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I am the ninth incarnation of the Time Lord known as Doctor Skagra.

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» Terrified!

Alien War
Back in the mid-1990's there was this interactive exhibition type thing in the Trocadero Centre in Picadilly Circus called ALIEN WAR. As a huge Alien fan, of course I could not resist it. I paid my fiver not knowing what really to expect - some blokes in xenomorph costumes behind glass, clips from the films, etc. NO WAY was I prepared for what was about to come!

I (and about ten other people) are led into a dark room that looks like the medroom set from Aliens and "briefed" by Colonel Hardass, who tells us we we're a group of scientists visiting xenomorphs in captivity that we must be extremely careful, as these things are dangerous, etc etc. Pretty much what I was expecting.

After about two minutes of this, a shrieking alarm blares out and all the lighting goes emergency red, and I shit my pants (not for the first time). Colonel Hardass cuts the alarm, presses the intercom and we hear a garbled message along the lines of "AAAAGHHH! THEY'RE KILLING US! GET US OUT OF HERE AAAAAAAAAAIEEEEE!" and I shit my pants again.

Col H calls for calm whilst telling us that the worst has happened - the aliens have all escaped, and are marauding their way through the space station killing all in sight!

By this point, my legs are actually shaking with fear. NOW I KNOW the xenomorphs aren't real, and I knew so back then; but such is the power of the Alien films (well the first two), and so convincing was the set-up and the acting skills of Col H (really, he could have fitted in right beside Apone, Vasquez et al) that the knowledge that it was all make-believe was USELESS. USELESS. USELESS. However much the rational side of my mind tried to convince me this was all fake, it was shouted down by the (larger) irrational side of my mind which screamed GAME OVER, MAN! GAME OOOO-VER! on a continual loop. From that point on, I and my fellow scientists were, effectively, inside an Aliens film. And we all know what happens in those. Bloody, violent DEATH!

Col Hardass informs us that we have to make our way through the station to the shuttle-bay, there to make our escape. With no time to think we are hustled along a Nostromo-like corridor shrouded in dry ice, with Colonel Hardass urging continual vigilance. Minutes pass, there are nervous giggles and my legs are STILL shaking. NOTREALNOTREAL/GAMEOVERGAMEOVERGAMEOVER. Suddenly a door BUSTS open and Lieutenant Injured falls through, screaming in pain and holding an arm which is covered in blood. So convincing was his acting and the make up that I actually felt cold fear rise up from the soles of my feat to my balls. Lt Injured briefs us on the situation - we're all fucked - before being spirited away somewhere (such was the terror and confusion I can't remember what happened to him).

We are then hustled along another corridor at the end of which suddenly appears - an alien!

I've no idea to this day how they did it (film projection, smoke and mirrors, man in a suit?) To all intents and purposes, we are faced with an actual alien, out of Alien (well, Aliens, it was one of the ones with a ridged carapace). Everyody, EVERYBODY, SCREAMS and immediately runs back the other way! Col H is nowhere to be seen. I still remember the blind panic of those moments, I was shoving people aside to get them behind me so that the alien would get them and not me. It sounds pathetic, but it was so realistic that it felt like the real thing and by now all of us were on such an adrenaline high that we were utterly convinced it was real.

Suddenly Col H re-appear and bundles us into a lift - which I swear to this day I could feel plummeting down at speed. At the bottom the doors open to reveal another alien! This one must have been a man in a suit as he - it - REACHES INTO THE LIFT AND GRABS THIS GIRL'S ARM! I still remember her shrieks of pure terror.

Out the lift the other side - and we find ourselves in a chamber of alien eggs, swimming in dry ice. By now all of use are insane with terror, so we don't have to be told to be careful as we wind our way through the xenomorphic minefield. Thankfully (though rather disappointingly in retrospect) none of the eggs open, and we make it into the shuttle. By this time I was gibbering. "Check under the seats!" I shout before we strap ourselves in. "Good man!" grunts Colonel Hardass and my heart swells with pride. Then the shuttle takes off with a great shuddering and shaking and deafening racket (all effects obviously) and then the doors open to reveal - the gift shop.

