Free CD bonanza
A bit of a geeky one this… I'm still (6 years on) barred from buying anything from Amazon.co.uk, when I enter my address it mysteriously says it's not valid.

It's been doing this ever since I managed to order many many hundreds of pounds, possibly more, worth of CDs from them for nothing over a short space of time. Remember that email service that had all sorts of humorous domain names for you to choose from? Funmail.com if memory serves me correctly, this is going back a few years so my memory's a bit hazy.

They had a sign up offer which gave you a free £5 voucher for use on Amazon, it generated a string of letters that you then typed into Amazon and £5 was added to your account. Stupidly they forgot to put any sort of 'one per address' restriction on, so anything costing less than a fiver was free. Lots of CD singles turning up at the house.

The next stage came with the realisation that when you bought something for less than a fiver the balance was credited to your Amazon account. This was during the Sophie Ellis Bextor & Groovejet / Victoria Beckham & Dane Bowers chart battle, so they were selling those CDs for £1.99

We wrote a script that signed up multiple accounts to Funmail and harvested the voucher codes, it was then a simple matter of plugging those into Amazon and ordering 1.99 CDs until enough money was in the account to buy an album (I still have several hundred Groovejet CDs somewhere, if anyone's interested?)

Lather, rinse, repeat, and for a period of several weeks there was a big box from Amazon waiting on the doormat every morning. I told my mum it was 'a special offer', only bending the truth slightly. Didn't take all that long for them to clock on, change the terms of the offer and ban me, but by that point I had more or less legitimately got myself a rather fine CD collection.

I like to think that this contributed to the fact that shortly afterwards Funmail started charging for their service, but I can't be sure!

The weirdest thing is Amazon have never officially told me I'm barred, it just won't let me order anything...
(Son of Sam-i-am We're all as mad as hatters here, Tue 5 Sep 2006, 15:48, Reply)

Supermarket
I was barred from a supermarket in Croydon once.

I hate food shopping so I came up with a nifty plan to avoid it. I called it "Zen Shopping".

I'd go into a supermarket and lurk in the aisles. Eventually someone would abandon their trolley while they went running off to get some last-minute item they'd forgotten and I'd pounce on their trolley and wheel it to a checkout and pay for it. A weeks shopping done in a few minutes.

Sadly though I eventually got caught by an eagle-eyed manager and was banned for life. Apparently they'd had quite a few complaints from irate shoppers and had been watching for me.

Curses!
( Legless Mister Stabby - shanks for the memory, Thu 31 Aug 2006, 12:44, Reply)

Bonjour Monsieur
Banned for 1 year from the Eurostar when me and some mates decided it would be a "bit of a giggle" to wet our hair and shirts and run down the corridor shouting "It's Leaking!!!"
Teenage girls, wet and running in a bouncy way, you'd have thought we'd have been given free passes for life after all of the executive stress relief we gave that day. No justice.

Girth adequate, Length Enjoyable.
( Ethel Le Crisp, Fri 1 Sep 2006, 1:33, Reply)

My best mate Colin

is barred from his mothers bedroom, especially when she has 'male friends' visiting for the night.

We did venture into the 'bedroom of forbidence' one time though when I was round his house, and may I say that his mother has the finest array of dildos and most impressive collection of vibrators I have ever seen.

We probably would have gotten away with his mother ever knowing we had been in there if it wasn't for the fact I used some of her handcuffs to tie Colin to the bed then left to go home leaving him there until his mother got home.

In my opinion, the piece de resistance was the whipped cream I left on his nipples and the chocolate body spread I used to draw a little face on his stomach.

I've no idea how she reacted, I'm not allowed to visit anymore.
(Lt Columbo, Sat 2 Sep 2006, 23:37, Reply)

Pub standardness
I was barred from a pub for inappropriate use of the pub quiz sheet.

What's the capital of Denmark? The answer is...

Michael Cooper (the quizmaster) felches his mum and blows dead goats.

