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Is this a genuine guest/member and link info

Discussion in 'Off-Topic Discussion' started by BeeHappy, Nov 1, 2017.

  1. BeeHappy

    BeeHappy Total Gardener

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    Im sorry if this is not the right place to post this - or even if im wrong to ask. But i see this guest posting under this name Its always links - so im nervous to click on it in case it's not genuine.

    Botanic Gardens
     
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    • shiney

      shiney President, Grumpy Old Men's Club Staff Member

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      Hi @BeeHappy you don't need to start a new thread if you're unsure about a post. Just click on 'Report' and say what your concern is. That way it's not aired in public, it gets noticed by admin quicker - as it gets flagged up (they may not even notice your thread :noidea:) and it can be checked out. Otherwise they don't even know what thread you're referring to. :)
       
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      • BeeHappy

        BeeHappy Total Gardener

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        @shiney thank you - I was unsure so I just put the name of the user and the link to the thread underneath the username Botanic Gardens- thats why I advised the GC members not to click on the above link :smile:
        As advised I shall report it now :blue thumb:
         
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        • shiney

          shiney President, Grumpy Old Men's Club Staff Member

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          If you think about it, you have actually put the link that you think might be dodgy into this thread. If it is dodgy it becomes a further danger to anyone who doesn't read your warning properly. :dunno:

          I would suggest that it would be better for you to edit it out of your post. :blue thumb: :)
           
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          • JWK

            JWK Gardener Staff Member

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            Hi @BeeHappy there is no need to worry about that link in the "Gardening News RSS Feeds" sub-forum.

            That forum is specifically for News Feed articles, they are automatically generated here. You are right to be suspicious though. The safest thing to do is to hover your mouse over the link and look at the URL (website address that appears) at the bottom of your browser - that should give you an indication whether it is safe or not. Obviously don't click if it looks at all dodgy. In this case the URL is "http: // www. bgci. org/news-and-events/news/1435/ " (I've put spaces in that to stop it being clickable). BCGI is Botanic Gardens Conservation International and is a pukka organisation supporting a very worthwhile cause.

            Best to always remain alert on any clickable link and if you have suspicions over a URL then try googling "BCGI" in the first instance and get to their website that way. Or what I do is google "BCGI scam" or BCGI phising" for example.

            Personally I have that sub-forum blocked so I don't see the new threads created when I look at "New Posts " - mainly because there are too many and usually of no interest to me.
             
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            • BeeHappy

              BeeHappy Total Gardener

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              • BeeHappy

                BeeHappy Total Gardener

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                LOL :dunno: I just went to edit out as suggested @shiney Sir S and its GORN!!!:huh:
                :dbgrtmb: Thanks for edit whoever you are :heehee:
                 
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                • shiney

                  shiney President, Grumpy Old Men's Club Staff Member

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                  @BeeHappy The GC Ghost Admin Strikes Again! :yikes: :heehee:
                   
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                  • shiney

                    shiney President, Grumpy Old Men's Club Staff Member

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                    Reminds me of one of the Cockney Rhymes I used to perform. :thumbsup:

                    Baby 'As Gorn Dahn The Plug'ole
                    (Baby should be pronounced 'biby')

                    A muvver was barfin' ‘er baby one night
                    The youngest of ten, and a tiny young mite
                    The muvver was poor and the baby was fin
                    Only a skellington covered in skin

                    The muvver turned round for the soap orf the rack
                    She was only a moment, but when she turned back
                    ‘er baby ‘ad gorn, and in anguish she cried
                    "Oh, where is me baby?", the angels replied

                    Yer baby ‘as gorn dahn the plug'ole
                    Yer baby ‘as gorn dahn the plug
                    The poor little fing was so skinny and fin
                    ‘e oughta been barfed in a jug

                    CHORUS:

                    Yer baby ‘as gorn dahn the plug’ole
                    Gorn dahn the plug’ole ‘as ‘e
                    Yer baby ‘as gorn dahn the plug’ole
                    Right dahn to Sarfend on Sea.

                    Yer baby is perfik'ly ‘appy
                    ‘e won't need no barfin' no more
                    ‘e's workin' ‘is way frough the sewers
                    Not lorst, just gorn before

                    CHORUS:

                    CHOOSE FROM THESE ALTERNATE VERSES or include all.

