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Profile for Dr Frank:
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Recent front page messages:



(Sun 7th Aug 2005, 19:46, More)

Smashing!
allow me to add a competition repost to your thread...


(Fri 10th Jun 2005, 17:30, More)



(Sun 29th May 2005, 17:03, More)



(Thu 19th May 2005, 10:14, More)



(Fri 15th Apr 2005, 0:50, More)



(Fri 11th Mar 2005, 2:20, More)

On your marks...

(Sun 13th Feb 2005, 16:09, More)



(Mon 15th Nov 2004, 1:00, More)

This was fun to do...

(Fri 12th Nov 2004, 0:17, More)



(Sun 31st Oct 2004, 13:00, More)

Best answers to questions:

» Why I was late

I'd love to share my best excuse...
But the dog ate it.
(Thu 28th Jun 2007, 20:32, More)

» And that's the thanks I got

Drunks...
As the original good samaritan I love a lost cause.

On our way home from a movie one night, my ex-wife and I met a little ole lady stumbling from a city bus, shopping trolley in tow... I gallantly dashed forward to help the old dear to the pavement. She grabbed my hand gratefully and looked pleadingly up at me and said... "Can you help me home, I can't walk!"

T'was true, she couldn't walk. This was partly due to the fact that her beltless trousers were residing somewhere around her knees and she was completely rat arsed.

"I'll tell you what," says I. "hang on here and I'll go and fetch my car and give you a lift."

"OK" says she. I pop into a kiosk and ask them to keep an eye on the old woman ouside while I get the car. On hearing this she pipes up...."I'm not a woman, I'm a man. I'm the king of Copenhagen!"

I apologise and set of for home and the wheels. Five minutes later and he's still waiting for the ride, bollocks. Ah well. As I wrestle his shopping trolley into the boot it clinks in an ominous fashion and several unidentifed liquids spill out into the trunk.

I help "The King" into the car and notice an interesting odour. Kind of a musty, yoghurty smell, unpleasant yet strangely intruiging... I also spy something that resembles well padded underwear protruding from the waistline of his strides. I should have twigged...

After 15 minutes of scouring the streets of Copenhagen for a landmark the King could recognise, we finally find his flat. I carry his trolley up four flights of stairs and descend to help him out of the car.

We somehow negotiate the stairs and I leave him fumbling for his keys... Once back in the car, I notice that the smell has not disappeared with its initiator. I turn on the cabin light to be met with the sight of day old, marinated piss seeping gently into the front passenger seat.

Ta.
(Fri 25th May 2007, 1:02, More)

» School Days

Craft lessons
At the tender age of 8 craft lessons consisted of balsa wood sculpture, papier mâché and tissue paper. One fine lesson at the beginning of November we were granted permission to make a Guy. Teacher had laid on the materials all we needed to provide were his garments.

The lesson progressed as we scrunched up the newspaper we needed to fill Guy out. The paper balls were then inserted into numerous pairs of nylon tights and old Fawkes took shape.

Being the class clown, I was constantly on the lookout for something foolish to do, I pulled a pair of tights over my head and looked at my classmates.

"Bleurgh," says I " they smell of Mrs Frape's fanny!"

Unfortunately, form tutor Mrs Frape was stood behind me at the time...
(Tue 3rd Feb 2009, 0:35, More)

» Lies Your Parents Told You

My lie to my younger brother (I was like a father to him)
Poor little Nick, while on holiday in France I convinced him that a ouija board was to be found in French pissoirs. It was basically a heated ledge in front of the urinal on which to place your willy whilst having a pee.
(Wed 14th Jan 2004, 17:49, More)