First time I've been barred from a pub by text message, too.
(ElectricMonk is falling awake on, Wed 6 Sep 2006, 13:00, Reply)

burger barred
been reading this site for yonks, and thought it was about time i added my own inane ramblings

burger king drive thru, kingsway dundee

after spending some considerable time at the window expectantly looking over for the delivery of our whoppers, the rotund monster eventually came through with our order.

"sorry about your wait", says she

"sorry about your weight, you fat cunt", replies I

"yous are barred", says she

from the fucking drive through?

went back next week

nae bother
(blartboy, Tue 5 Sep 2006, 10:33, Reply)

Balls!
I was barred for life, at the age of seventeen, from the kiddies' play zone in the Coral Island (giant, hideous amusement arcade on Blackpool front) twice in one evening.

I'm not clear how it began, but it was back in the days when i still wore heels occasionally, so I suspect the bright and squashy foam bench things had proved a sight too tempting for my whisky-addled, swollen-footed self as my friend and I took a short cut through the arcade on the route round town. So sat we did, and in our sparkly be-trannyed finery, we caught the attention of a couple of the dwarfish ADHD-addled chavspawn who had been chucked in the play area while their parents downed blue WKDs at the bar. The next thing I knew, I was knee-deep in balls, laughing manically and lobbing the coloured projectiles with as much force and accuracy as half a bottle of scotch will allow at the tiny ASBOs. Very soon after, me and my friend were being escorted off the premises by some spotty herbert in a polo shirt and informed that we had earned ourselves a life ban. He took our photos. He took our details "for the manager's record." I have just remembered that I tried to give my name as "Mrs Crabstick", but was unable to keep from snorting with laughter at my own joke.

Now for some reason, I decided to take umbrage at this, and according to said poor friend, after howling wildly about "civil rights" at the glass door, and stamping about for ten minutes in a sniffy fit of "how dare they ban ME,"-style pique, I INSISTED that we should strike a blow against the evil profiteering scumbag corporate rat-bastards by trying to sneak back in through the other door and "staging a protest." And, by the old but infallible disguise method of switching coats and practically crawling along the floor under thr reception counter, we made it. We were there. And, once again, I made a wavering but determined line for the ball pool. My halfling adversaries were waiting, already beginning to shriek, balls firmly in hand.

"Right, you shysty wee crotch-pheasants," thought I, "prepare yourselves for Ballageddon." I strode on up. I clambered in. The barrage began, but as I grabbed my first round of assault grenades, a blurry shape appeared at the corner of my vision. It was the herbert. Once again, I was reprimanded, shouted at, and re-banned, or rather, "Mrs Crabstick" was. It was all pretty ridiculous. I don't know what had got into me that night. Or rather, I do, and so do the employees of the Coral Island circa '99, for as the herbert lunged to grab my arm and pull me out of the ball pool, I stumbled forward, swayed dramatically, gave a hearty belch, and puked all over my own legs.


Cock, etc.
(jennymnemonic, Mon 4 Sep 2006, 20:58, Reply)

Canary the Compulsive Liar
Back when I was 19, I worked in a pub in Pontefract, which is known locally as Ponte Carlo as being stuffed full of far too many bars. I worked in one of the trendier ones (well, it served paninnis) which had a prestigious late licence and did £1 a drink Tuesdays. Thus, the bar was packed.

Now, we had a 'relief manager' for 2 weeks known to the staff as 'canary', because he never, ever changed his clothes, especially the bright yellow shirt he clearly thought attracted the ladies. He was Southern, and a total cock. Clearly lied about his salary (he slept on the dirty old staff sofa to avoid staying in a hotel), his prowess with women (he was 5 foot tall), and he was generally a slimy letch.

It was so busy that when I reached through the crowd to pass him a stack of empty pint glasses (he was 'helping out' by stacking the pot washer) they impacted and broke. He went, for some reason, apeshit (could be the fact I turned down his pathetic sexual advances the day before). Told me to get out, I was fired, and barred from the pub forever (harsh I know, I was more upset at losing £1 a drink Tuesday than my job). I stormed off. Well I called him a cockney twat and stormed off.

