HAPPY CANDLEDAY SCARYDUCK
xxxxxxx
( drimble he'd been white, he'd been black, Tue 1 Apr 2014, 8:40, 1 reply)

there ain't no party like a county court party
as you may know or can imagine, there is a whole myriad of rules about court proceedings. 99% of the time you stick to them, but sometimes clients just can't, or they get information at the last minute or something. well, some court officials take a practical view, and get the job done in the parties' best interests. and some... don't.

this particular case involved a standard directions hearing. i'd done everything i could, including sending draft directions to the other side some 3 weeks before the hearing. however, they were rather slow to respond. finally, we got it agreed with 1 week to go. the court clerk flatly refused to vacate the hearing, and he flatly and utterly refused to let us have a telephone hearing. because we were only 7 days before the hearing, not "no less than" 7 days before the hearing.

how can it possibly have been in the best interest of both parties to have to pay for a hearing, for something they had already agreed? anyway, he insisted, so we had no choice.

and on the day, i stood up to start the pleadings. the judge scowled at me and held up a commanding hand to stop me in my tracks. he boomed, "miss swipe. can you start by explaining why are you here? this should have been agreed weeks ago."

i pointed out as politely as you can that it WAS agreed. so he scowled at the signed draft order for a bit, and then said, "then explain to me, why aren't we doing this by way of telephone hearing?"

ffs. i felt like making the clerk eat a copy of the transcript.
( rachelswipe with a fork, Tue 1 Apr 2014, 8:29, 5 replies)

Haha. You forgot to put your bins out.

( Dr. Shambolic je suis charlie, Tue 1 Apr 2014, 8:27, 5 replies)

It's not so well known that in Ireland, as well as in England people were named after their trade.
Instead of Smith or Baker they would be called O'Horseshoe or O'Breadbun etc.
My uncle Alan was a trawlerman out of Cork and a bit of a ventriloquist to boot. He would regale the crew with voice projection to parts of his body such as making his toes squeak like the five little piggies.
But his best routine by far was Paddy O'Fish Al's talking bollocks.
( edjogs Collared doves are shit., Mon 31 Mar 2014, 22:28, 1 reply)

It's official
Albert Marshmallow is petty enough to have put me on 2.0.
(dozers, do fuck off ur a nob m8, Mon 31 Mar 2014, 18:03, 8 replies)

Wankers that are "Enviromental Wardens" aka thundercunts
There is no lower piece of scum. Especially when they are lying bastards. I have no problems with any kind of warden, if I have genuinely done something wrong and they fine me for it, fair play. However, the one cunt I dealt with was such a lying bulling piece of shit I could have fucking opened him up.

So standing in the alley way next to my office which is a kind of cut through, now we don't have an ashtray or anything like that so we used to either stub the fags out and bring them in and put them in the bin or on the odd occasion we would stick them in a crack in the wall.

So me and my colleague are out having a fag and I see the fag man, sorry litter warden, walk past the end of the alley way. Now this bloke is the kind of guy you can tell thinks he is the dogs fucking bollocks in his black get up, stab proof vest and cctv camera on his chest. Total and utter wank sock. Probably still lives with his mum and his collection of samurai swords after being rejected from the army, police and lidl security jobs.

So I finish and pushed my fag into the crack of the wall after carefully checking I'm not in his line of site even though I'm not dropping it on the floor. So I nip over to the shop and as I come out he stops me and tells me he needs to talk to me about environmental law etc, so initially I didn't even click until he asked for my details, I asked why and he said because I am issuing you with a fixed penalty notice for dropping a cigarette butt, warns me I'm on his homo cctv etc. Now hold up a minute there you wanksock of a storm trooper I did not drop any fag but on the floor. A few rounds of oh no he didn't, oh yes he did ensue and eventually I did the stupid thing and said no I didn't fucking drop it I put it in a crack on the wall! "Well that's not a bin is it sir?" well fair point you fucktard but its not a public footpath either. Then he says he saw it fall from the wall and end up on the ground, ahh changing your story now eh? I see well no fuck off I didn't I'm not giving you shit. So at this point he says if I don't he will come into my office (he knows where I work) and he will do my co-worker for the same offense. Now I didn't want her to get in any shit either so I reluctantly start reeling off my details. Well the other thing is there was no physical way you could have seen me do it because trust me I thoroughly checked you weren't fucking looking you wobbling blob of jizz! Show me some evidence I ask, "Don't have to, I saw you do it!" No but you clearly fucking didn't you most likely saw me come out of said alley way sans fag butt and have gone on an assumption I have discarded it, yes but technically I discarded it on private property so fuck the system.

