Profile for bogus official:
WOODSIDE IS A CUNT
But he made this
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WOODSIDE IS A CUNT
But he made this
Recent front page messages:
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Best answers to questions:
» I hurt my rude bits
Banjo string misery
I was 18 or 19 and having a right good session with my girlfriend on a sofa at her mate's house. Things were getting somewhat athletic and I withdrew ever so slightly too far, bumped on her pubic bone on the way back in and carried on. A moment later she asked me if I had come, obviously not as I was not a quivering wreck of sweaty teenager yet. 'Well, what's all that then?' she asked referring to the rather obvious moisture overload in her flange. Exasperated I withdrew and nearly cried at what I saw. There was blood pumping, yes pumping, from my bell end and dripping from her minge. I gripped my knob with all my might and ran up the stair to get it under the cold tap in the bathroom. I was shaking like a shitting whippet all the way and I didn't give a shit about all the blood that was flying all over the nice walls and lovely new white stair carpet. Rather too slowly I thought, I lost the erection and the bleeding subsided to a trickle so I could inspect the damage. It was indeed a snapped banjo string. We tried, oh how we tried, to have sex again but the pain of minge moisture on open cock wound is intollerable, it took a good 3 months to be able to do the job right. We spent a couple of hours bleaching blood stains from the carpet and wiping the walls and sofa cushions free of blood that night. My bollocks were like concrete as I was seconds from the vinegars when the incident occurred, a problem I couldn't manually cure for months either. Oh how we laughed
(Sat 15th Jul 2006, 13:27, More)
Banjo string misery
I was 18 or 19 and having a right good session with my girlfriend on a sofa at her mate's house. Things were getting somewhat athletic and I withdrew ever so slightly too far, bumped on her pubic bone on the way back in and carried on. A moment later she asked me if I had come, obviously not as I was not a quivering wreck of sweaty teenager yet. 'Well, what's all that then?' she asked referring to the rather obvious moisture overload in her flange. Exasperated I withdrew and nearly cried at what I saw. There was blood pumping, yes pumping, from my bell end and dripping from her minge. I gripped my knob with all my might and ran up the stair to get it under the cold tap in the bathroom. I was shaking like a shitting whippet all the way and I didn't give a shit about all the blood that was flying all over the nice walls and lovely new white stair carpet. Rather too slowly I thought, I lost the erection and the bleeding subsided to a trickle so I could inspect the damage. It was indeed a snapped banjo string. We tried, oh how we tried, to have sex again but the pain of minge moisture on open cock wound is intollerable, it took a good 3 months to be able to do the job right. We spent a couple of hours bleaching blood stains from the carpet and wiping the walls and sofa cushions free of blood that night. My bollocks were like concrete as I was seconds from the vinegars when the incident occurred, a problem I couldn't manually cure for months either. Oh how we laughed
(Sat 15th Jul 2006, 13:27, More)
» Putting the Fun in Funeral
About 15 years ago my best mate died of cancer
She was only 28 and had left behind her husband and little daughter. She had been battling with cancer since she was 18 and seemed ok for a long while, but the last couple of years of her life were a slow and painful time. Her funeral was held at a crematorium near Bradford and several of us who got there early were milling about nervously outside while another funeral was going on. Cue my mate Liam, the thick twat,with this pearl; "What the fuck is that smell? I mean, it's like really burnt meat or something!"
Sigh
(Thu 11th May 2006, 16:42, More)
About 15 years ago my best mate died of cancer
She was only 28 and had left behind her husband and little daughter. She had been battling with cancer since she was 18 and seemed ok for a long while, but the last couple of years of her life were a slow and painful time. Her funeral was held at a crematorium near Bradford and several of us who got there early were milling about nervously outside while another funeral was going on. Cue my mate Liam, the thick twat,with this pearl; "What the fuck is that smell? I mean, it's like really burnt meat or something!"
Sigh
(Thu 11th May 2006, 16:42, More)
» Restaurants, Kitchens and Bars... Oh my!
I was running a boozer in Bradford a few years ago
There was a girl, Leanne, who worked there who as excellent at her job, took no crap from anyone and if you hadn't supped up by ten past eleven she would just lift your booze and bid you farewell, well it saved me the trouble. I was off one day and when I came back I was given a splendid tale by her. It seems some chap was giving her a load of earache about nothing, punters being invariably wrong, and she had tired of it and had a bit of a moan to her boyfriend about this chap whinging about a glass he claimed was dirty. Her boyfriend then promptly took out his cock and wiped it around the rim of the glass that was to be the punter's next pint. It was her who told me this and the disciplinary procedure was as follows; "That was a bit naughty, wasn't it, Leanne? Nice one"
(Mon 24th Jul 2006, 11:06, More)
I was running a boozer in Bradford a few years ago
There was a girl, Leanne, who worked there who as excellent at her job, took no crap from anyone and if you hadn't supped up by ten past eleven she would just lift your booze and bid you farewell, well it saved me the trouble. I was off one day and when I came back I was given a splendid tale by her. It seems some chap was giving her a load of earache about nothing, punters being invariably wrong, and she had tired of it and had a bit of a moan to her boyfriend about this chap whinging about a glass he claimed was dirty. Her boyfriend then promptly took out his cock and wiped it around the rim of the glass that was to be the punter's next pint. It was her who told me this and the disciplinary procedure was as follows; "That was a bit naughty, wasn't it, Leanne? Nice one"
(Mon 24th Jul 2006, 11:06, More)
» Shame
A couple of weeks ago
I got up for work at some hellish time, probably about 4:15 or something, after a successful early evening session in the pub. After getting out of the shower I went straight to the kitchen to get some toast on the go. As I replaced the bread in the cupboard I coughed and farted, the kind of fart that makes an alarming wet noise, so wet in fact that the results were on the kitchen floor. A nice brown puddle of beery poo. It sat there until I came home from work some ten hours later, I couldn't face that kind of cleaning at that time of day. Slightly shameful I suppose.
(Mon 28th Nov 2005, 10:04, More)
A couple of weeks ago
I got up for work at some hellish time, probably about 4:15 or something, after a successful early evening session in the pub. After getting out of the shower I went straight to the kitchen to get some toast on the go. As I replaced the bread in the cupboard I coughed and farted, the kind of fart that makes an alarming wet noise, so wet in fact that the results were on the kitchen floor. A nice brown puddle of beery poo. It sat there until I came home from work some ten hours later, I couldn't face that kind of cleaning at that time of day. Slightly shameful I suppose.
(Mon 28th Nov 2005, 10:04, More)