The next day I came in to collect my stuff. My regular boss had been called in because the night before had been a shambles (since I was the only one collecting glasses, they ran out, and when they'd run out of bottles too, people had deserted the bar.) Canary had a bandage on his hand and kept repeating how I'd nearly severed his thumb and I was a liability. After pointing out to my boss all of canary's 'truth issues' I proceeded to rip the bandage off his hand. No cut.

I was reinstated, and canary was fired. And barred. Bwahaha!
(Northern Lovely, Fri 1 Sep 2006, 14:19, Reply)

Early Learning Centre, Buchanan St, Glasgow
Apparently the ball pool was for toddlers only. :(
(Chanticleer, kept, awkwardly, pausing, on, Thu 31 Aug 2006, 13:53, Reply)

Out! Get out!
Nearly 5 years ago I was with a youth group touring round Israel, seeing sights, being taken to see monumental buildings, hiking through the desert and other fun stuff. One of the highlights was getting to go to the supreme court, see the building, how the law worked and see courts in session.

We were the 'infamous' group - group 2.

We were ushered into the building by our group leaders, ad then a tour guide came and greeted us. She was French - she asked us where we were all from, and we all shouted out various English locations, Leeds, Manchester, London...I can't remember exactly how it happened, but she made an anti-English joke. We responded with an anti-French joke, and it carried on from there. Already boisterous 16 years olds were whipped into patriotic madness.

We eventually got to the courtrooms.By this time we were somewhat calmer, and we were told in the strictest terms that we must keep absolutely silent during the proceedings. We did...but then one of our leaders mobile phones rang! We were quickly ejected from the room, and bundled ino an empty courtroom. Frenchy then left us alone in the room. This was, in hindsight, not the best idea.

Spurred on by our leaders, we took to the judges chairs, played with the microphones, and held a mock trial, where the accused was being charged with gross indecency and stealing of milkybars and last rolos. Two kids started to climb up the witness stand and get on top of it, and everyone was shouting and laughing. Frenchy came back.

She stared for a moment in dumb horror at what we were doing to the courtroom, and then screamed "Out! All of you, get out!". She turned into a small whirlwind and booted us out, leading throught he corridors the hysterics crying that shed be sacked for sure and she couldn't believe what we'd done.

We were hencforth banned from the Supreme Court. So were all the other groups in our organisation. We were ashamed, and yet stragely impressed. In any case, she'd started it.

This year, I went back to the Supreme Court with a far smaller group, girls only from the US, Canada, France and the UK. The tourguide greeted us - she was originally from North London and had a heavy accent. "So" she said, "Have any of you been to the Supreme Court before?"

I tentatively raised my hand

"I have, but, um, I didn't really get to see all that much of it, you see we got kicked out..."
"Oh yes! Group 2, right?"

They remembered us!
( Hampster Squared has stuff at www.tilla.co.uk, Thu 31 Aug 2006, 13:26, Reply)

Manchester University
Student Union. Kicked out and barred for taking the piss out of one of the bouncers.

This bouncer was enourmously fat so me and a bunch of mates were standing in the bar drinking and everytime he did his rounds we'd watch for him. Everytime he took a step we'd do a little jump, exactly in time to his steps. Barmaid was wetting herslef laughing but bouncer didn't see it as funny.

So it was out on my arse - again.....
( Legless Mister Stabby - shanks for the memory, Thu 31 Aug 2006, 12:50, Reply)

While on a canal holiday
Stopped off and went for a wonder. Got lost.

Came to this pub and thought I'd ask for directions. As soon as I walked to the bar the barman said "What can I get you?"
I thought, this is very welcoming and said "I'll have a pint of lager please."
"£2" the barman requested.
"I thought you were buying me a drink." said I, "I was only going to ask for directions, I've got no money with me."
"Well since I've poured it, you can have this one and after that I never want to see you in here again." Said the rather angry barman.