"Well done ladies and gentleman you have survived Alien War", say Colonel Hardass and shakes all our hands.

I remember staggering dumbly out into the Spring sunshine of Picadilly Circus, and finding my way to Burger King where I sat, alternately shivering involuntarily and bursting out with laughter. My little mind had been fairly blown. It was two hours before I began to feel even vaguely normal.

I went back again a few years later, but it wasn't as good as the first time (diminishing returns) and it closed in 1996 due to a flood.

I appreciate that at no time was I in mortal danger and that the fear was nothing like that of finding a lump on your balls, but, honestly, I've never been so scared before or since that my legs *actually shook with terror.*

Best fiver I've ever spent!
(Fri 6th Apr 2012, 18:09, More)

» Cougars and Sugar Daddies

London shop girl
I once shagged a 19-year old shop girl from London.

We had quite a romance, actually. I took her to places she'd never been before and showed her amazing sights no-one had ever seen before. We fell out a bit over her dad, but soon patched things up.

I went through a bit of a mid-life crisis when all this shit from my past turned up, but she helped me through that and saved the day, would you believe, with a kiss.

After that I was a changed man with a new outlook on life and the romance entered a new stage. We were giddily happy, madly in love and wanted everyone to know. I didn't even mind when her ex-boyfriend turned up and came along for the ride for a bit (but I was glad when we had to abandon him).

Unfortunately, eventually, some other shit from my past turned up and I had to leave her forever. I thought that was the last I would ever see of her, so I shacked up with a young black trainee doctor from London and then this lairy 40 year old ginger temp (I was getting desperate).

Then the WORST shit from my past turned up and so did she again. This time I sorted it for good (I hope) but had to abandon her again, this time with an awkward compromise which satisfied nobody.

I still miss her. She was fantastic. The age difference? 881 years.

The Doctor
(Fri 5th Dec 2008, 10:40, More)

» Puns

The people of Dubai
do not find The Flintstones funny, but the people of Abu Dhabi do.

Dr S
(Sat 7th Mar 2009, 17:29, More)

» No Self-Awareness

I worked with this guy
let's call him Bob. He was a bit - well, hard to say what, really, but if you saw him you'd know straight away 'something' was going on. Is he autistic, had he been dropped on the head when he was a baby, is he some kind of genetic mutation - could have been anything. Let's just say he was - unique. Special.

He was employed only to do the most menial of chores and to his credit he did them well - distributing post, photocopying, filing, etc. and in all the years I knew him he was never late or off sick. So in one sense he was a good worker - reliable, dependable - but only in his comfort zone. Ask him to do anything else and he would spaz out, sometimes spectacularly. He couldn't answer the phone - he was way too nervous, and had a speech impediment that made his mouth fill up with saliva until it dribbled out of his mouth or he swallowed it. He also never - NEVER! - wiped his ass after having a shit.

He would regularly pick his nose with the intensity of a hardcore anal porn performer.

His BO wasn't too bad, but once you smelt it, you didn't want to ever smell it again. Like a pot of coleslaw that's been left out in the sun for three hours.

He had a problem with farting - or rather, WE had a problem with HIM farting - this is where the lack of self-awareness comes in. He would regularly let rip with the most obnoxious chuffers it has ever been my 'pleasure' to experience. The sound would start as a low growl - imagine a very angry cat - then sharply rise to an astounding and very wet-sounding crescendo - MMMMMMPsssssstthhHHHHHHRRRRPPTHTHHTHHSHTHSHHSHTBBRAAAAPPPPPRPRPTSSSSSHHH!
- something that Jonny Fartpants out of Viz would consider a masterpiece.

Whilst in the process of letting this fart, Bob's face would remain as immobile as a waxwork, his eyes intent on the computer screen in front of him, his fingers tapping away, seemingly oblivious to the 'events down below.'

