Cringe!
Chickenlady winces, "I told a Hugh Grant/Divine Brown joke to my dad, pretending that Ms Brown was chewing gum so she'd be more American. Instead I just appeared to be still giving the blow-job. Even as I'm writing this I'm cringing inside."
Tell us your cringeworthy stories of embarrassment. Go on, you're amongst friends here...
( , Thu 27 Nov 2008, 18:58)
Chickenlady winces, "I told a Hugh Grant/Divine Brown joke to my dad, pretending that Ms Brown was chewing gum so she'd be more American. Instead I just appeared to be still giving the blow-job. Even as I'm writing this I'm cringing inside."
Tell us your cringeworthy stories of embarrassment. Go on, you're amongst friends here...
( , Thu 27 Nov 2008, 18:58)
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Boney M
Now, Boney M are fairly cringeworthy in themselves but there's a guy called Pete somewhere in this world who will damn their miming for ever more.
Fast backwards to 1992 and I'm working in Gloucester. It's summer, and as usual all the admin staff have buggered off to Butlins at Minehead at the same time so we hire in a temp.
And what a temp! Beautiful, witty, intelligent, charming, stunning figure...ooh, everything a boy could possibly want. Even Fray Bentos the office shirtlifter was heard to remark that if he was straight he'd go for her.
Most importantly, she's of mixed race and is just about the colour of your favourite chocolate bar (unless you're the Milky Bar kid.)
Friday nights saw us invariably in the pub over the road for "a couple", which usually resulted in the landlady propelling us out with the mop she'd just swilled out the urinals with at a time considerably greater than last orders.
Eventually, we persuaded Jenny to come for "a couple." And against all that is good, true, right and holy she toddled off home at last orders draped around Pete.
Pete was a tall, leering Mancunian with sinister translucent hands and the ability to turn any conversation into a celebration of his misbegotten - and probably invented - sexual antics.
What a blow.
Come Monday, Jenny was allocated to our department for a week. There were five of us in the office, and two banks of six foot high filing cabinets at the back.
In comes Jenny, looking a little sheepish, but we're all gentlemen and ask her to help us with some filing, a task she gratefully accepts as she can hide in the cabinets.
Then, five minutes later, in swaggers Pete, leering from ear to ear. Never one for subtlety at the best of times, he commences to sing "Brown Girl on my cock, Tra-la la la la, had a Brown Girl...." and stops, as he realises from the expression on our faces exactly where Jenny is.
He moved to Australia shortly afterwards; he'll fit in well there....
( , Sun 30 Nov 2008, 18:37, Reply)
Now, Boney M are fairly cringeworthy in themselves but there's a guy called Pete somewhere in this world who will damn their miming for ever more.
Fast backwards to 1992 and I'm working in Gloucester. It's summer, and as usual all the admin staff have buggered off to Butlins at Minehead at the same time so we hire in a temp.
And what a temp! Beautiful, witty, intelligent, charming, stunning figure...ooh, everything a boy could possibly want. Even Fray Bentos the office shirtlifter was heard to remark that if he was straight he'd go for her.
Most importantly, she's of mixed race and is just about the colour of your favourite chocolate bar (unless you're the Milky Bar kid.)
Friday nights saw us invariably in the pub over the road for "a couple", which usually resulted in the landlady propelling us out with the mop she'd just swilled out the urinals with at a time considerably greater than last orders.
Eventually, we persuaded Jenny to come for "a couple." And against all that is good, true, right and holy she toddled off home at last orders draped around Pete.
Pete was a tall, leering Mancunian with sinister translucent hands and the ability to turn any conversation into a celebration of his misbegotten - and probably invented - sexual antics.
What a blow.
Come Monday, Jenny was allocated to our department for a week. There were five of us in the office, and two banks of six foot high filing cabinets at the back.
In comes Jenny, looking a little sheepish, but we're all gentlemen and ask her to help us with some filing, a task she gratefully accepts as she can hide in the cabinets.
Then, five minutes later, in swaggers Pete, leering from ear to ear. Never one for subtlety at the best of times, he commences to sing "Brown Girl on my cock, Tra-la la la la, had a Brown Girl...." and stops, as he realises from the expression on our faces exactly where Jenny is.
He moved to Australia shortly afterwards; he'll fit in well there....
( , Sun 30 Nov 2008, 18:37, Reply)
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