False Economies
Sometimes the cheapest option isn't the right one. I fondly remember my neighbours going to a well-known catalogue-based store and buying the cheapest lawnmower they stocked. How we laughed as they realised it had non-rotating wheels and died when presented with grass. Tell us about times you or others have been let down by being a cheapskate.
( , Tue 24 Jun 2014, 12:42)
Sometimes the cheapest option isn't the right one. I fondly remember my neighbours going to a well-known catalogue-based store and buying the cheapest lawnmower they stocked. How we laughed as they realised it had non-rotating wheels and died when presented with grass. Tell us about times you or others have been let down by being a cheapskate.
( , Tue 24 Jun 2014, 12:42)
This question is now closed.
banner ads in the b3ta header
making the last few users even more reluctant to come here
( , Wed 2 Jul 2014, 12:34, 21 replies)
making the last few users even more reluctant to come here
( , Wed 2 Jul 2014, 12:34, 21 replies)
They thought investing in some drugs to sell would be a good money-making idea.
Yeah?
Not in my town.
( , Wed 2 Jul 2014, 12:20, Reply)
Yeah?
Not in my town.
( , Wed 2 Jul 2014, 12:20, Reply)
I need about 100m of scaffolding planks to make a coffin in my garage.
( , Wed 2 Jul 2014, 11:17, 2 replies)
( , Wed 2 Jul 2014, 11:17, 2 replies)
Welcome to the Cheap Meats
I'm a big fan of cooking on a budget. I love turning out a perfectly edible lasagne and then revealing that each portion cost less than a ready-meal. However, one day I went too far. I tried to cook with Sainsbury's Value Mince.
"This stuff is a bargain!" I thought, as I plopped the nondescript pack into my basket. "Presumably it's cheaper because they don't spend money on fancy packaging" I convinced myself, assuming that their normal own-brand mince came in cartons designed by Banksy. And so I took it home and prepared to make the cheapest chilli con carne ever, and to astound my family with the revelation that it only cost a quid.
At this point I'd like to say a big Hello to everyone who's about three paragraphs ahead of me here. Yes, I probably should've known.
What a twat. As soon as I opened the pack, I realised this wasn't one of my wisest purchases. Where normally you'd find minced beef, I saw an explosion in a guts factory. Bright red strands of god-knows-what mingled with huge clumps of gristle, and all was liberally decorated with little sections of white tube which I imagine used to transport bodily fluids. The packs of good-quality mince boast of coming from the prime cuts of beef; I dreaded to think which parts of the cow I was looking at. Probably the broken dreams. And anus.
"So you threw it in the bin and stuck a Fray Bentos in the oven, right?" I hear you ask. Of course I didn't; I refused to be beaten by a tray of hoof. I soldiered on with the recipe. Of course, instead of simply tipping the beef into the pan, I had to be a bit more selective. And so I spent something like half an hour picking through this carton of takeaway autopsy, hooking out all the nasty-looking bits, removing the little (and not so little) bits of tube, running the Squish test on anything I wasn't sure about (i.e. if, when squished with a fork, it behaved like a lump of rubber, it was out). All in all, about half the pack made it to the pan.
So I ended up spending twice as long as normal making a very small chilli. And I decided against the big reveal at the end. I realised it probably wasn't wise for me to announce that they'd just eaten ground-up ringpiece.
( , Wed 2 Jul 2014, 1:23, 9 replies)
I'm a big fan of cooking on a budget. I love turning out a perfectly edible lasagne and then revealing that each portion cost less than a ready-meal. However, one day I went too far. I tried to cook with Sainsbury's Value Mince.
"This stuff is a bargain!" I thought, as I plopped the nondescript pack into my basket. "Presumably it's cheaper because they don't spend money on fancy packaging" I convinced myself, assuming that their normal own-brand mince came in cartons designed by Banksy. And so I took it home and prepared to make the cheapest chilli con carne ever, and to astound my family with the revelation that it only cost a quid.
