Jill Franks

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Come on, are people really so flaky they would be upset if they were compared to Iggy Pop??? Or anyone else for that matter. In my life I have been called many things and so bloody what. Someone once said I looked like a warthog (do i?). I laughed for a week about that one. It was the mad hair and protruding fangs that did it I suppose.

OK, some people are sensitive and we should all be nice but life's not like that.
I'm saying nothing......... 🤭


Racism was indeed rife in the 1960s.

I think it depended where you lived. In a lot of inner cities - particularly London yes it was prevalent. I remember seeing signs in B & Bs saying No Blacks, Irish or dogs.

In rural areas and on the coast where I lived, racism was something not known about much or even mentioned. Rather like drug taking, drugs ie Heroin was something that was associated with down and outs in the doorways of London, or like pop groups and LSD. We were pretty sheltered from 'life' out in the sticks.
 
Come on, are people really so flaky they would be upset if they were compared to Iggy Pop??? Or anyone else for that matter. In my life I have been called many things and so bloody what. Someone once said I looked like a warthog (do i?). I laughed for a week about that one. It was the mad hair and protruding fangs that did it I suppose.

OK, some people are sensitive and we should all be nice but life's not like that.
Totally agree. Personally I think that JF is an awful presenter and gives me the ick.
 
I think she has worsened over the years - or I've become less tolerant. She dribbles on whilst the BA is trying to do her job, and she milks for all its worth anything she thinks is funny. Her hair has always been a thin and lanky disaster, and her dress sense is rubbish.

There. That's me done.
 
I think she has worsened over the years - or I've become less tolerant. She dribbles on whilst the BA is trying to do her job, and she milks for all its worth anything she thinks is funny. Her hair has always been a thin and lanky disaster, and her dress sense is rubbish.

There. That's me done.
Brissles sits on the fence again.
 

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