                    Yer baby ‘as gorn dahn the drainpipe
                    And the chlorine is bad for ‘is eyes
                    ‘e's ‘avin' a swim, and it's ‘ealffy for ‘im
                    ‘e needed the exercise

                    Don't worry 'baht 'im, just be 'appy
                    For I know ‘e is suff'rin' no pain
                    Yer baby ‘as gorn dahn the plug'ole
                    Let's ‘ope ‘e don't stop up the drain

                    CHORUS:

                    Yer baby is perfik'ly 'appy
                    ‘e won't need a barf any more
                    ‘e's muckin' abaht wiv the angels above
                    Not lorst but gorn before.


                    CHORUS
                     
                  • BeeHappy

                    BeeHappy Total Gardener

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                    @shiney Awww thats sad but funny if that makes sense- Bet you did it proud in your performance thou :thumbsup:
                    If I get to the SHINEYLAND event you will have to recite that on the day Sir Shiney ;)
                     
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                    • shiney

                      shiney President, Grumpy Old Men's Club Staff Member

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                      No chance! :heehee:

                      I won't be doing my "Bleedin' Sparrer" (:)) nor "Christmas Day In The Workhouse" (very sad :sad:) either.
                       
                    • BeeHappy

                      BeeHappy Total Gardener

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                      :please:

                      :heehee:
                       
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                      • shiney

                        shiney President, Grumpy Old Men's Club Staff Member

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                        We ‘ad a bleedin’ sparrer wot
                        Lived up a bleedin’ spaht
                        One day the bleedin’ rain came dahn
                        An’ washed the bleeder aht.

                        An’ as 'e layed ‘arf drahnded
                        Dahn in the bleedin’ street
                        ‘E begged that bleedin’ rainstorm
                        To bave ‘is bleedin’ feet.

                        But then the bleedin’ sun came aht
                        Dried up the bleedin’ rain
                        So that bleedin’ little sparrer
                        ‘E climbs up ‘is spaht again.

                        But, Oh! - the cruel sparrer ‘awk
                        ‘E spies ‘im in ‘is snuggery
                        ‘E sharpens up ‘is bleedin’ claws
                        An’ rips ‘im aht by thuggery.

                        Jist then a bleedin’ sportin’ type
                        Wot ‘ad a bleedin’ gun
                        ‘E spots that bleedin’ sparrer ‘awk
                        An’ blasts ‘is bleedin’ fun.

                        The moral of the story
                        Is plain to everyone...
                        That them wot’s up the bleedin’ spaht
                        Don’t get no bleedin’ fun.
                         
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                        • BeeHappy

                          BeeHappy Total Gardener

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                          • shiney

                            shiney President, Grumpy Old Men's Club Staff Member

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                            Alright then. Now for the sad one :sad: I don't usually post it until nearer Christmas but we are already in November :noidea:

                            It's very long and needs to be performed with pathos (no, not one of the three musketeers! :heehee:)

                            Christmas Day In The Workhouse
                            by George R Sims (written 140 years ago)

                            It is Christmas Day in the Workhouse, and the cold bare walls are bright
                            With garlands of green and holly, and the place is a pleasant sight:
                            For with clear-washed hands and faces in a long and hungry line
                            The paupers sit at the tables, for this is the hour they dine.

                            And the guardians and their ladies, although the wind is east,
                            Have come in their furs and wrappers, to watch their charges feast:
                            To smile and be condescending, put puddings on pauper plates,
                            To be hosts at the workhouse banquet they’ve paid for – with the rates.

                            Oh, the paupers are meek and lowly with their 'Thank'ee kindly, mum's';
                            So long as they fill their stomachs, what matters it whence it comes?
                            But one of the old men mutters, and pushes his plate aside:
                            'Great God!' he cries; 'but it chokes me! For this is the day she died.'

                            The guardians gazed in horror, the master's face went white;
                            'Did a pauper refuse his pudding?' 'Could their ears believe aright?'
                            Then the ladies clutched their husbands, thinking the man might die
                            Struck by a bolt, or something, by the outraged One on high.