"Have you got any ID sir?" Not for you sonny jim me thinks (I was giving genuine details and the law states they have no right to ask you to provide ID it is only an offense not to give details or give them false details), so no sir I don't. Well if you don't show me some I'll just call the old bill, my old man is ex flying squad, this threat does not worry me in the slightest although he has now kept me out of work for 20 mins and I didn't have time to be hanging around to wait for the old bill so reluctantly I provide him with ID.

Thank you very much £80 fine

tl:dr bullied by a meat head into an £80 fine.
(bumless The man with the hole in the middle, Mon 31 Mar 2014, 18:02, 32 replies)

Don't forget to put your bins out.

( Dr. Shambolic je suis charlie, Mon 31 Mar 2014, 15:47, 22 replies)

Frenulum
Base unit must have detached centre-line pointing towards bracket.
Once activated, dismantle and re-attach. Break for lunch shall we? I admire you and
Insist we embark on a family holiday with swearing.

Let me drive the twat. Don't call my car a twat. Please do not refer to it at all.
(Andrew Avetoom, Mon 31 Mar 2014, 14:32, 26 replies)

Courtesy of my brother...
Every year, there's a big military exercise in the Nevada desert. My brother, who's in the air force, was employed for however long it was flying around in a Herc so that people could throw themselves out of it.

He'd flown out on an RAF transport into a USAF base, but was coming back on a civvy flight. Somehow, when he arrived, he'd managed not to get his passport stamped - well, I guess you don't get too many illegals coming in that way. Still, it meant that he had no point-of-entry for the security people to check when he came to leave from LAX. And, of course, they challenged him about this. For them, it was A SERIOUS MATTER.

My brother tried to explain what must have happened, but the security bloke was not budging. My brother had a stroke of genius.
"Does this mean that I'm going to be deported?"
Indeed it might well mean that. My brother looked into the middle distance for a moment, and then suggested that the best solution would be to allow him to deport himself on the aeroplane for which he had a ticket already.

He's in Guantanamo now.
( Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Mon 31 Mar 2014, 12:10, 5 replies)

Hazardous Waste (of time)
I rented out an old Victorian terrace house. It was full of nice old features - picture rails, high ceilings, plaster mouldings etc., and a beautiful deep original staircase to the upstairs rooms.

The tenants after not paying rent for a bit, and generally wrecking the place, decided to get awkward when issued with 'go away' papers, and called in the council, who promptly decreed the house was unfit for human habitation, a category 1 health hazard (or some such wording) because.... wait for it....

The balusters on the very nice staircase were over 7 inches apart!

A council official visited, made a report, and sent a stern letter instructing me to rectify this life threatening danger within so many days, or the terrible tenants could instruct the council to fix it, and they'd send me the bill!

I am unsure how having slightly smaller gaps in the baluster would offer much protection to hurling yourself down a flight of stairs, or why the tenants didn't put a baby gate up to stop unattended sprats launching themselves through a 8" gap. I bed the National Trust don't get this kind of bother!
(jairzinhor, Mon 31 Mar 2014, 10:29, 18 replies)

the queue to get through security at miami airport is very long and very VERY tedious
my friends and i were shattered after a week of going out too much, and it was an overnight flight. but we stood there patiently and complied. finally, we got through the scanners. as i went to put my passport back in its wallet, i noticed that my driving licence had fallen out.

i turned around. it was clearly visible on the floor, just about 10 cm on the wrong side of the scanner, and about 5m behind me. you can probably see where this is going, but i was blissfully oblivious. i smiled at the female gorilla - who had enjoyed frisking everyone a little bit too much in the anal regions for my personal tastes - and turned around to pick it up.

"what are you doing?" she barked.

"i just - my driving licence, look."

"yeah, i saw you drop it." well thanks for telling me, sweetcheeks.

