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This is a question Expensive Weekends

Chthonic says he's still reeling from a trip to a wedding that cost him nearly £600; while a friend of ours hazily presented his credit card to the bar staff in a shady club in the Baltic states. You know how that one ended.

(, Thu 13 May 2010, 13:03)
Pages: Popular, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1

This question is now closed.

FA Cup Final 2008
I'm a Cardiff City fan and was amazed to find them in the cup final that year. I also lived in Portsmouth (their opponents...) which made getting a ticket in the home end difficult. This led me to go to Cardiff the night before tickets went on general sale to sleep/freeze outside in a queue waiting for the ticket office to open.

Petrol there and back - £25
Ticket price - £55

I then had to get the train from Portsmouth (which was rammed full of pompey fans) to my old mans and then get the tube from the station.

Train ticket - £35
Tube - £12

Arrive at Wembley and then proceed to get ripped off on food, drink and a programme.

Programme - £10 (!)
Pie and a pint - £9 (!!)
4 more pints - can’t remember the price but it approaching 4 quid each (!!!)

We lost 1 - nil

I then had to get back across London to Gatwick to stay in a hotel as I was going on holiday with the missis the next day.

Hotel - £80

Total cost - around £240 and we lost the game

Would I do it again? Of course - play off final this weekend ;-)
(, Tue 18 May 2010, 13:18, 10 replies)
This one time we went to Portugal
Ahem. Misplaced my daughter somewhere, but made an absolute fortune swanning around the world asking where she was.

Not so expensive for me, but I reckon the whole thing cost various parties several mill collectively.
(, Tue 18 May 2010, 11:23, 8 replies)
11 Faggots...
...robbed my casino of $150 million one weekend.

I've got a sneaky suspicion that it was the ex of my current missus, but he's a snaky fuck and I can't prove anything yet. But I showed him - I grassed him up for violating his parole and he's back inside.

Cunt.
(, Tue 18 May 2010, 11:21, 5 replies)
My expensive weekend
I married this one legged bitch, and one weekend she said she wanted a divorce. Cost me a fortune, the fucking slapper.

P McCartney.
(, Tue 18 May 2010, 10:50, 5 replies)
This must surely be the most popular QOTW ever

(, Tue 18 May 2010, 9:24, 9 replies)
Christmas Eve sometime in the 1970s
This didn,t happen to me but I was slightly involved it goes like this.

My mate P did something in the City, I had a couple of days off before Christmas so he called would we like to meet up on Christmas Eve after he finished work which would be about 11:30am.

We meet go to pub all good and well you think.
Next lunch he's booked a table at Simpsons (even at that time mega-bucks)
Excellent lunch washed down with 3 bottles of champers.
Back to the pub where in the spirit of Christmas he bought everyone in the place a drink, not bad you think but this pub had 3 floors "ouch"
At around 4:30 in afternoon I make sure he gets to St Pancras, pissed though I am I personally ensure he is on the train to St Albans.
Get home have a lie down.
5am Christmas Day Ps mrs on the phone is he with me as he hasn't come home.
8am Christmas Day Mrs P again to let me know he has called from Sheffield.
Taxi fare from Sheffield to St Albans £800, plus he had to buy the driver a fry up.
He to this day cant remember how he ended up in Sheffield.
Merry Christmas!!!
(, Tue 18 May 2010, 7:07, Reply)
Can anyone else smell candied orange?
Many years ago I was working for a Cable TV company. We’ll call it Wellytest for the sake of argument.. Every week, we had a fire alarm test. So far, so normal.

One Friday afternoon, we had the tannoy announcement about the fire alarms were going to be tested and stay put. The alarm sounded and was shortly followed by a deep rumbling that went through the building. After a few confused looks at each other, we carried on working/skiving. Then we started to smell candied orange, like the little orange slices you get on top of fairy cakes. Cue more WTF glances at each other.

