Profile for Chairman Lmao:
Hooray for b3ta.
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Hooray for b3ta.
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» Sexism
Tits
Women. When wearing a revealing upper-garment, please refrain from taking offence should you find us gentlemen gazing upon the majesty of your generous bosom. If you want men to talk directly to your face, kindly consider wearing a polar-neck, bubble-jacket, or perhaps some 19th century diving equipment.
Nice one.
(Sun 27th Dec 2009, 16:05, More)
Tits
Women. When wearing a revealing upper-garment, please refrain from taking offence should you find us gentlemen gazing upon the majesty of your generous bosom. If you want men to talk directly to your face, kindly consider wearing a polar-neck, bubble-jacket, or perhaps some 19th century diving equipment.
Nice one.
(Sun 27th Dec 2009, 16:05, More)
» Vomit Pt2
Glastonbury
Now, you may think that a trip to Glastonbury would be full of vomit-related hilarity, however, being of a collectively strong gastric constitution, my friends and I escaped the muddy hell-hole of fancy wellies and unused cooking paraphernalia without so much as a hiccup.
The horror occurred on the dreaded post-festival coach ride. It was warm, very warm (like being in a forest with Heather Locklear) and the journey was to take us all the way to Manchester. It was the usual collection of poor folk with the mandatory soul-ache that comes with a few days of merriment away from the prying eyes of the law.
Having gotten a little bit sunburnt, my friend had applied after-sun lotion. Pretty smart you may think, but combined with being unwashed this left her smelling a little funky. Like nappies. This did not sit well with the kid sat next to her on the coach. Oh no. The delightful young cherub turned and un-ate his lunch all over her.
This did not improve the journey.
(Sat 9th Jan 2010, 17:47, More)
Glastonbury
Now, you may think that a trip to Glastonbury would be full of vomit-related hilarity, however, being of a collectively strong gastric constitution, my friends and I escaped the muddy hell-hole of fancy wellies and unused cooking paraphernalia without so much as a hiccup.
The horror occurred on the dreaded post-festival coach ride. It was warm, very warm (like being in a forest with Heather Locklear) and the journey was to take us all the way to Manchester. It was the usual collection of poor folk with the mandatory soul-ache that comes with a few days of merriment away from the prying eyes of the law.
Having gotten a little bit sunburnt, my friend had applied after-sun lotion. Pretty smart you may think, but combined with being unwashed this left her smelling a little funky. Like nappies. This did not sit well with the kid sat next to her on the coach. Oh no. The delightful young cherub turned and un-ate his lunch all over her.
This did not improve the journey.
(Sat 9th Jan 2010, 17:47, More)
» Celebrity Encounters III
Freaky Dancin'
I worked in my local Tesco, about eleven years ago. It was shit.
On a lighter note, I once served Bez and he was apparently smashed out of his gourd. It took him a good minute to count his change.
P.S. I also served Helen Baxendale, she didn't look half as sexy as she does on telly.
(Thu 5th Dec 2013, 18:51, More)
Freaky Dancin'
I worked in my local Tesco, about eleven years ago. It was shit.
On a lighter note, I once served Bez and he was apparently smashed out of his gourd. It took him a good minute to count his change.
P.S. I also served Helen Baxendale, she didn't look half as sexy as she does on telly.
(Thu 5th Dec 2013, 18:51, More)
» Workplace Boredom
Every little helps...
I was a checkout monkey during college. I felt my soul ebbing away with every monotonous beep.
My friends and I made a game known as Pleasure, Laughs Unlimited which involved the P.L.U. (fruit and veg) list and a top-trumps style heirarchy of obscure fruits and vegetables. When one was shouted, the first monkey to reel-off the P.L.U. number won!
Like I said, endless joy. I think I've managed to re-grow most of my soul in the 7 years since I left.
Sincerely,
(Fri 9th Jan 2009, 5:55, More)
Every little helps...
I was a checkout monkey during college. I felt my soul ebbing away with every monotonous beep.
My friends and I made a game known as Pleasure, Laughs Unlimited which involved the P.L.U. (fruit and veg) list and a top-trumps style heirarchy of obscure fruits and vegetables. When one was shouted, the first monkey to reel-off the P.L.U. number won!
Like I said, endless joy. I think I've managed to re-grow most of my soul in the 7 years since I left.
Sincerely,
(Fri 9th Jan 2009, 5:55, More)