"right, so can i-"

"NO. you have to queue up again."

for something that she had seen me drop about 30 seconds previously, that was a couple of paces behind me? what the actual fuck? i would have understood it if i had reappeared minutes later or hadn't been in sight the whole time, but she was clearly just doing this to be a cunt.

fortunately i was too tired to articulate what i was thinking, so i just mouthed at her like a goldfish. and even more fortunately the nice man at the front of the queue let me jump back in right in front of him, but i'd have had to miss the plane or pay for a new driving licence if he hadn't. stupid powermad bitch.
( rachelswipe with a fork, Mon 31 Mar 2014, 9:59, 17 replies)

Of speed cameras and petty po-lice.
So there I was, sleeping, as I tend to do at half past two on weekdays. Suddenly, Beeper! Hazmat!
Off I rush to the fire station, and once there I am told to "Get Peter, he's at work." Said Peter works for the company who's truck was involved, so it was assumed that he had some sort of helpful info. Off I went in our nice Golf GTD (Protip to fire departments: Car dealerships can be thankful), blasting down the Autobahn at 230kph. There was some construction, with the normal three lanes reduced to two, but I'd driven through there only hours ago and nobody was on the road, so I kept my speed up. It was actually quite fun, since our Fire law says (in part, and paraphrased) "Anything that furthers the legal duties of a fireman is legal".

I was almost through the construction when it happened. Red flash. "Yup, speed trap," thought I. "No worries, got me flashers on."

Everything went well on the call, we finished up at about daybreak. I came home exhausted, only to find a cop car in my driveway. The two cops got out, and presented me with a picture I recognized: A blaze-orange Golf GTD, with "Feuerwehr" written back-to-front on the hood. Complete with air horns and light bar. There was a man in the driver's seat, and he was wearing a yellow-black-reflective stripes outfit.

"We're taking you down to the station," they said.
"We called the fire department, they said it was you driving, and you certainly look like the guy in the picture," they said.
"220 in an 80? You'll never drive again," they said.

"Fuck off. I had my lights on, you can even see it in your stupid picture," quoth I, and went inside for coffee.
(GermanGuy invaded on, Mon 31 Mar 2014, 4:22, 16 replies)

Traffic Jam
A few weeks ago there was a pretty major crash at Switch Island Liverpool and I ended up in the resulting gridlock. Been Sat in my car, handbrake on and ignition off having not moved for around 20 mins. Think it might be an idea to give work a quick call to let them know I'd be late. At this point a Community Support Officer on a pushbike spots me, knocks on the window and tells me I can be done for using a phone while driving. Bluetooth handsfree was off because ignition was off and I thought the definition of driving was engine running and car moving???
(Outrun Is it the weekend yet?, Sun 30 Mar 2014, 14:39, 18 replies)

New manager at work. First team meeting.
She introduced the new continuous improvement plan for staff (which didn't coincide with continuously rising pay)
Telling us all about the new "key performance indicators" (this for a support worker in a care home) she said there were four levels of achievement:
Does not currently achieve standards
Achieves standards
Exceeds Expectations and (eurgh)
Top Talent.

She went on to say that as we are clearly all intelligent, she expected us all to get "exceeds expectations"
I pointed out that it was now by definition impossible for us to exceed her expectations.
She clarified and said "yes, but it just means that this is the level I expect you to be working at"
I asked whether it was acceptable for me to simply "achieve standards", since I did meet standards, didn't have any ambitions to progress, and wasnt motivated to to beyond.
"no. We expect you to continuously improve"
"does my job description change every three months?"
"no"
"am I doing my job acceptably?"
"we're going to leave it there. I want people to exceed expectations, and you'll need to evidence (eurgh) that you have"
(clinteastwoodbradfield, Sun 30 Mar 2014, 11:06, 17 replies)

I once had to get a clearance at Scotland Yard, as my work involved some sensitive shit (though in all fairness I never really saw anything that you couldn't have got off the internet)
My plan was to ride my bike there after lunch, then take the afternoon off around St James's Park as work wouldn't know how long it should take. However when I chained my bike up to rail outside it on the street an officer came approached and told me I couldn't leave it there. I said "I don't see any signs" and we argued briefly but he looked a serious individual so I moved it down a little and leaned it up against some bollards and chained the wheel to the frame. He approached again and this time other officers came out. Apparently this position was also disallowed and he wanted to talk to me inside. They made me wait for ages in their office, and took and photocopied all my id which i'd brought along for the clearance, just in case I turned out to be a terrorist with an exploding 10 speed then they'd know how to find me. They were just fucking with me for being difficult, the pricks, and by the time I left I was home late.
( cumquat may will not be commenting further on the allegations, Sun 30 Mar 2014, 10:04, Reply)

I arrived in the USA.
I'd just got off a flight from Tokyo Narita. It was 4am. I was, by dint of being in business class and not being a lazy arse, the first person through the arrivals area and into the immigration zone.

