Profile for rockdoctor:
none
Recent front page messages:
none
Best answers to questions:
[read all their answers]
- a member for 16 years, 4 months and 21 days
- has posted 0 messages on the main board
- has posted 0 messages on the talk board
- has posted 1 messages on the links board
- has posted 10 stories and 109 replies on question of the week
- They liked 1 pictures, 0 links, 0 talk posts, and 372 qotw answers.
- Ignore this user
- Add this user as a friend
- send me a message
none
Recent front page messages:
none
Best answers to questions:
» Sporting Woe
I have been searching for
but failing to find, any evidence for the rule that says if you're good at sports then you must be a meathead, and vice-versa.
This seems to be the generally accepted rule on here, and it is frankly bollocks.
Whilst everyone has a story about being some sporting misadventure, I don't see why it's acceptable to admit to being completely unfit and incoordinated any more than it is to be unable to read properly or understand basic science.
And if you are shit at sports, stop whingeing about the kids who were good at it, or how the PE teacher was always a cunt.
I know the question jokes about us being pasty faced shut-ins, but fuck's sake, tell a story without blaming someone else.
Right, so having foolishly whinged on an internet forum, I await some righteous abuse.
(Mon 23rd Apr 2012, 13:29, More)
I have been searching for
but failing to find, any evidence for the rule that says if you're good at sports then you must be a meathead, and vice-versa.
This seems to be the generally accepted rule on here, and it is frankly bollocks.
Whilst everyone has a story about being some sporting misadventure, I don't see why it's acceptable to admit to being completely unfit and incoordinated any more than it is to be unable to read properly or understand basic science.
And if you are shit at sports, stop whingeing about the kids who were good at it, or how the PE teacher was always a cunt.
I know the question jokes about us being pasty faced shut-ins, but fuck's sake, tell a story without blaming someone else.
Right, so having foolishly whinged on an internet forum, I await some righteous abuse.
(Mon 23rd Apr 2012, 13:29, More)
» Shoplifting
Not shoplifting as such, more idiotic theft
I should point out before I start that I have never shoplifted in my life, and find theft morally reprehensible. It's just that alcohol seems to blur the line between 'theft' and 'that seems like a good idea'.
My first story is set in Cambridge, where I'd been drinking in my old college bar all evening with a friend. He'd left his bike in the college bike sheds, and as we staggered out of the bar to head back to his house, bottles of wine clutched in our hands (not entirely sure where we'd got them from, but that's another story), he asked me to ensure that he didn't try and ride his bike home. I assured him that I most certainly wouldn't.
Fast forward, ooh, two minutes, and he's wheeling his BMX out of the bike shed (we were in our 20s by then and far too old for this type of bike, but as children of the 70s and 80s it seemed OK to us). This made perfect sense to me, despite my previous assertions. However, a problem had arisen - how was I to get home? I had no bike, and he was sitting on his outside the front of college waiting for me. The answer presented itself to me, conveniently enough, in the form of a nice, shiny, unlocked bicycle standing propped up against the kerb right next to me. Fantastic! I leapt onto the bike, and we both pedalled off happily, wine bottles still in hand.
The fact that the owner of this bike, and their friends, had been stood _right next to it_ when I got on it, had indeed registered with me, but seemed of little consequence at the time.
I got about two minutes down the road when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned (wobbled) to see one of the aforementioned people on his bike, asking what I thought I was doing. A large gentleman, who may have played rugby. I stopped, said 'there you go mate' and handed him the bike back. I also offered him my bottle of wine as a peace offering, which he declined.
He then just took the bike I'd stolen and cycled back off in the direction he'd just come from. Without kicking my head in. A remarkably phlegmatic chap, I've always thought.
The second instance is more the usual drunken student stealing of roadsigns, this one from Ventnor on the Isle of Wight whilst on a geology field trip. This is more by way of an apology to the good people of The Pitts, but I'm sure you've had that stolen plenty of times before. It was bloody heavy, mind, and took up a lot of space in the department minibus on the way home.
Length? About half way down Trumpington Street.
Sorry it's a long one, this is my first, so be gentle...
(Thu 10th Jan 2008, 13:59, More)
Not shoplifting as such, more idiotic theft
I should point out before I start that I have never shoplifted in my life, and find theft morally reprehensible. It's just that alcohol seems to blur the line between 'theft' and 'that seems like a good idea'.
My first story is set in Cambridge, where I'd been drinking in my old college bar all evening with a friend. He'd left his bike in the college bike sheds, and as we staggered out of the bar to head back to his house, bottles of wine clutched in our hands (not entirely sure where we'd got them from, but that's another story), he asked me to ensure that he didn't try and ride his bike home. I assured him that I most certainly wouldn't.
Fast forward, ooh, two minutes, and he's wheeling his BMX out of the bike shed (we were in our 20s by then and far too old for this type of bike, but as children of the 70s and 80s it seemed OK to us). This made perfect sense to me, despite my previous assertions. However, a problem had arisen - how was I to get home? I had no bike, and he was sitting on his outside the front of college waiting for me. The answer presented itself to me, conveniently enough, in the form of a nice, shiny, unlocked bicycle standing propped up against the kerb right next to me. Fantastic! I leapt onto the bike, and we both pedalled off happily, wine bottles still in hand.
The fact that the owner of this bike, and their friends, had been stood _right next to it_ when I got on it, had indeed registered with me, but seemed of little consequence at the time.