Two days later I wondered off and found the same pub. I entered and the barman said "You're not allowed in here anymore."
"I've never been here before mate," I lied.
"You must have a double then." said the barman.
I replied, "Oh in that case, I'll have a double whiskey."
(losinx, Wed 6 Sep 2006, 18:42, Reply)

My brother, Mustaffa Al-Jazeera,

is banned from Tynemouth swimming pool for bombing in the deep end.
(Lt Columbo, Mon 4 Sep 2006, 17:25, Reply)

Nope, but but I've banned a few in my time.....
If memory serves me correctly, I have not been banned from anywhere to date. That I remember. I have, however had the great pleasure of banning many erstwhile patrons from various drinking establishments, in my role of bar manager/duty manager/and once just by pretending to work in this pub where some muppet was giving myself and sundry others a potentially violently hard time. In one of the former roles, though, one bright spark got some legal advice and came over all technical on me.

Let's call him Dave (because everyone else does). I tossed Dave out of my bar one Friday night basically because he was a tool that nobody liked who annoyed several of my other regular patrons regularly after a certain stage of inebriation and despite being a champion drinker was, on balance, bad for business. Besides, we were pretty sure that it was he and a few of his scaly mates that had broken into the back area in the wee small hours three weeks previously and emptied a large chest freezer of a couple of thousand dollars worth of seafood we had layed in for a huge Xmas dinner. It should be noted that this bar is in the middle of a very rural area of Australia, 25 kms from the nearest town (and other watering hole) so being banned not onle pissed dave off, it was a tad inconvenient for him, as he couldn't really show his face in said town due to similar prior acts of petty criminality (ALLEDGED criminality).

Poor Dave. But Smart Dave! Dave discovers by using the skills of his young nephew and the mighty interweb that one can only technically ban someone from a drinking establishment in Australia for 24 hours, unless you go to court to do so. Can you see what's coming?

Silly Dave. Here he comes next Friday evening, all swaggery across the carpark and up to the bar. "You're banned Dave, piss off..." "nope, because this piece of legislation (waves piece of paper, blah, blah) says you can only ban me for 24 hours". Small, thoughful silence. "Right, piss off you're banned. See you tomorrow."

To his credit he came back Saturday (banned again), Sunday(again), Monday(yep, banned), Tuesday(etc)....and then I didn't see him for days. Last I ever saw of him on the premises was as he was driving past in his busted-arse old farm ute, and seemingly as an afterthought throws out the anchors in a great cloud of dust, marches up towards the door like he's going to kill someone, and....stops. Looks at me, turns around, and leaves. I probably would have banned him again too - he wasn't wearing shoes.
(dadadali has hybrid vigour, Sat 2 Sep 2006, 9:46, Reply)

Would you like pineapple on that?
I managed to get barred from a Hawaiian theme pub in Long Beach, near Los Angeles. When asked did I have any ID, I produced my passport, only to be told that it wasn't valid identification for proving my age. I politely asked what would be valid ID, to which I was told it had to be a California state driving licence. "Why?" I questioned. "Because it has your height and weight on it as well as a picture," was the response. "But that's ludicrous," I reasoned, "this is a passport, it got me into the country." "Ah," came the reply, "but how do we know it's yours?" "Beacause it has my picture on," I smiled. "But that could be your sister." "I don't have a sister" "But we don't know that." "But why would I be using her passport?" "Well, you might not be 21." "But I could use her driving license." "But it would have your height and weight on." "But surely if I look similar enough to be able to get away with using my non-existent sister's passport, risking being deported just so I could buy a drink, then there might be the slightest possibility that we may be the same height and weight and therefore I could also use her driving license?" "I'm sorry madam, we're going to have to ask you to leave. And not come back." "Fine, I'll go and drink warm, piss weak lager somewhere else then."

And I did. So there. Bet that showed 'em.
(Rakky (forgot her password) The muffin maverick, Fri 1 Sep 2006, 16:01, Reply)

I got barred from the Cambridge beer festival
There is a chap called Shaun who works at the festival and has a very silly hat with lots of badges on it.

I was a bit pissed and was standing at the glass stall stealing glasses and then trying to sell them back straight away. It was all good natured until Shaun rocks up.