“EVERYBODY OUT!” A fire warden burst in and got us outside sharpish. It was a lovely sunny day so we all stood around in the sun, talking bollocks. Then word of what had happened went round.

The building I was in had the Switch in it. The Switch was a big room full of slowly blinking lights that somehow connect phone calls. It’s worth a lot of money so it had it’s own fire suppression system. In the event of a fire, it gives a 30 second warning to people in the room then dumps Halon gas from the ceiling. It is only triggered by fire sensors or a yellow “break glass” fire alarm box. Halon is heavier than air so it smothers the flames by getting rid of the oxygen. A side effect of this is that it’s a touch bad to breathe in so it has a smell added. Candied oranges. The system in the room had another good trick. It left a fine powder all over everything that needs to be cleaned off every surface. Including all the circuit boards inside the boxes of flashing lights. The head fire warden had used a yellow box rather than a red box to trigger the fire alarm test. This was what is technically known as a colossal fuck up.

That weekend a special crew had to come in and clean all the electronics. £20,000 is a fairly expensive weekend.

Length? 5 seconds of rumbling followed by an uncomfortable silence.
(, Tue 18 May 2010, 7:03, 1 reply)
This story fits the bill perfectly
They were many expensive weekends.

I first met her on Faceparty. I'm not going to name her.

I messaged her because she had the Cookie Monster as her profile picture and I thought this was something which warranted a message.

This message turned into a conversation which eventually ended in me catching a train from Cardiff to Norwich (leaving at 17.15 and arriving at 00.14 if memory serves me correctly) one weekend in July.

I then spent this weekend getting to know her and eventually getting to 2nd base despite me deciding to sleep on the couch the first night. (Ever the gentleman me).

After this weekend (which involved a party which she decided to let a random guy fondle her lovely tits, for a long time, but which I only found out about much, much later) we decided to go out.

This summer involved me going to see her *every* weekend because she had no money and I just wanted to see her all the time because I just liked spending time with her. Seriously- it all clicked and I thought I'd found the one.

Now this is where you'd expect it all to end. However it didn't. We really did hit it off and we ended up going out for 3 1/2 years, most of the time involved me going to see her at the weekends at her University (she went to Keele, I to Aberystwyth). Sometimes I went during the week because she insisted I went there *that* moment because I hadn't phoned her the night before.

we eventually fell in love as we had lots in common and just clicked. I honestly did see myself moving in with her one day, one glorious day which would mean that we wouldn't have to spend only a weekend together. For a weekend was never enough.

One week I returned from my weekend at hers on the Wednesday and was told on the Saturday that "things weren't working". She'd met someone at her University and decided to break up with me.

Overall the weekends cost me some money in order to see her, this I'm not bothered about.

It's the ignoring of friends and missing Uni lectures and gaining a 2:2 which was expensive. No matter how much money I get and what I do, I'll always regret ignoring my studies and my pals in pursuit of what I thought was true love.
(, Mon 17 May 2010, 23:06, 5 replies)
My wedding weekend
was the most expensive weekend of my life.

Not because of any later divorce or such like, it was just horribly, horrendously, ridiculously expensive. The wife decided she wanted the white wedding with trimmings, but we genuinely did try to keep things cheap.

We blew a little more than £10,000 on one day. Just one day. Not to mention the stress and hassle of actually organising it as well. The worst thing was that neither of us particularly enjoyed it.

To anyone out there thinking of getting married, go for it, but just get a few mates and very close family and get it over with in a registry office. Even if you have that sort of cash to spend on a wedding don't, spend it on the honeymoon :o)

I love my wife dearly and I'm so, so glad that we're married. But we both wish we could go back and not waste the money like that. It would have been very easy for the ten grand to become twenty, and just think what incredible things you could do with all that cash.
(, Mon 17 May 2010, 22:46, 4 replies)
Pets;
Im an animal lover, meet my two year old Bullmastiff;

Granted this is not a weekend but sometimes I feel events happen in my life just to correspond with B3tas QOTW, and today I wish it didn't.