So I turn up at a desk manned by the largest black man I have ever seen. If he stood up, he'd probably have been about five foot eight, but he weighed, at a minumum, thirty stone. His uniform shirt was doing that thing where there are gaps between the buttons because the material is under such strain. I walked smartly up to his desk, put my briefcase on the floor, and waited a moment. He completely ignored me.

Nonplussed by this display of colonial ignorance, I tried to be helpful. I looked around, and noticed a large sign below his desk which explained, in big, red letters that I should (a) stand more or less where I was standing, (b) put my passport on the desk, (c) place my index finger on the little glass pad and (d) look into the camera to the left. So I did all these things.

King Kong now deigned to notice me. "What are you doing?" he inquired. This seemed such a spectacularly obtuse question that I was momentarily confused. There's a massive sign in front of me telling me what to do, in excruciating detail. You presumably spend your entire working day instructing people to do what it says on the sign. And here I am, the only other person for forty metres, doing exactly what it says on the sign. How is this confusing for you?

Eventually I managed to stutter out the word "Well, the sign says..." when the gorilla before me rudely interrupted to inform me "DON'T DO ANYTHING UNTIL I TELL YOU."

Wow. Welcome to the USA.

So many things ran through my mind, but this fuckwit clearly had a tiny, tiny amount of power and was on a hair trigger to use ALL of it at the slightest provocation, so I just smiled and complied.

Fuck America.
(SonofRojBlake, Sun 30 Mar 2014, 8:39, 11 replies)

These tales of American Petty Officials seem the norm.
I'm currently working in Afghanistan, and the American imposed rules are usually pretty petty. I was in the PX (a shop about the size of a Tesco express but more military themed and diverse in products) and a woman who worked there stopped me.
her: "Sir, I'd like you to leave."
me: "why?"
her: "because you're wearing shorts"
me: "but I'm in uniform"
her: "that's not the point sir, they're still shorts and still prohibited."
me: "so exactly what sort of freedom has been brought to this patch of desert if you can't wear shorts in it? What sort of freedom have American lives been sacrificed for?"
her: "do you need me to call the MP's?"
me: "yes please, someone's stopping me from doing my shopping in peace!"

She walked off and I hurried up. The MP's we're just coming into the car park, lights and sirens going as I was just leaving.

They've put a sign up since. This applies to civilians, military and of course, the locals - who have worn sandals for centuries.

(sunray18, Sun 30 Mar 2014, 5:10, 12 replies)

Rural gatekeeper
Years ago, as part of a desire to visit the highest points of as many of the 50 American states as possible, we decided to climb the highest point in Oklahoma. Now, almost all of Oklahoma is flatter than a billiard table, but at the arid heart of the Dust Bowl, at the far western tip of the state's panhandle, exists a mesa where surveyors had built a small monument commemorating the state's pinnacle. In order to reach that point, however, one has to cross a strip of privately-held land. Ordinarily, we would have just skipped through the strip, but a strategically-located ranch house guarded access, so out of prudence we decided to stop and ask permission.

We banged on the front door for awhile with no response. Just then, an 18-year-old girl answered the door. She had just climbed out of a shower, and was clad in just a white bathrobe and was wearing an enormous white turban. She looked rather mystical, standing on the front porch steaming in the cold air.

We asked, "could we cross through the ranch?" She held up her hand commanding silence, leaned over, and spat out a vast amount of noxious brown juice (she was chewing tobacco). As we recoiled, she explained her parents were away in Oklahoma City and all the ranch hands were away and busy, leaving just her to decide (but since rural OK girls grow up tough, fast, and self-reliant this wasn't a problem) and that she had no problem with our request, provided we closed gates after ourselves.