Says I, can I make a comment on your hat? No you fscking can't says Shaun. An argument then ensued about why I couldn't make a comment on his hat. Over the tannoy, we heard "trouble at the glass collection, trouble at the glass collection". I looked up and saw 2 massive fat 'security' guys waddling over towards us as fast as their chubby legs could carry them. I was then frog marched out and told never to come back.

The next year I went back and they recognised me, but they couldn't remember why, so they were dead friendly to me. On the final night, I saw Shaun standing at the exit, so just as I was leaving, I asked "can I make a comment on your hat?". "Sure" says he. I says "It makes you look like a fucking cunt" and ran.
(thrain, Fri 1 Sep 2006, 13:24, Reply)

I was barred from the British National Party
for not being a toffy-nosed, one-eyed, Richard Nixon impersonating neo-Nazi tubbyguts.


(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Tue 5 Sep 2006, 13:12, Reply)

Banned from Disneyland
for 2 whole weeks.
Started dating a guy, we smoked a bunch of pot (don't do it now, though).
Went to Disneyland (it's only a half hour away), and the last ride we were going on was Splash Mountain - log ride thingy.
When we got to the top before the last big dip to get soaked, I flashed my boobs for the camera.
Security kicked us out with "this is a family park blah blah". To this day I stil search for that picture online...if anyone's seen my norks, please let me know.
( Batshitmentalist is sane for once, Sun 3 Sep 2006, 8:39, Reply)

Call that a pub?
Some uni mates and I went off to the Lloyds Bar in St Albans for a few jars, hoping to enjoy the reasonable prices we have all come to know and love from the J D Weatherspoons chain of public houses (and get totally shitted (technical term)).

On arrival we see a sign proudly displaying the following:

"No Trainers
No Smoking througout."

Balls to the bouncers, we barred ourselves.
Call that a pub? Pah!
(Chester Elegante ........ladies., Fri 1 Sep 2006, 17:31, Reply)

Kiespike
You're just the sort of person I'd like to meet on a dark night when I'm in a bad mood.

There's mischief and there's mean - guess where you belong?

/OB Story

Whe I was 15 I was kicked out of English lit and never allowed back. We were supposed to be studying Chaucers Prologue To The Canterbury Tales but it was shit. So I grabbed a book off the bookshelf and put it inside my copy of Chaucer and read that instead. Then the teacher said:

"Legless - read aloud from the top of the page please..."

So I started...

"And Noddy said to Bigears......."

"OUT!! - And don't come back....."

No sense of humor, some people.....

Cheers
( Legless Mister Stabby - shanks for the memory, Fri 1 Sep 2006, 11:54, Reply)

Oh the hilarity
It was during my university days I got banned from my local for the following offences.

Asking the barmaid if I could put her titty milk in my beer.

Asking the barman if I could put his titty milk in my beer

Getting my willy out putting on an (attempted) Irish accent and saying "Hello der barman im a penis, I was wondering if I could have a slice of lemon and a jacket potato." (It was funny at the time.)

Licking my hairy (male) friends belly button in front of all the other customers.

Going outside only to return with a discarded umbrella which i maintaned was Bernard the angry kitten.

It was when I asked the Barman if he and his blouse bunnies were up for a good time that finally got me thrown out.
The last laughs on him though, because I pooed in the sink shortly before leaving.
( Paedosmile service with a grin., Thu 31 Aug 2006, 23:16, Reply)

I've been barred from getting a taxi from the rank at Birmingham International train station
but it wasn't my fault.

The bus to work didn't turn up, so I had to get a taxi. When we arrived the fare was £6.70 so I whipped out a twenty. He looked at me like I was mental.

"I can't change that." he glowered.
"Eh?"
"I haven't got change of a twenty."

Bear in mind that this was about 8 o'clock in the morning, so I was more than a little confused by this. A taxi driver that doesn't have 13 quid on him. Made more confusing as he was working from the station so most useful journeys (into Brum for the tourist/daft businessperson) from there would have been more than £20, so he'd have been fucked anyway as he obviously didn't have any more than £13.30 on him.