Little mite started limping on her back leg.. Checked for glass or stones to no avail. Offending leg got worse, then better and now ultimately lame. So we go along to the vets and she's stretching the dogs leg more than Colleen Nolan in her 'workout' DVDs only to conclude that she most probably has a cruciate ligament rupture. My dogs not Micheal Owen in the 2006 world cup but that is not the point.. This op is most probably £2000, not an england world cup.. But for me my ill dog is far worse.

And to top that off, shes wondering around feeling sorry for herself all cuddled up with puppy dog eyes and I'm going to be the one to take her to the vets and abandon her tomorrow morning. Hopefully the xray will show a tear, if not its 3 months bed rest with a 50-80% chance of the other leg needing an operation at some point.

This is what a poorly sad dog looks like..

Length? Its between the femur and tibia, somewhere behind the patella

#edit# Poorly dog has had to have the op, will be picking her up at 2! think me and mum will be sleeping downstairs with her on alternate nights..fun fun.

##EDIT## Shes just dozy now.. 3/4 months til shes up like normal!

(, Mon 17 May 2010, 19:23, 8 replies)
birthday in blackpool
i love the fairground. love it with a passion. all those thrill rides, the junk food, the dodgy stalls and arcades, everything. so, when my 22nd birthday rolled around and saw me with £300, i decided to go to blackpool for the day with my cousin, my sister and my very young nephew.
we had an absolute ball. went on the big one, wasted a goodly amount on 2p machines, ate junk and did something i'd always wanted to do, which was take a horse-drawn carriage ride along the seafront. we were only there for the day, but i easily managed to spend the entire £300.
totaly worth it.
(, Mon 17 May 2010, 19:01, Reply)
I'm a geek/nerd....
but I've always tried to keep away from the stuff that goes with it, fall into a sun hating, roleplaying, goblin killing, computer whizz. When I've had friends come around for video gaming sessions, hid my huge RPG collection and replace it with all the crappy sports ones, shooters, and racing games. Which I don't really enjoy, but I did just so I didn't get laughed at.

Anyway, about this time last year. My neighbours (even tho they have "Blinged up" cars, and wear chav gear, they ain't too bad...in small doses) invited me around for a birthday party later on that day. Now, parties aren't my thing either, I'd rather be playing Monster Hunter Freedom 2 at that point in time, but I agree to go.

Later on, while relaxing in their house, sipping my glass of whisky (I swear I'm not normal). The wife of my neighbour gets a load of board games out, Jenga, Cluedo, crap like that...and what's on the bottom but D&D. Everyone starts laughing cos those neighbours don't seem like that. But they protest that it's alright, so for a laugh we decided to play it….there was clashes of steel, flashes of lightning, roars of delight, some thief steal loads of money (was the neighbours, it was me!!), we now play once a week.

And since then I've brought as much as I can on all the gear that goes with it (£7/8 for 6/7minitures), books that cost into near £50 and Dice! Lots of dice!...d4's, d6's, d8's, d10's, d12's, d20's and percentage dice. There are Boards, tiles and Maps to buy. Even Trees! I've spend more money on that then I have on my PS3 console. And just now, I've spent £110 on four mini's, two books and some tiles....

Still, t’is a ....*rolls 1d6+1D20, adds up, checks book*....a bloody, brilliant game.

Kiss me, I’m geeky.
(, Mon 17 May 2010, 17:46, 15 replies)
Gimme my tax back!
Came back from Iraq during the floods and got all my tax back from the 7 months away.
I had 5 weeks off too. All my mates were busy with work etc. except one who'd just been fired.

Spent about £2000 in one week just on drink, buying a dinghy to sail across some flooded fields and nice food.
We'd get in to town, I'd withdraw a hefty amount of cash and tell him "I want this all spent on drink tonight". We'd then progress to the closest, poshest bar, sit there in hoodies and baggy jeans drinking the most expensive cocktails (often ordering several at once just to try different ones).
We did save some money though. One of the barstaff gave us a £90 bottle of champers and rang it up as a £20 bottle since we'd been having a laugh with her.

