The Ginger Ninja
Back when I was about 11 or 12 the new craze in shops were those machines where you could print up your own business cards. No one could go into Woolworths or Clintons without mocking up a card that said 'Mr Tits' and then, giggling like schoolgirls all the while, cancelling it when they had to pay to get them printed. My brother decided to go one step further. He was the kind of person that didn't let being horrendously ginger get him down, more than that he actually celebrated the fact. So, he took a couple of quid of his hard earned money and actually printed himself 50 business cards with his name and phone number on, but with the added title of 'The Ginger Ninja: King Of Carnal Knowledge, Master Of The Mammories'.

Well chuffed with himself he started handing them out to all the girls at school. They laughed slightly for the first ten seconds and then generally threw them away. The inappropriately erotic part of this story refers to the phone calls he started getting just shortly afterwards. There has still been nothing funnier than watching my brother answering the phone and going bright red, as 13 year old boys tend to do, when desperate middle age women ring them up and ask how much 'The Ginger Ninja' charges to 'Master Their Mammories' and telling him in great detail how they'd like it done. Maybe I shouldn't have collected all the cards the girls at school discarded and put them in random phone boxes around the area.
( Gleeballs is mostly made out of chocolate and hate., Sat 4 Feb 2006, 8:17, Reply)