At this point I'd like to say a big Hello to everyone who's about three paragraphs ahead of me here. Yes, I probably should've known.
What a twat. As soon as I opened the pack, I realised this wasn't one of my wisest purchases. Where normally you'd find minced beef, I saw an explosion in a guts factory. Bright red strands of god-knows-what mingled with huge clumps of gristle, and all was liberally decorated with little sections of white tube which I imagine used to transport bodily fluids. The packs of good-quality mince boast of coming from the prime cuts of beef; I dreaded to think which parts of the cow I was looking at. Probably the broken dreams. And anus.
"So you threw it in the bin and stuck a Fray Bentos in the oven, right?" I hear you ask. Of course I didn't; I refused to be beaten by a tray of hoof. I soldiered on with the recipe. Of course, instead of simply tipping the beef into the pan, I had to be a bit more selective. And so I spent something like half an hour picking through this carton of takeaway autopsy, hooking out all the nasty-looking bits, removing the little (and not so little) bits of tube, running the Squish test on anything I wasn't sure about (i.e. if, when squished with a fork, it behaved like a lump of rubber, it was out). All in all, about half the pack made it to the pan.
So I ended up spending twice as long as normal making a very small chilli. And I decided against the big reveal at the end. I realised it probably wasn't wise for me to announce that they'd just eaten ground-up ringpiece.
( , Wed 2 Jul 2014, 1:23, 9 replies)
Sancerrely Yours
A pearoast, but appropriate.
A good few years ago I was mooching around my local Asda (unfortunately the only store near enough to home to make shopping there worthwhile) when I spotted a boner feedy bargain - bottles of Sancerre for under a fiver. Partial as I then was to a spot of white, and having recently discovered this particular grape (whilst knowing fuck-all about wine in general), I took all the remaining seven bottles off the shelf and gleefully put them in the trolley.
At the checkout all went smoothly until I saw the price of the wine was almost twelve quid a bottle. I pointed out the error to the cashier, but she was having none of it. "That's not what it says here" etc, etc.
So naturally, I asked if she could call the manager. She didn't, but brought over her till supervisor, who again tried to insist that the wine was correctly priced. Now I'm not big on trading standards, but one thing I do know is that if a shop displays goods as being at a certain price, then they have to be sold at that price. We went over to the shelf, I showed her the ticket that said a fiver a bottle. She saw it, noted it, still insisted their price was right.
Anyway, I stuck to my guns - to the extent that I flatly refused to move from the till until I got that wine for the price stated. I warned people not to form a queue behind me, since I could be some time. They went through the store hierarchy one by one, even brought over the head of the wine department (a snotty, rat-faced turd who insisted that Asda would "never" sell wine of this quality at such a price.) who all insisted the till price was correct. I kept telling them that this was against the law and asking for the manager. My g/f (patient, long-suffering and now my wife) was, as she kept telling me, mortified by the carry-on, muttering through gritted teeth "Just leave it, just leave it". Bollocks I would just leave it. This had gone way past the point of no return.
Eventually the manager arrived and (as I knew he would) heard a brief summary and simply said "Give it to him for a fiver." What else could he do?
So I got eighty-four quid's worth of wine for thirty-five pounds. I marched out of that store to the sound of trumpets ringing in my ears. A triumph for the common man, I thought. Victory for the oppressed Sancerre-swilling masses, I thought. A blow to the pockets of a grasping bastion of capitalism, I thought. The last laugh was mine.
Until I opened the first bottle and found it tasted like cat's piss. "Serves you fucking right," said the other half. I know - I should have taken it back, but the moment had gone and I couldn't be arsed. Oh, well...
( , Tue 1 Jul 2014, 22:34, 51 replies)
A pearoast, but appropriate.
A good few years ago I was mooching around my local Asda (unfortunately the only store near enough to home to make shopping there worthwhile) when I spotted a boner feedy bargain - bottles of Sancerre for under a fiver. Partial as I then was to a spot of white, and having recently discovered this particular grape (whilst knowing fuck-all about wine in general), I took all the remaining seven bottles off the shelf and gleefully put them in the trolley.