This went on for a while and I don't have much to show for it now but I'm happy. I got chance to properly unwind and relax. He still got to have a good time and eat properly despite being unemployed and we both have many stories to tell.

I'm not a fan of saving. I'm not married and have no kids. If I get ran over tomorrow and died I'd be more pissed off that I had lots of money in the bank that I didn't have fun with.
(, Mon 17 May 2010, 17:12, Reply)
No drugs or booze
I was 16, decided to invest this months pay rather than the aforementioned. Spunked £250.00* on a suit. Didn't fit, as I am bad at shopping.

Length: Too long in the leg, too wide, massive jacket. Basically I was into nu-metal at the time, therefore clothing was all XXL. With suits, this makes you look like you have been made artificially 10 years younger, like with a yoof-ray or something.

* Important to note the £250.00 part, as 'spunked on a suit' makes me sound like Bill Clinton.
(, Mon 17 May 2010, 16:53, Reply)
I always find it unsettling that, when abroad, and one has been drinking in a pub for a while,
they bring you over complimentary food.
(, Mon 17 May 2010, 16:53, 4 replies)
Not as expensive as some..
One night, a few friends and I went out to a niceish wine bar. We'd all had a little too much to drink, and some of us had food. Just before we finished,I needed to go to the loo, and did.

Everyone else did a runner, and left me the bill.

So, I paid the bill, and went home about £120 more skint than I should have been.

Thankfully, when I got to work the next Monday, one of my friends stumped up most of the cash.

Then there was the time on holiday in cornwall when between three of us, we managed to spend over £100 just on beers and the odd vodka (and this was when Alcohol was *much* cheaper) in one night.
(, Mon 17 May 2010, 16:36, Reply)
Cost me several years of my life.......
Romance, they say, is dead. Not so! Harken ye to the tale of my engagement, and begin to understand ye why it didn't last.

When I was.... ooooooh, 19 I believe, myself and my then "lady" friend were invited to an 18th birthday party. I didn't know the guy, it was someone she had been to school with, but never one to refuse a shindig I toddled along with her.

While we were there, we met up with her then best friend and her fiance, the two of them having only very recently gotten engaged. Cue the obvious ring unveiling and lots of "oooh"s, "aaaah"s and "It's gorgeous".

Within about 5 minutes, the puppy dog eyes started. "That ring is lovely isn't it?"

"Yes."

"I wish I had one."

"Mm hmm."

"Get me one?"

"No."

And that's how the next two hours went. "Get me one?" "No". "Please?" "No". *Huff* *Indifference* "Pleeeeeease?" "No".

And so it should have remained. But aaaaah, dear reader, we know that it didn't. For a combination of her wearing me down gradually and several vodkas soon began to wear my patience thin. Through the warm smirnoff haze, my mind grasped on to the fact that simply agreeing to buy her a damned ring would make her happy, probably guarantee some fun times with her fantastic norks later and simultaneously end the constant whine-huff cycle that had been going on for hours.

So, on the 475th time of asking, I replied "Oh alright if it'll shut you up, I'll get you a ring." The glee on her face was unbelievable. I settled back into my chair, smothered in kisses and adulation, and awaited my soft, bouncy prize later on.

I was in such a good mood that when she asked me to dance 5 minutes later, I even agreed. I toddled up to the dance floor and commenced the walking-around-holding-on-dance. Then, before my brain finally caught up with what had actually just happened, the machinery of her plan kicked into action. The music quietened slightly, and the DJ's voice boomed over the mic. "And a big congratulations to Hazel and baw__bag, who have just announced that they are engaged!"

You know the dolly-zoom shot in jaws? That happened to me.

So, not only had she conned me into asking her to marry me whilst drunk, she had also simultaneously upstaged the poor guy whose birthday it was and stolen the limelight for herself. Again.