                            But the pauper sat for a moment, then rose 'mid a silence grim,
                            For the others has ceased to chatter, and trembled every limb.
                            He looked at the guardian's ladies, then, eyeing their lords, he said,
                            'I eat not the food of villains whose hands are foul and red:

                            'Whose victims cry for vengeance from their dank, unhallowed graves.'
                            'He's drunk!' said the workhouse master. 'Or else he's mad, and raves.'
                            'Not drunk or mad,' cried the pauper, 'But only a hunted beast,
                            Who, torn by the hounds and mangled, declines the vulture's feast.

                            I care not a curse for the guardians, and I won't be dragged away.
                            Just let me have the fit out, it's only Christmas Day
                            That the black past comes to goad me, and prey my burning brain;
                            I'll tell you the rest in a whisper, - I swear I won't shout again.

                            'Keep your hands off me, curse you! Hear me right out to the end.
                            You come here to see how the paupers the season of Christmas spend.
                            You come here to watch us feeding, as they watch the captured beast.
                            Hear why a penniless pauper spits on your paltry feast.

                            'Do you think I will take your bounty, and let you smile and think
                            You're doing a noble action with the parish's meat and drink?
                            Where is my wife, you traitors - the poor old wife you slew?
                            Yes, by the God above us, my Nance was killed by you!

                            'Last winter my wife lay dying, starved in a filthy den;
                            I had never been to the parish, -I came to the parish then.
                            I swallowed my pride in coming, for, ere the ruin came,
                            I held up my head as a trader, and I bore a spotless name.

                            'I came to the parish, craving bread for a starving wife,
                            Bread for a woman who'd loved me through fifty years of my life;
                            And what do you think they told me, mocking my awful grief?
                            That "the House" was open to us, but they wouldn't give "out relief".

                            I slunk to the filthy alley - 'Twas a cold, raw Christmas eve -
                            And the bakers' shops were open, tempting a man to thieve;
                            But I clenched my fists together, holding my head awry,
                            So I came home empty-handed, and mournfully told her why.

                            Then I told her "the House" was open; she had heard of the ways of that,
                            For her bloodless cheeks went crimson, and up in her rags she sat,
                            Crying, "Bide the Christmas here, John, we've never had one apart;
                            I think I can bear the hunger, - the other would break my heart."

                            'All through that eve I watched her, holding her hand in mine,
                            Praying the Lord, and weeping, till my lips were salt as brine.
                            I asked her once if she hungered and as she answered "No,"
                            The moon shone in at the window, set in a wreath of snow

                            'Then the room was bathed in glory, and I saw in my darling's eyes
                            The far-away look of wonder that comes when the spirit flies;
                            And her lips were parched and parted, and her reason came and went,
                            For she raved of her home in Devon, where her happiest days were spent.

                            'And the accents, long forgotten, came back to the tongue once more,
                            For she talked like the country lassie I woo'd by the Devon shore.
                            Then she rose to her feet and trembled, and fell on the rags and moaned,
                            And, "Give me a crust - I'm famished - for the love of God!" she groaned.

                            I rushed from the room like a madman, and flew to the workhouse gate,
                            Crying "Food for a dying woman!" And came the answer, "Too late."
                            They drove me away with curses; then I fought with a dog in the street,
                            And tore from the mongrel's clutches a crust he was trying to eat.

                            'Back, through the filthy by-lanes! Back, through the trampled slush!
                            Up to the crazy garret, wrapped in an awful hush.
                            My heart sank down at the threshold, and I paused with a sudden thrill,
                            For there in the silv'ry moonlight my Nancy lay, cold and still.

                            'Up to the blackened ceiling the sunken eyes were cast -
                            I knew on those lips all bloodless my name had been the last;
                            She'd called for her absent husband - O God! had I but known! -
                            Had called in vain and in anguish, had died in that den - alone.

                            'Yes, there in a land of plenty, lay a loving woman dead,
                            Cruelly starved and murdered, for a loaf of parish bread.
                            At yonder gate, last Christmas I craved for a human life.
                            You, who would feast us paupers, What of my murdered wife!

                            'There, get ye gone to your dinners; Don't mind me in the least;
                            Think of your happy paupers eating your Christmas feast;
                            And when you recount their blessings, in your smug parochial way,
                            Say what you did for me, too, Only last Christmas Day.'
                             
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                              Last edited: Nov 6, 2017
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