At the checkout all went smoothly until I saw the price of the wine was almost twelve quid a bottle. I pointed out the error to the cashier, but she was having none of it. "That's not what it says here" etc, etc.
So naturally, I asked if she could call the manager. She didn't, but brought over her till supervisor, who again tried to insist that the wine was correctly priced. Now I'm not big on trading standards, but one thing I do know is that if a shop displays goods as being at a certain price, then they have to be sold at that price. We went over to the shelf, I showed her the ticket that said a fiver a bottle. She saw it, noted it, still insisted their price was right.
Anyway, I stuck to my guns - to the extent that I flatly refused to move from the till until I got that wine for the price stated. I warned people not to form a queue behind me, since I could be some time. They went through the store hierarchy one by one, even brought over the head of the wine department (a snotty, rat-faced turd who insisted that Asda would "never" sell wine of this quality at such a price.) who all insisted the till price was correct. I kept telling them that this was against the law and asking for the manager. My g/f (patient, long-suffering and now my wife) was, as she kept telling me, mortified by the carry-on, muttering through gritted teeth "Just leave it, just leave it". Bollocks I would just leave it. This had gone way past the point of no return.
Eventually the manager arrived and (as I knew he would) heard a brief summary and simply said "Give it to him for a fiver." What else could he do?
So I got eighty-four quid's worth of wine for thirty-five pounds. I marched out of that store to the sound of trumpets ringing in my ears. A triumph for the common man, I thought. Victory for the oppressed Sancerre-swilling masses, I thought. A blow to the pockets of a grasping bastion of capitalism, I thought. The last laugh was mine.
Until I opened the first bottle and found it tasted like cat's piss. "Serves you fucking right," said the other half. I know - I should have taken it back, but the moment had gone and I couldn't be arsed. Oh, well...
( , Tue 1 Jul 2014, 22:34, 51 replies)
Please, sweeties, imagine a very long
and convoluted story of about 4000 words with digressions and everything, which ends with the words:
'And he dropped the full sack on me.'
Cos I can't be arsed to write it.
KTHXBYE
XXXXXXXXXXXXXX
( , Tue 1 Jul 2014, 18:29, 6 replies)
and convoluted story of about 4000 words with digressions and everything, which ends with the words:
'And he dropped the full sack on me.'
Cos I can't be arsed to write it.
KTHXBYE
XXXXXXXXXXXXXX
( , Tue 1 Jul 2014, 18:29, 6 replies)
Celebrities shagging 'models'/prostitutes.
After all the privacy injunctions, pay offs and bad PR, they'd probably be better of getting a robust pre-nuptual, marrying the slapper, and then get a quicky divorce.
( , Tue 1 Jul 2014, 17:09, 6 replies)
After all the privacy injunctions, pay offs and bad PR, they'd probably be better of getting a robust pre-nuptual, marrying the slapper, and then get a quicky divorce.
( , Tue 1 Jul 2014, 17:09, 6 replies)
Once, I bought some surrealism but I should have stuck with metaphysics. Whole world out there you know.
( , Tue 1 Jul 2014, 13:45, 1 reply)
( , Tue 1 Jul 2014, 13:45, 1 reply)
Economy, false or otherwise, does not concern me.
As I fly business class (only on 747s equipped with saltwater pools) while managing my international portfolio of property. Even if it cost 10 times as much, I'd still be shitting cash. Oh, and er, you must be upset and jealous.
( , Tue 1 Jul 2014, 13:03, 13 replies)
As I fly business class (only on 747s equipped with saltwater pools) while managing my international portfolio of property. Even if it cost 10 times as much, I'd still be shitting cash. Oh, and er, you must be upset and jealous.
( , Tue 1 Jul 2014, 13:03, 13 replies)
Unfortunately true story
A large hospital trust near to where I live has recently moved into its new PFI-financed (another false economy) buildings. As is usually the case when this happens, the new hospital has fewer beds, because it's cheaper to treat people in the community than in hospital and the plan is to direct patients down that route whenever possible.
