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» Going Too Far
Sheep herding - a step too far
Not me but my cousin and his mate, on tour through Scotland.
Picture the scene: 2 tall German lads, fresh from a year in the army, skin-headed. The rolling hills of the Highlands, lush vegetation, the freshest summer air, livestock quietly grazing in the fields.
They stop the car. They get out to stretch their legs. They take in the scenery with smiles on their faces... until their eyes catch a herd of sheep in the distance. A plan is formed. A plan that we've probably all considered at some point. Sheep herding.
And with the upmost subtelty that only 2 skin-headed ex-soldiers could manage, they charge up the field sending the herd into a panicked frenzy. The sheep gather together and sprint up the field and onto the horizon. And then they disappear.
Cousin and accomplice eventually reach the horizon point, expecting to see the sheep charging down the other side of the field. This is NOT what they see. What they actually see is a cliff edge, and several sheep carcases strewn in bloody tatters on the rocks below. Ooooooooooops.
They had indeed "gone a little too far".
(Tue 14th Nov 2006, 12:28, More)
Sheep herding - a step too far
Not me but my cousin and his mate, on tour through Scotland.
Picture the scene: 2 tall German lads, fresh from a year in the army, skin-headed. The rolling hills of the Highlands, lush vegetation, the freshest summer air, livestock quietly grazing in the fields.
They stop the car. They get out to stretch their legs. They take in the scenery with smiles on their faces... until their eyes catch a herd of sheep in the distance. A plan is formed. A plan that we've probably all considered at some point. Sheep herding.
And with the upmost subtelty that only 2 skin-headed ex-soldiers could manage, they charge up the field sending the herd into a panicked frenzy. The sheep gather together and sprint up the field and onto the horizon. And then they disappear.
Cousin and accomplice eventually reach the horizon point, expecting to see the sheep charging down the other side of the field. This is NOT what they see. What they actually see is a cliff edge, and several sheep carcases strewn in bloody tatters on the rocks below. Ooooooooooops.
They had indeed "gone a little too far".
(Tue 14th Nov 2006, 12:28, More)
» Guilty Pleasures, part 2
Imaginery beers
Is this a guilty pleasure?
The Bro and I used to play a game whereby we'd take turns to order imaginery beers. We'd start off with something plausible like "Bishop's Elbow" or "Old Fozzock". Upon hearing the inevitable negative response we'd then come back with "Really? It was on last week. Oh well, pint of Guinness then please". Each return visit to the bar would require an increasingly outlandish name... "A pint of Grumpy Tuesday please mate". This can be limitless fun unless you keep getting the same bar staff, although you can just about pull it off in a real ale pub, where all the beers sound daft anyway.
We did this for several hours in a pub once, getting increasedly pissed and creating increasingly ridiculous names. The management threatened to kick us out... killjoys.
(Mon 17th Mar 2008, 15:09, More)
Imaginery beers
Is this a guilty pleasure?
The Bro and I used to play a game whereby we'd take turns to order imaginery beers. We'd start off with something plausible like "Bishop's Elbow" or "Old Fozzock". Upon hearing the inevitable negative response we'd then come back with "Really? It was on last week. Oh well, pint of Guinness then please". Each return visit to the bar would require an increasingly outlandish name... "A pint of Grumpy Tuesday please mate". This can be limitless fun unless you keep getting the same bar staff, although you can just about pull it off in a real ale pub, where all the beers sound daft anyway.
We did this for several hours in a pub once, getting increasedly pissed and creating increasingly ridiculous names. The management threatened to kick us out... killjoys.
(Mon 17th Mar 2008, 15:09, More)
» Housemates
Underwear Man
An old flatmate of mine (in a house of 8) was a weird, weird fellow. Sinister in fact.
He was in his early forties, rotund, and socially inept to an awkward degree. My room was next to his and I could often hear him typing away on the computer until ludicrous hours - he worked at home so kept some very odd hours. Presumably his late-night "work" consisted of fwapping away to god knows what sort of filth. Nice.