Don't get me wrong. We'd been together for four and a half years, engagement was on the cards anyway, but I had hoped my proposal to be a down-on-one-knee in a restaurant deal, or at least in some romantic setting, not "Oh alright if it'll shut you up". It was a warning sign that I should have heeded but didn't.

Cost? Well, the ring cost me somewhere in the region of £250 (the first one, by the time we married she'd had 3 engagement rings thanks to her whining and greed) which was a lot of money to me on the pittance I earned, but the real cost was the next eight years of my life, which I have probably mentioned far too many times already.
(, Mon 17 May 2010, 15:30, 17 replies)

Not really an expensive "weekend" as such, but a business trip to Manhattan not long back for my colleague and I obviously included extensive dinners (on expenses) and copious quantities of wine/cocktails (some on expenses and some not, depending on venue, extent of tab, how much detail appeared on the receipt etc. you know... the usual).

On the evening in question many, many Martinis had been quaffed on top of a fine steak dinner & bottle of red, and things were proceeding along nicely. The world had taken on a nice warm rosy glow, and the urge to hurl abuse at strangers and pick fights was beginning to assert itself. In short, it was a perfectly agreeable evening upon the town. :o)

As the evening wore on, the desire for a change of venue brought barked instructions to a cabbie from my colleague along lines of "take us to see naked ladies... and none of your knickers-on pish neither, somewhere PROPER!" and within a few minutes we rocked up outside a matt-black-painted building entrance in a nondescript back street somewhere. Perfectly anonymous save the rather large number of rather large tuxedo-sporting bouncers of various ethnicities hanging around outside.

The "blazing" stage had still not quite been achieved at this point, and the cab ride had aided that particular situation somewhat, but things were definitely a little vague. Walking proved to be somewhat of a struggle, which meant careful concentration was needed upon entering the club (there seemed to be flights of stairs, hanging curtains & mirrors everywhere positioned for the sole purpose of confusing the drunkard and hindering progress around the venue). In short order however drinks were ordered, seats obtained, and ladyflesh was duly ogled to the edification of all concerned.

Creditcards were forked over for gusset-cash & further beers (the spirits threshold having already been breached by this point) and a good time was had by all, until, within less than an hour of our arrival, the DJ announced the final performances, bouncers from outside stepped inside, and punters were briskly shepherded towards the door. A quick check of the watch told the story. 3am.

Having opted to walk back to the hotel (balmy New York evenings are so pleasant, and we had time on our hands), a brief inventory revealed the somewhat grave extent of our monopoly-monetary situation. Due as we were to leave the country the next day we were presented with a bit of a quandary as regards asset disposal, when at precisely that moment a 'gentleman of the road' was known to us, having struck up a slurred conversation with my colleague from his doorway across the street. Needless to say of course we pooled our resources and weighed the dear old chap in for the full amount.

I have no idea if he was able to use the "notes" in tender for smack (or whatever his preferred tincture) or food, or anything useful whatsoever. Or indeed if he possessed the wherewithal to turn up at the club the next night suitably attired for some gusset-stuffing action of his own, but no matter.

At the purchasers exchange rate of 1:1USD, he found himself richer by over a grand on the transaction anyway.

Well, you don't check the opening hours (fnarr) when the blood's up do you!
(, Mon 17 May 2010, 14:38, Reply)
this weekend
was pretty bad, in fairness. all self-inflicted, ie shopping (mostly for shoes that are so painful but so beautiful i can't really believe they mean to hurt me) and a haircut. the haircut was a massive indulgence, a luxury cut and colour. and it is quite a big change, i had quite a few inches lopped off and it is very dark indeed.

ok the cost is irrelevant, if i minded spending it, i wouldn't have spent it. simples. but has even one fucker at work noticed?! no. not even the office pervert, who notices from a different floor if you change your perfume , has commented. now i am worrying that they all think it looks shit!
(, Mon 17 May 2010, 14:01, 15 replies)
Divorce costs less than marriage!
I reckon in 4 weeks time I'll finish my divorce. I've been paying the solicitor bills along the way so will have no outstanding debt to show for my divorce.

