he wanders up and turns the Liza over. `Now fuck off and watch it
somewhere else.' Rory knows claret is imminent, but he doesn't want to
miss the end of the game; so, calm as a coma, he stands and picks up a
fire extinguisher and he walks straight past the jam rolls who are
ready for action, then he plonks it outside the entrance. He then
orders an Aristotle of the most ping pong oddly in the nuclear sub and
switches back to his footer. `That's fucking it,' says the man. Rory
gobs out a mouthful of booze covering fatty; he flicks a flaming match
into his bird's nest and the man lit up like a leaking gas pipe. Rory,
unfazed, turned back to watch his game. The flaming man and his chinos
ran outside to extinguish the flames, and Rory cheered on. His team won
too, four-nil.
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