Too much informationRakky writes "A friend of mine, when quizzed why she was late to the pub, announced 'I was at accident and emergency, having a stuck tampon removed. They had to have a right old dig around for it.' Suffice to say, no one was interested in their Scampi Fries after that."
When have you shared just that little too much?
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chthonic, Thu 6 Sep 2007, 10:09)
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"hanging down to my knees"Back when I lived in South Africa and worked at a factory, we had The Three Brians: me, my boss Brian, and his boss Brian. Middle Brian was tailor-made for this question: I was the new kid, a sensitive soul with a fresh set of ears to brutalize.
He had Piles. No ordinary Piles, in his descriptions these... things took on Milliganesque* proportions. I think he offered to show me at one point... I must have blanked out the memory of the question alone.
Nevertheless, I was a bit more sympathetic than my other colleagues, who had heard it all before. One wag had offered him a surefire way of shifting them: a bucket of petrol and a wire brush. This went down like... a bucket of petrol and a wire brush.
Middle Brian is no longer with us: turns out that his colonic problems were a bit more serious than "mere" Piles. All the information you need can be summed up in one word: Fucksocks. 8(
* As Spike Milligan described his in his WWII journals: epic
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bnt what, me worry?, Fri 7 Sep 2007, 21:09,
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