In about 1 years time I'll finish paying for the wedding that resulted in the divorce. One weekend, £10,000. On going nightmare costs for the following year!

Marriage, not to be taken lightly.
(, Mon 17 May 2010, 13:34, 1 reply)
Student stupidity
Not me but a friend, back in the days when you got your entire student loan in one lump, my mate Chris woke up the day after receiving the loan with truly epic hangover and a genuine native american totem pole in his room. I say in his room, it was actually too big to fit so one end was in the corridor.
He never told me how much it cost but he lived on baked beans for a long time afterward.
(, Mon 17 May 2010, 13:12, Reply)
I've just booked half a week in not-exactly-cheap Geneva
which is already looking doomed, what with the dust cloud situation.
(, Mon 17 May 2010, 12:42, 6 replies)
You just can't put a price on some things.
I make no secret of the fact that I was once a battered wife. Shit happens, some people are psychopaths. Obviously, in this scenario, you have but one option: get the hell out. As I genuinely feared for my life after a threequarter-arsed strangulation attempt from my husband’s brother and a threat of making that a one whole asphyxiation if I left, I figured that my best chance of survival came from fleeing the country. I thought I was being clever by squirreling away every last penny – I reckoned that he wouldn’t suspect a thing if I put it in our shared savings.

This was to be my living money until the divorce became final, until I got at least half of the house, car and fripperies I paid for out of my wages.

Find out, though, I was rather stupid. Of course he was going to notice me packing my bags. Of course he was going to notice the $24,000 extra in our bank account. Just before I left, he came home with a brand new motorbike and threw me against a wall, and that lasting bruise was the only thing I had to show for years of hard work. I had nothing but a plane ticket and two suitcases worth of clothing to my name.

Over the course of a weekend, I went from owning a house, a sports car, an SUV, a boat, a share of a holiday home and personal savings of $24,0000 to having absolutely nothing. I didn’t get a penny from the divorce, in fact, I reckon I lost about $300,000 in total.

But how much did I actually lose, if it saved my life?
(, Mon 17 May 2010, 12:26, 13 replies)
Duck overkill
Me and MrsGus were on the first leg of our honeymooon on a lovely island in the Caribbean. The second leg was to move on to New York which involved a stay in a very nice hotel for a few days each side of the New Year celebrations.

Problem was we (I) had nothing arranged for the actual new year's celebrations so I did a bit of last minute looking around on the internet and found that the Marriott had a revolving restaurant on the top, was overlooking Times Square and had a special dinner for New Year's eve, starting at 5.30pm. Mrs Gus would love this!

A bit desperate and with option running out I booked it. A mere US$350 EACH. It was our honeymoon and it was not about the food but a once in a lifetime experience. So I told myself as I melted my credit card.

New year's eve arrived. We thought we'd go to china town for lunch to try this special duck thing our friends had recommended. By the time we found the restaurant it was about 1.30pm. The duck was lovely and we ate loads.

Might it ruin our dinner thought I? No course not. We could have a cocktail or two first then start dining later.

We arrived at the Marriott after a nightmare passage through time square to be told that dinner was 5.30 sharp as they had three seatings that evening. Eat now or not at all.

We felt a little full from lunch but for $700 we thought we better try. A seven course extravaganza of beautiful food followed in quick succession. It was produced, picked at then left while we held our bellies. The main course (which we knew about in advance but completely forgot) was duck. Duck, duck duck. We just could not finish anything we were offered.

Oh well. It's not all about the food we thought. There is still the atmosphere of the New Years eve party that had been promised. We had seen some very lovely looking ball rooms on the way up and were looking forward to being ushered down to join New York's great and good.