I then asked about her emotional and political allegiances. This place was so far removed from the rest of Oklahoma it was actually closer to Colorado Springs, CO, Santa Fe, NM, Amarillo, Texas, or even towns in Kansas. Did she feel closer affiliation to these places than to Oklahoma City? She found the question absurd. She was an Okie, through and through, and that was that. She was happy to see us gone: a bizarre troupe on a bizarre quest asking bizarre questions.
(Perv With A Dog had his eyes pecked out by scrub jays on, Sat 29 Mar 2014, 18:50, 4 replies)

Last month the binmen broke the lid on my wheelie bin by throwing it across the drive where it hit the wall instead of just placing it back there.
The lid still works but one hinge is snapped so I didnt think anything about it apart from being just a bit annoyed at the careless feckers .
Last week my bin wasnt emptied, when I enquired why, was told because the lid was broken and it could be a safety hazard.
3-5 weeks for a new one and until then they wont empty my bin.
Not really a problem though as my neighbours let me use their bins
The week before, the recycling lot didnt empty my recycling box because some passer by had put a plastic bottle in still with its lid on.
If only I ould end this with a stay about from my bins pun.
(insomniac-surfer oh go on then, just this once, Sat 29 Mar 2014, 17:46, 1 reply)

yellow fever
I tried hard. I really did. Everyone I asked said No. I would not need Yellow fever vaccination for a trip to Tanzania. I was suspicious but couldn't get it done because everyone said I didn't need it.
All was well with the trip: Manchester - Dubai - Nairobi - Arusha.
On arrival in Arusha I was asked for my Yellow fever vaccination certificate.
"No, I don't have that, I've come from the UK, I was told I didn't need it"
"You have come from Kenya"
"Strictly speaking you are correct, but I didn't leave the airport"
"you need a Yellow Fever vaccination certificate if you have come from Kenya. Its alright we can do the vaccination now"
- Much money was exchanged and it was duly done. I felt crap for a few days after that which, thankfully, was not too much of a problem.
(gearanach #wankwankwank, Sat 29 Mar 2014, 17:29, 7 replies)

You can't sit there...
We'd all headed off to the pub after attending the first aikido club grading after my son was born so he was snuggled up in his pram and parked up by the table in the crowded pub. Trying to order a few drinks and food I was told,

" the family area is over there"
"Is it? Ok. (Plus the food order etc.)"
"You need to move over there..."
"Why?"
"Because that's the family area"
"But we are sitting here with all our friends (which was about 30 people from the club, including MANY black belts up to 5th Dan)."
"Yes, but families go over there..."

"Ok, well, you can argue it out with the whole aikido club as to why we can't sit with them (my son was fast asleep in the small pram tucked up against the table plus people were having a look at him as they'd not met him before), plus wake him up by dragging the pram out from the table and over to where you want him to be, and can explain to a screaming three month old baby why he's now awake, or it's one coke, one bitter shandy, a chicken salad and a burger with chips for this table...."

"Err. Ok."
(Mr Joe Bangles, Sat 29 Mar 2014, 15:08, 30 replies)

What are you doing here?
So I was driving home late at night to my flat when I pulled up as there was a car in the way. Rather than it just moving, it pulled up alongside and the copper (in the plain clothes panda), started questioning me about what I was doing there, where had I been and why I was stationary with my engine running.

All I said back was, "I'm just waiting for you to move, so I can park on my driveway." (As he'd parked across it).

"Oh, ok....good night then." And away he drove.

Little did I know but the pay phone below my flat on the corner was the main contact point for gay prostitution in the area.
(Mr Joe Bangles, Sat 29 Mar 2014, 14:54, 12 replies)

Lost my P60 one year , the year I piled in the overtime and went into the supertax bracket (my only year ever) . Had to fill in the self assessment form and you need figures off the P60 to fill it in , phoned up the tax office to explain and asked if they had the details - they couldn`t give them to me , even if I visited (I only live 10minutes away) or even sacrificed my cat on an altar . My works Pay dept had had a redundancy , so they just told me to f` off . I`d left it to the last moment as per bloody usual , so the only thing I could do was umm....guess . Filled in the form and thought they`ll just correct it , umm.. wrong . Had a brown letter a few weeks later ....opened it and inside was a cheque for £56 , woooot .