"I haven't got anything smaller. I've just been to the bank." I told him.
He scowled "Well, I can't change it."
"There isn't really anything else I can do. I would have thought you would have had change."
He then informed me that he was "not a bank, mate".
Still feeling a bit confused I asked him what he suggested I do. I was expecting to ask if I had a credit card, or if he could have my name and address or something. I have no idea what to do in such a situation. I was therefore taken aback when he informed me of his ingenious solution to our dilemma.

"I suggest you don't pay, get out and never get in my taxi again."
"Pardon?"
"Get out. I'll make sure I spread the word around the rank. Don't expect to get a taxi from there again."
"But... I've got the money. It's in my hand."
Silence.

So I'm barred from using the taxi rank but I saved the bus fare.

On the off chance that that taxi driver is reading this, I carry £6.70 with me every day when I walk past the rank (mainly to make me feel smug), so you can have the money if you want it.
( Bingowings 2011 Businessman of the Year (Watford Branch), Wed 6 Sep 2006, 19:35, Reply)

I've been barred from my old school grounds...
When I was wee I went to a very sheltered little convent school, where everything was all girls and it was the biggest shock of the century if somebody kissed a boy.Far from being the horse-riding type, or the sleepovers and makeovers type, I didnt exactly fit in. After my GCSEs I went to your average high school to do my a-levels and entered my "rebelious" phase, where I wore ridiculously large trousers and ditched everything my dad and Peelie had taught me and started to listen to Korn and Limp Bizkit. Oh the shame.

I was having such a great time being young and angry I started to resent my previous education a bit, so when they sent me a form to fill in asking me what I was up to, what my old classmates and teachers were up to and so on, I just couldnt miss the opportunity. I wrote the nastiest reply I could. I wrote of how I was failing my A levels and it was ALL THEIR FAULT, I wrote of how half my old classmates were pregnant, I even wrote of how our old RE teacher was getting a divorce, and that that wasnt very christian at all. I was pure evil to their ears.

They wrore me a letter back explaining that they were very dissapointed in me, and that they would not fail to take legal action if they ever caught me using their grounds as a throughfare again (added and extra 5 minutes on my journey to college). They sent a copy to my mum, who after making me write an apology burst into the giggles and said she was really quite proud actually. Then a few weeks later I heard from a friend that the afforementioned RE teacher had lost his faith.

So proud.
( SugarSpunSister Yeah, whatever, Mon 4 Sep 2006, 0:59, Reply)

I've not been barred from anywhere.
But if I ran a pub, club, or other establishment, and you acted up as your stories suggest, I'd ban you too.
( Bats, Sun 3 Sep 2006, 20:36, Reply)

I'm no longer allowed in Ikea

because someone saw me getting wood in one of the aisles.
(Lt Columbo, Fri 1 Sep 2006, 23:47, Reply)

Trainers, No. Baseball bat, yes!
Door staff sometimes have reasons for the apparently odd things they do. Once I had been playing softball with a friend and we decided that a few pints were the next agenda item.

This was shortly after I had cut my hair down to a number 2 for the first (and only) time in my life. My hair is blonde and relatively fine ,so it looked like I was a complete skinhead, was quite thuggish and not really me.

I was wearing motorcycle boots, a leather jacket and was carrying what was obviously a baseball bat in a bag. On trying to get into a pub the doorman let me in but refused entry to my friend - "trainers mate, sorry, can't let you in". I was already at the bar and about to order - I went back when I realised that my friend was still outside - on finding out that he wasn't getting in, we went elsewhere.

For ages I thought that that event was a bit odd - skinhead with a baseball bat, fine let him in. Bloke wearing trainers, barred. Doesn't make sense at first but I have since had it explained to me - the more savvy door security types know that it's easier to avoid grief by barring entry to the friends of the idiot they *don't* want in their place, rather than giving some overly aggressive little twerp the tiny excuse they think justifies the subsequent need to make a complete twat of themself. If the door staff do it right the group toddles off with little or no confrontation and all is fine; it worked perfectly on us without us realising we were being manipulated.
(Wascally Weasel now with 100% fewer jokes., Fri 1 Sep 2006, 16:42, Reply)

Bigger than all of you put together

In 1999/2000 the insurance company I worked for merged with another of roughly the same size. In order to create one huge company with a common brand identity, it was decided to hold a series of four full day ‘brand events’ in the Birmingham Exhibition Centre or whatever it’s called. Over the four consecutive days, one quarter of all staff would attend to meet ‘the other lot’ and have a fun day of branding nonsense. Billeting was in about four local business hotels.