So, aside from shit parking facilities (another story) the new super-hospital has 300 fewer beds than its predecessor. Fair enough, you might say, except that the community provision is seeing its budget cut too, so patients have to stay longer in hospital while they recuperate - leading to a critical bed shortage.
To address this, some of the old wards, which had been converted to office space, are being brought back into service. This task is made more difficult and expensive because things like the pipework that delivered oxygen to each bed space has been ripped out during the refurbishment - probably because some genius project manager offset the value of the scrap metal against the conversion cost.
And there's more, but this is perilously short of teh funneh and already into tl;dr territory.
( , Tue 1 Jul 2014, 9:54, 56 replies)
A large hospital trust near to where I live has recently moved into its new PFI-financed (another false economy) buildings. As is usually the case when this happens, the new hospital has fewer beds, because it's cheaper to treat people in the community than in hospital and the plan is to direct patients down that route whenever possible.
So, aside from shit parking facilities (another story) the new super-hospital has 300 fewer beds than its predecessor. Fair enough, you might say, except that the community provision is seeing its budget cut too, so patients have to stay longer in hospital while they recuperate - leading to a critical bed shortage.
To address this, some of the old wards, which had been converted to office space, are being brought back into service. This task is made more difficult and expensive because things like the pipework that delivered oxygen to each bed space has been ripped out during the refurbishment - probably because some genius project manager offset the value of the scrap metal against the conversion cost.
And there's more, but this is perilously short of teh funneh and already into tl;dr territory.
( , Tue 1 Jul 2014, 9:54, 56 replies)
Free sofa
My mate Kevin's bird got wind of a sofa going free. So being as poor as church mice, it seemed a good idea.
The catch was that it had to be collected... from the other side of the country.
So Kevin obediently hired a clapped out Transit van and they set off one Saturday. When they finally got there, it turned out to be bright pink and looked as if it had been in a pub for twenty years. Anyway, they loaded it and set off. Just as Kevin drove off, he noticed a flash behind him.
Total cost of vile, flea-ridden sofa they didn't want: van hire + £80 in diesel + an entire Saturday + three points on his licence for doing 35 in a 30 mph zone + a fine + the resulting hike in his car insurance premium = not worth it.
The moral of the story: don't listen to your bird.
( , Mon 30 Jun 2014, 22:07, 7 replies)
My mate Kevin's bird got wind of a sofa going free. So being as poor as church mice, it seemed a good idea.
The catch was that it had to be collected... from the other side of the country.
So Kevin obediently hired a clapped out Transit van and they set off one Saturday. When they finally got there, it turned out to be bright pink and looked as if it had been in a pub for twenty years. Anyway, they loaded it and set off. Just as Kevin drove off, he noticed a flash behind him.
Total cost of vile, flea-ridden sofa they didn't want: van hire + £80 in diesel + an entire Saturday + three points on his licence for doing 35 in a 30 mph zone + a fine + the resulting hike in his car insurance premium = not worth it.
The moral of the story: don't listen to your bird.
( , Mon 30 Jun 2014, 22:07, 7 replies)
An old aunt of mine
insisted that always buying the best quality was the best economy on the long run.
When she died her house was full of old lady clothes reeking of old lady stink. The furniture was fake Louis 14, gaudy, uncomfortable and falling apart. The house had foundation problems and had cat shit in all the crevices.
We sent her off in a chipboard coffin.
( , Mon 30 Jun 2014, 16:21, 9 replies)
insisted that always buying the best quality was the best economy on the long run.
When she died her house was full of old lady clothes reeking of old lady stink. The furniture was fake Louis 14, gaudy, uncomfortable and falling apart. The house had foundation problems and had cat shit in all the crevices.
We sent her off in a chipboard coffin.
( , Mon 30 Jun 2014, 16:21, 9 replies)
I bought a Stylophone.
Not recommended. The stylus itself smelt like fish.