Fart emitted, the smell would then permeate the office. Those in the know would have legged it at the first subsonic growl - those remaining would experience an odour of, fuck, how to describe it? It was definitely beefy, and definitely eggy, due to Bob's diet of pies and pasties and crisps and all manner of shite. But there was something else... as though something had crawled up Bob's arse and died, there to remain, its rotting carcass contributing to the feculent miasma of Bob's anal emissions. But - but there was something else again... the smell of mucus; if you've ever smelt someone's breath when they have a bad cold, that was there as well. All in all, the worst smell I have ever ever smelt ever.

Bob's farts have caused a senior officer to below "What the HELL's that?" They have made a 19 year old temp girl run, sobbing from the office. They have made Post-It notes curl up. They have rendered a cup of tea that I once abandoned in the blast area undrinkable - I COULD ACTUALLY TASTE HIS FART SMELL IN MY TEA. Jesus Pissflaps. Once, he followed through, and, whilst he was in the bog 'cleaning up' (bet he never washed his hands), Facilities Management quickly replaced his chair, and the soiled one had to be burned.

Bob, Bob, fucking farty Bob, I'm so glad I no longer work with you. For this and many other reasons which may well come to light in future QOTWs.

(There you go! A proper story. Anyone looking for a pun can shit off).
(Sun 2nd Dec 2012, 21:06, More)

» Saying the Unsayable

I once had to tell someone
that they were to be made redundant due to company downsizing. It was one of our junior workers, a diligent, cheerful fellow in his mid-thirties, who had a wife and two small children to support. Everyone liked him, he was a good worker, his sick record was impeccable, and he always scored Exceeded in his annual review.

But fuck that. We were strapped for cash, so the cunt had to go, and his duties spread around other teams in the office.

I always believe the best way to deal with redundancy is to tell the affected person as soon as possible, so as to squash any rumours, and to tell it to them straight. Then let them collapse into a blubbering snot-nosed heap in front of you, and then quietly and politely extricate oneself from the meeting, and go for a power wank. I'd done it before, and I'd do it again - many times, going by our plummeting bottom line.

And so with this in mind I invited the oblivious employee for a quick 'chat.' He blanched a bit when I said this, as everyone knows that the worst thing a manager can ask of you is to come for a quick 'chat'; but I smiled and reassured him that it wouldn't take long.

He happily followed me into Meeting Room 2.2 and sat opposite me, a vague smile playing over his bland, good-guy features. I felt an erection begin to stir, and shifted in my seat as I clasped my hands on the table.

"Bill", I said [name changed obviously - it was John really], "I'm afraid I have some rather bad news for you. You will be aware that we are undergoing a period of business reorganisation at present."

I paused. All the colour had drained from Bill's face, and his eyes had widened in shock. I knew then that he knew, and that my next words were almost irrelevant.

"Due to downsizing we can no longer afford your post, so we are terminating your employment with us, so you will be made compulsorily redundant in three weeks as of today which we have a right to do according to your contract of employment."

I watched with interest as Bill sort of... melted... in front of me. First his eyes closed, tears squeezing through his eyelids. Then his mouth twisted as he emitted a choking sob of despair. His shoulders slumped and he collapsed head in hands over the table, his body racked with shuddering sobs as he wept in utter and complete despair.

Lush!

I was now fully erect, and couldn't help flicking the V's at Bill's abject carcass as it howled and squirmed before me. I then intoned in the most callous monotone I could manage: "Counselling is available for all staff affected by the downsizing. Please contact the Staff Counsellor, you will find their details on the Intranet."

I then stood up to leave, my erection making this somewhat difficult.

Bill's twisted, destroyed form writhed beneath me, and he managed to twist his gaze in my direction. "Bubleraghaghegoblublagheraaaaagh!" he said.

I shook my head sadly. "Believe me Bill this hurts me more than it hurts you. And who knows? In the current climate it could be MY head on the block next!" Like BOLLOCKING FUCKTHUNDER it would.

"Please," the victim gasped. "My family... it's Christmas... please... gluberooberaargherblaaaaaaaaaaaa!"

But I was already on my way out of the room and Bill's cries receded as I took myself off to the executive bathroom for that well-deserved power wank.

Very soundly, next to my beautiful wife, thanks for asking.
(Mon 14th Jan 2013, 21:44, More)
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