Those that went on day one didn’t know what to expect, nor did those on day two. I was due to go on day three and we got to hear about it from the day-oners. We found out there was a free bar in the evening before the meal.

The event part of the day included a Q&A session led by none other than Michael Buerk of BBC fame, and the evening entertainment was Alistair MacGowan.

Now, when you work for an insurance company there are few perks. 13% discount on your insurance plus as many paperclips as you can palm doesn’t do it for most people, so the prospect of free booze was not to be missed….and it wasn’t. We started with bottles of beer, but found that the bar-staff were not stingy when we asked for spirits, so, in the hour before the meal, I managed about four bottles of bud and four very large scotches. Each table had ample bottles of red and white wine to go with the meal as well…

…my last memory is dirty dancing with a foxy lady from the helpline to the live band, and I vaguely remember spraying my bathroom with shit and vomit, though no idea how I got back to the hotel. Needless to say, I passed on the breakfast and only just made it back to the coach for a nightmare four hour journey home.

The upshot was that the WHOLE COMPANY was barred from Birmingham – apparently there was some serious abuse of room service, copulating couples in the bushes, vomit-a-plenty and other disgusting behaviour too shocking to ever be revealed.

Six or seven years on, people still talk fondly about those days, even though all the branding stuff was shelved when we merged yet again two years later.

[Off topic: ‘Quote me Happy’ – who can think up other 3-word phrases in this format, i.e. ‘imperative verb – pronoun – adjective’. My best efforts are ‘Fuck me Stupid’, ‘Suck me Silly’ and ‘Paint me Orange’. Answers on a post please]

DAMN – there goes all my credibility, still, at least you now know why I’m heading for a mid-life crisis.
(Che Grimsdale Best before:, Fri 1 Sep 2006, 13:15, Reply)

Slow but satisfying
I managed to get myself barred from my primary school tuckshop at the advanced age of 9.

You may recoil in horror at my heinous crime. I blush to recall it even after almost 30 years, and have spent countless hours on my knees in search of absolution. Read on only if not of a nervous disposition:

The Head himself told the teacher in charge of the tuckshop not to serve me again because... I TOOK TOO LONG TO DRINK A DINKY BOTTLE OF GINGER POP AT BREAKTIME.

Despite my strenuous defence that I'd be in even bigger doo-doo had I burped through my next lesson, the punishment stood and I was never again allowed to drink from the well of ginger fizz.

It was crap pop anyway.
(cisco, Thu 31 Aug 2006, 22:24, Reply)

Some pub in Stratford on Avon
Barred on NYE about 1998. The landlady had wrapped all the pictures, 'nik naks', even the fucking fireplace (good lord) in wrapping paper to make them look like presents.
We unwrapped the lot in the space of about 3 minutes. The poor dear was crying as she chucked us out.
I was the only one of us who lived there: I tried to go back about 6 months later and she immediately ran out from behind the bar and started hitting me. No sense of hummus, some people.
(kidcamel is due to call your mum at, Thu 31 Aug 2006, 16:10, Reply)

Multiple barrings - Seaforth Ullapool
Got barred as a teenager from the same pub for: 3 months - pretending to be a dog and biting the straight headed manager. Allowed back in and did lobster impression (on bar) and pinched him - 3 months again... After another chance in, I spotted him watching me sitting with my shopping so sat a carrot on a stool next to me and started buying it drinks, which everyone picked up on and joined in. The carrot ended up with 18 vodka and cokes and I ended up barred for life. Took 2 years of begging to get allowed back in. Lasted 2 months before we set a firework off in the chip shop next door so got barred for life again. This time he stuck to his word for 5 years before my brother bought the pub and he left. And we all drink happily ever after!
(klondyker, Thu 31 Aug 2006, 13:32, Reply)