Sometimes a jobs worth in the IR dept is a good thing :D
(Helikaon, Sat 29 Mar 2014, 14:41, 1 reply)

Broke my leg during mini motorcycle racing with my workmates (another story) . But anyhow , we work weekends and only get paid the premium if we turn up - so I blagged a lift from my shiftmate and sat on my arse for 8hours every day doing f`all . But..this was during the petrol strike about 10 (?) years agoish and our HR dept. informed everyone that they couldn`t put in a self certification if you were sick (even for 1 day) , you`d need a doctors paper for the duration of the strike . So , as usual (over the 6 week period) I turned up in my plaster on the Monday , with a trip to the infirmary for the plaster removal booked for Tuesday - went into HR and saw the front desk clerk and , she said it`d be fine . Had the Tuesday off a la plaster off . Went back in on the Wednesday , with a message from HR awaiting me "asking where the feck I was and I`d better have a doc`s note" . I limped into HR and saw the head manager , told him I`d already spoken to HR and they said it was fine (as the infirmary don`t do doctors notes) . He then accused me of trying to pull a scam and I had to have a doctors note - at this point my head went , "I was in here on Monday with a plaster on my leg , I had it removed yesterday and now its not there (pulling my trouser leg up to make an overdramatic and unnecessary point). How do you think it disappeared ? flipping magic ?" , (at this point I turned it back down a notch as I remembered I was talking to a. a senior manager and b. a grade A twat/cunt ). He just said "Mmmm , still want one , its the rules , even if they are temporary" .

Still , it gave me a story to tell everyone .
(Helikaon, Sat 29 Mar 2014, 14:34, 6 replies)

Walking over an invisible arbitrary line at LAX in an underground walkway...
apparently meant that I had officially left the airport, and had to go around, and go through customs again. The little jobsworth cow who was guarding this invisible line could not handle the fact that there was no one else in the corridor, and there was nothing I could possibly hope to achieve by being a meter "outside" the airport that I couldn’t achieve had I not walked over this sodding line.

No - she was there to guard the line, and make sure no-one walked in the wrong way. Arguments that implied she could perhaps use some common sense, and let me walk the metre back into the airport were met with her fingers inching closer and closer to her walky talky.

Not wanting to upset the Americans and face the inevitability of being shot down in a hail of anti-terrorist gunfire, I grudgingly went off - outside the airport, and went through customs - again.

However - before I went through customs the first time I had eaten the remainder of my stash - and so by the second time I went through I had the mild green tinge of third degree paranoia to contend with while dozens of armed JULFs searched my bag for nail files, bottles of shampoo, lighters and other terrorist essentials.

Again.
(SigourneysBeaver took off and nuked the entire site from orbit on, Sat 29 Mar 2014, 7:19, 4 replies)

Her Majesty's Motherfucking Revenue Cunts
You'll have to travel a long, long way to get as obnoxiously petty as the massive pricks "employed" by HMRC.

The Kafkaesque experience of having to phone day after day and speak to person after clueless fucking person just to convince them that I didn't know the value of a received taxable benefit - a value that they knew TO THE PENNY - but wouldn't tell me so I could fill the form out.

Q. "Could you tell me the value so I can fill your form out?".
A. "No".
( Linbox has a serious dunk habit, Sat 29 Mar 2014, 2:27, 5 replies)

Bouncers

Chicago Rock Café. It was actually in Newbury, didn't play rock, and wasn't a café. It's now a Wetherspoon's, the sort of place that's an empty bar until the good pubs close then it becomes an impromptu night club. Two big bastard bouncers at the door, along with two posts joined by a red ribbon - the type you get in airports and banks - partitioning the double door entrance. The place is dead. We go to walk in, acknowledge the bouncers and they stop us. "Sorry guys, if you want to come in, you need to join the queue", one of them says. My friend looks at them quizzically, takes a step back, a step to the right, and a step forwards and says, "well that was a bit pedantic wasn't it?"
( Turquoise Hexagon Sun has just dropped acid on, Fri 28 Mar 2014, 23:59, 5 replies)

Ofsted closed down my school
after a film of a party was posted on youtube...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lcOxhH8N3Bo
(Littlesirjohn sprung up his head and so amazed them all., Fri 28 Mar 2014, 22:49, 1 reply)

I was in a cafe with a little friend of mine but he fucked off to Dagobah without settling up
Pay tea off I shall.

oddly, he did the same thing again when we were playing golf
( unclepills, Fri 28 Mar 2014, 22:46, Reply)