Celebrities part II
Five years ago, we asked if you've ever been rude to a celebrity, or have been on the receiving end of a Z-List TV chef's wrath. By popular demand, it's back - if you have beans, spill them.
( , Thu 8 Oct 2009, 13:33)
Five years ago, we asked if you've ever been rude to a celebrity, or have been on the receiving end of a Z-List TV chef's wrath. By popular demand, it's back - if you have beans, spill them.
( , Thu 8 Oct 2009, 13:33)
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Enzyme has reminded me...
I did my undergrad degree in Edinburgh. During the festival it's open season for celeb spotting and I fear I may be spending a while on this one.
One night I was drinking in the Pleasance Bar with some friends. It being my round, I wobbled across the cobbles towards the purveyors of finest bottled Japanese lager. I say wobbled, it was partly the drink talking and partly the fact that I had rather smashing platform sandals on. I should point out that I'm not a small girl. Indeed, wearing said footwear, all told I was probably round about the 6'3" mark.
As I make my way back from the bar, clutching my delicious hop based beverage, without warning, a man walks straight into me and stumbles back on the courtyard.
As I helped him up, I realised the issue was that he was very, very short. Essentially, the hapless fool had careered straight into my bosom and bounced back like a man diving head first into a tit trampoline.
The woman he was with glared at me, and hissed "Come ON, Ronnie..." which was when I worked out that the chap who had not 2 minutes hence had his head wedged between my norks was none other than Britain's premier anecdote-telling golf obsessed dwarf, Mr Ronnie Corbett.
I still shudder at the memory. Or should that be mammary?
( , Fri 9 Oct 2009, 13:32, 5 replies)
I did my undergrad degree in Edinburgh. During the festival it's open season for celeb spotting and I fear I may be spending a while on this one.
One night I was drinking in the Pleasance Bar with some friends. It being my round, I wobbled across the cobbles towards the purveyors of finest bottled Japanese lager. I say wobbled, it was partly the drink talking and partly the fact that I had rather smashing platform sandals on. I should point out that I'm not a small girl. Indeed, wearing said footwear, all told I was probably round about the 6'3" mark.
As I make my way back from the bar, clutching my delicious hop based beverage, without warning, a man walks straight into me and stumbles back on the courtyard.
As I helped him up, I realised the issue was that he was very, very short. Essentially, the hapless fool had careered straight into my bosom and bounced back like a man diving head first into a tit trampoline.
The woman he was with glared at me, and hissed "Come ON, Ronnie..." which was when I worked out that the chap who had not 2 minutes hence had his head wedged between my norks was none other than Britain's premier anecdote-telling golf obsessed dwarf, Mr Ronnie Corbett.
I still shudder at the memory. Or should that be mammary?
( , Fri 9 Oct 2009, 13:32, 5 replies)
hehe
clicking, especially for ``bounced back like a man diving head first into a tit trampoline''
( , Fri 9 Oct 2009, 14:27, closed)
clicking, especially for ``bounced back like a man diving head first into a tit trampoline''
( , Fri 9 Oct 2009, 14:27, closed)
I bet he thinks about you every time he spanks Little Ronnie.
(Or is that Littler Ronnie?)
You should feel honoured.
( , Fri 9 Oct 2009, 15:03, closed)
(Or is that Littler Ronnie?)
You should feel honoured.
( , Fri 9 Oct 2009, 15:03, closed)
You sound like my kind of woman
Tall, and with a rack like a trampoline. Win win in my books! :o)
( , Thu 15 Oct 2009, 12:52, closed)
Tall, and with a rack like a trampoline. Win win in my books! :o)
( , Thu 15 Oct 2009, 12:52, closed)
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