Nope. Upstairs to a low ceilinged room with chairs stacked at the side, a crap DJ, no view of times square and the shitty TV they had showing the festivities going on 30 floors below us had almost no reception.

Add on drinks, cocktails, fancy new dress for MrsGus. Probably $1,200 for one night! Not exactly wasted but not exactly as planned.
(, Mon 17 May 2010, 11:09, 1 reply)
On Saturday, I had soft noodles with my chinese takeaway instead of my usual egg fried rice.
It cost me an extra 50p! These crazy weekends will be the end of me...
(, Mon 17 May 2010, 10:13, 6 replies)
A day with some old aluminium and rivets


Going up in a B17 this weekend...
(, Mon 17 May 2010, 7:06, 15 replies)
Money well spent
I was living in the south of France, life with the then girlfriend was getting a bit stale and I decided a weekend away on my own would be good for us both. Just before I left , I bumped into the hottest girl from our local nightclub. No shit, she was a model for Audabe, a french lengerie firm, whilst she was studying to become a psycholigist. On a whim I asked her to join me on my sejourn. She said yes. We ended up in Monaco and had some fun. And then some more fun. So much fun, that I found a job and we moved there together. Technically the weekend itself wasn't the expensive part. Cue to now. We've split up, and though it's very nice, I'm now living on a French tropical island called La Isle de la Reunion and paying monopoly money to a fcuwit lawyer to be able to see my son. I've not seen him since December 2008. I miss him.
(, Mon 17 May 2010, 5:12, 37 replies)
more than money
went out on a weekend bender with my best friend about ten years ago. friday night, great night. got pissed, had a laugh, ate suspect street vendor burgers, the usual.
saturday night, went back to the same club. my mate met a bloke that night, who she started seeing.
within a month, he'd moved in. within 2 months, he was controlling her life completely. he systematically got rid of all her friends and stopped her seeing her family(not as hard as you might think, they're all alcoholics and didn't seem too bothered). when he realised i wouldn't be as easy to get rid of, he started beating her if he knew she'd been with me. for her own safety, she stopped calling. as she would never admit there was a problem or ask for help, there was very little i could do, except wait and hope she'd see sense. unfortunately, she never got the chance. on a trip to york, he crashed the car. he survived, she didn't. that weekend eventually cost me my best friend and cost her her life.
i know this is pretty much a pea, but i will never forgive that bastard for what he did, nor myself for not trying harder to help her.
(, Mon 17 May 2010, 0:21, 6 replies)
A day out with the Army...
...sounded like a good idea at the time.

"Take a Warrior (think 'small tank') to this open day - good opportunity to chat up women if nothing else" said my Boss.

So off we went to some girls' school near Nottingham. Up clambers a very nice looking young lady - the elder sister of one of the pupils. "What's this?" she says, pointing to the Laser Arming Switch.

The switch was locked on - so I forced it off with my Swiss Army knife just so I could (illegally) fire it and impress her.

When we got back, I told my Boss what I'd done.

Cost: 3 x Extra Duties for 'occasioning £17500 of damage to a laser."

And she came to visit the following weekend. (Taxpayers) money well spent, I'd say.
(, Sun 16 May 2010, 20:42, 3 replies)
paragliding
I used to live in Brighton and there were a few hills in the area that people used to paraglide from. It looked great, soaring around like a bird high above the clouds. So I went down to the paragliding shop and took their beginner deal- 2k, you got lessons until you passed, and your 'wing' all included in the price. You only got your wing once you'd passed your test and got your certificate. I learnt as much as I could about it but every weekend it was pissing down with rain.
A few months later it was finally the perfect day, not too windy, not too wet. I was shown how to strap myself in, and I stood on the edge of the hill. the old instructor dude was holding on to my trousers and saying 'i daren't let you go until you've had a bit more expetirnce'. Then it started raining. The next day the company went bust.
So two grand to stand on a hill with an old dude holding my trousers.
(, Sun 16 May 2010, 20:21, 5 replies)

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