One night the rest of us normal humans were outside in the garden, getting merrily lashed. One of the other flatmates popped inside for a pish. He opened the door to the pisher and found Underwear Man standing on the toilet, peering out of the window at the rest of us outside. Obviously, this freaked us all out - the idea of him lurking in the toilet, staring at us, possibly milking himself in the process. Urgh. This was freaky incident number one.
A few weeks on and one of the German girls told me about another rather disturbing incident that had occured one morning. She'd come out of the bathroom post-showering, towel wrapped around her. He was just standing at the end of the corridor, staring at her. He didn't say a word - just stared. Horror. This was incident number two.
He moved out after a few months, much to everyone's relief - especially the girls. However one night, in a stupid act of pity, we invited him round for drinks and let him stay on the sofa. In a sleeping bag.
He actually acted quite normally that evening, and by the morning he was gone - empty sleeping bag left on the sofa. One of the other German girls was up first. I heard a scream. I ran over to her to see what was wrong. She was actually shaking. Turns out she'd left her washing in the machine overnight. Bras and panties. That morning they'd all gone. In an attempt to find them she'd been pulling the flat apart... until she picked up the sleeping bag.... and all her intimates fell out of it..... can you even imagine what he'd been doing with them.... in a sleeping bag....
Poor lass re-washed everything about 5 times. That is, the one's that hadn't gone missing....
Not a word of this is a lie. This freak actually exists. Last I heard he was living in Streatham.
GIRLS OF STREATHAM BEWARE
(Fri 27th Feb 2009, 9:58, More)
Underwear Man
An old flatmate of mine (in a house of 8) was a weird, weird fellow. Sinister in fact.
He was in his early forties, rotund, and socially inept to an awkward degree. My room was next to his and I could often hear him typing away on the computer until ludicrous hours - he worked at home so kept some very odd hours. Presumably his late-night "work" consisted of fwapping away to god knows what sort of filth. Nice.
One night the rest of us normal humans were outside in the garden, getting merrily lashed. One of the other flatmates popped inside for a pish. He opened the door to the pisher and found Underwear Man standing on the toilet, peering out of the window at the rest of us outside. Obviously, this freaked us all out - the idea of him lurking in the toilet, staring at us, possibly milking himself in the process. Urgh. This was freaky incident number one.
A few weeks on and one of the German girls told me about another rather disturbing incident that had occured one morning. She'd come out of the bathroom post-showering, towel wrapped around her. He was just standing at the end of the corridor, staring at her. He didn't say a word - just stared. Horror. This was incident number two.
He moved out after a few months, much to everyone's relief - especially the girls. However one night, in a stupid act of pity, we invited him round for drinks and let him stay on the sofa. In a sleeping bag.
He actually acted quite normally that evening, and by the morning he was gone - empty sleeping bag left on the sofa. One of the other German girls was up first. I heard a scream. I ran over to her to see what was wrong. She was actually shaking. Turns out she'd left her washing in the machine overnight. Bras and panties. That morning they'd all gone. In an attempt to find them she'd been pulling the flat apart... until she picked up the sleeping bag.... and all her intimates fell out of it..... can you even imagine what he'd been doing with them.... in a sleeping bag....
Poor lass re-washed everything about 5 times. That is, the one's that hadn't gone missing....
Not a word of this is a lie. This freak actually exists. Last I heard he was living in Streatham.
GIRLS OF STREATHAM BEWARE
(Fri 27th Feb 2009, 9:58, More)
» Family codes and rituals
Bad hair day
When my mother's hair is less than compliant, particularly on a windy day, she refers to herself as looking like "the wreck of the Hesparus".
A wonderfully poetic description, although I very much doubt she has ever read the actual poem - so god knows how / why she uses this phrase....
(Fri 21st Nov 2008, 10:18, More)
Bad hair day
When my mother's hair is less than compliant, particularly on a windy day, she refers to herself as looking like "the wreck of the Hesparus".
A wonderfully poetic description, although I very much doubt she has ever read the actual poem - so god knows how / why she uses this phrase....
(Fri 21st Nov 2008, 10:18, More)