I got about two minutes down the road when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned (wobbled) to see one of the aforementioned people on his bike, asking what I thought I was doing. A large gentleman, who may have played rugby. I stopped, said 'there you go mate' and handed him the bike back. I also offered him my bottle of wine as a peace offering, which he declined.
He then just took the bike I'd stolen and cycled back off in the direction he'd just come from. Without kicking my head in. A remarkably phlegmatic chap, I've always thought.
The second instance is more the usual drunken student stealing of roadsigns, this one from Ventnor on the Isle of Wight whilst on a geology field trip. This is more by way of an apology to the good people of The Pitts, but I'm sure you've had that stolen plenty of times before. It was bloody heavy, mind, and took up a lot of space in the department minibus on the way home.
Length? About half way down Trumpington Street.
Sorry it's a long one, this is my first, so be gentle...
(Thu 10th Jan 2008, 13:59, More)
» Dodgy work ethics
Spot the odd one out
CHCB's story about bombs reminds me.
I remember having to do something similar when I worked in a shoe shop in Oxford, in 1991 I think it was.
Apparently someone had planted a firebomb hidden in a shoe box in another shoe shop in Oxford. People were being evacuated from said shop. This was some Major Shit. It was certainly the most interesting thing that had happened to me in a shoe shop, in a very short list of uninteresting things.
Leaving aside the question of why anyone would actually hide a bomb in a shoe box (Oxford, always a big target for the IRA), my thoughtful boss sent me into the fucking store room to go and 'check for bombs'.
Right, so that's look for an incendiary device that's supposed to be hidden in a shoe box, in a room full of shoe boxes that all look identical. As a 17 year old at the time, my bomb disposal skills were minimal, to say the least. Fuck knows what I would have done had there actually been anything to find (rather than it being a lame hoax); scattered myself around the store room and caught fire, I imagine.
I think I poked my head around the door for about 10 seconds, told everyone it looked fine and then went back upstairs and carried on standing around like everybody else.
That memory had escaped me for 20 years.
It was Barratt's on Queen Street, if anyone remembers (or cares).
(Thu 7th Jul 2011, 15:11, More)
Spot the odd one out
CHCB's story about bombs reminds me.
I remember having to do something similar when I worked in a shoe shop in Oxford, in 1991 I think it was.
Apparently someone had planted a firebomb hidden in a shoe box in another shoe shop in Oxford. People were being evacuated from said shop. This was some Major Shit. It was certainly the most interesting thing that had happened to me in a shoe shop, in a very short list of uninteresting things.
Leaving aside the question of why anyone would actually hide a bomb in a shoe box (Oxford, always a big target for the IRA), my thoughtful boss sent me into the fucking store room to go and 'check for bombs'.
Right, so that's look for an incendiary device that's supposed to be hidden in a shoe box, in a room full of shoe boxes that all look identical. As a 17 year old at the time, my bomb disposal skills were minimal, to say the least. Fuck knows what I would have done had there actually been anything to find (rather than it being a lame hoax); scattered myself around the store room and caught fire, I imagine.
I think I poked my head around the door for about 10 seconds, told everyone it looked fine and then went back upstairs and carried on standing around like everybody else.
That memory had escaped me for 20 years.
It was Barratt's on Queen Street, if anyone remembers (or cares).
(Thu 7th Jul 2011, 15:11, More)
» Famous people I hate
Steve Wright, again.
I was going to reply to the excellent post below, but then the bile started flowing so i thought I'd share it. Misanthropically.
Steve Wright. What a raging cock.
What's really annoying is that I recall him being vaguely amusing in the mid-80s. Clearly this can only be because I was too young to know any better; my sense of humour may not have moved on much from when I was 16, but I think it has since I was 10.
What _really_ annoys me about him and his bunch of sycophantic fucktards is how thuddingly, cretinously stupid they all are. Every time they read out a 'factoid', they treat it with the sort of wonder and amazement that a medieaval peasant would the internet were he dropped into the 21st Century. IT'S BLINDINGLY OBVIOUS. IT'S NOT LIKE YOU'VE JUST BEEN PRESENTED WITH FERMAT'S LAST FUCKING THEOREM YOU SET OF INDUSTRIAL-GRADE CUNTBUBBLES.
We're not alone. i just found this: www.ihatestevewright.com/
(Thu 4th Feb 2010, 13:29, More)
Steve Wright, again.
I was going to reply to the excellent post below, but then the bile started flowing so i thought I'd share it. Misanthropically.
Steve Wright. What a raging cock.
What's really annoying is that I recall him being vaguely amusing in the mid-80s. Clearly this can only be because I was too young to know any better; my sense of humour may not have moved on much from when I was 16, but I think it has since I was 10.
What _really_ annoys me about him and his bunch of sycophantic fucktards is how thuddingly, cretinously stupid they all are. Every time they read out a 'factoid', they treat it with the sort of wonder and amazement that a medieaval peasant would the internet were he dropped into the 21st Century. IT'S BLINDINGLY OBVIOUS. IT'S NOT LIKE YOU'VE JUST BEEN PRESENTED WITH FERMAT'S LAST FUCKING THEOREM YOU SET OF INDUSTRIAL-GRADE CUNTBUBBLES.
We're not alone. i just found this: www.ihatestevewright.com/
(Thu 4th Feb 2010, 13:29, More)