( , Mon 30 Jun 2014, 15:55, 3 replies)
Not recommended. The stylus itself smelt like fish.
( , Mon 30 Jun 2014, 15:55, 3 replies)
Pistorius never scrimped on his false legs and look what happened to him.
( , Mon 30 Jun 2014, 12:05, 2 replies)
( , Mon 30 Jun 2014, 12:05, 2 replies)
bagged salads
convenient, yes, but you can pretty much buy the veg fresh and you'll get a lot more for your money and it lasts longer.
also, when you open those bags, the salad smells like breath.
( , Mon 30 Jun 2014, 11:45, 24 replies)
convenient, yes, but you can pretty much buy the veg fresh and you'll get a lot more for your money and it lasts longer.
also, when you open those bags, the salad smells like breath.
( , Mon 30 Jun 2014, 11:45, 24 replies)
What happens when you breed from w1nkers
www.telegraph.co.uk/health/healthnews/10934281/Children-conceived-through-fertility-treatment-more-likely-to-have-mental-health-issues.html
( , Mon 30 Jun 2014, 9:55, 12 replies)
www.telegraph.co.uk/health/healthnews/10934281/Children-conceived-through-fertility-treatment-more-likely-to-have-mental-health-issues.html
( , Mon 30 Jun 2014, 9:55, 12 replies)
Debbie Harry has aged so badly that she looks like Genesis P Orridge.
( , Mon 30 Jun 2014, 7:40, 3 replies)
( , Mon 30 Jun 2014, 7:40, 3 replies)
the two main false economies in life are ; footwear and toilet paper. dont buy cheap with them two and you should be good
( , Sun 29 Jun 2014, 18:39, 27 replies)
Marine mammals! Genitals! Drugs!
I once worked for a company that specialised in marine biology. They were doing a study into using psychedelic chemicals to stimulate marine mammals genitals and see if they could improve captive breeding programs. The easiest method to apply the drugs to the genetials was through a permeable cover which would tear/rip off once sexual activity began between the animals. However the company never got the required licenses in place to begin testing on live animals. Instead they had to use "simulated" dummy animals to test the absorption rate of the psychedelic drugs from the cover to the creature. The trial never really went anywhere due to no adequate method of simulating the animals being developed and no zoo was going to let their sea mammals take part in medical trials involving ecstasy being applied to their rude bits.
For years we had boxes of the test products sitting round the warehouse behind the labs. It took quite a few years after the trial was cancelled before anyone threw out the boxes of Faux Seal, Condom E's.
( , Sun 29 Jun 2014, 18:30, 2 replies)
I once worked for a company that specialised in marine biology. They were doing a study into using psychedelic chemicals to stimulate marine mammals genitals and see if they could improve captive breeding programs. The easiest method to apply the drugs to the genetials was through a permeable cover which would tear/rip off once sexual activity began between the animals. However the company never got the required licenses in place to begin testing on live animals. Instead they had to use "simulated" dummy animals to test the absorption rate of the psychedelic drugs from the cover to the creature. The trial never really went anywhere due to no adequate method of simulating the animals being developed and no zoo was going to let their sea mammals take part in medical trials involving ecstasy being applied to their rude bits.
For years we had boxes of the test products sitting round the warehouse behind the labs. It took quite a few years after the trial was cancelled before anyone threw out the boxes of Faux Seal, Condom E's.
( , Sun 29 Jun 2014, 18:30, 2 replies)
Stop the Presses - Pissing in ones own mouth proves very costly
TODD Carney has been sacked after a shocking lewd picture of the NRL player went viral on social media overnight.
The image allegedly shows Carney in the toilets of Sutherland Shire nightclub Northies urinating into his own mouth, an act also known as ‘bubbling’.
Cronulla Board members decided this afternoon to terminate his $650,000-a-year contract effective immediately, despite having three years remaining, according to the Daily Telegraph.
LOLZ -BUBBLING
www.news.com.au/sport/nrl/what-on-earth-was-todd-carney-thinking-when-shocking-lewd-photo-was-taken/story-fndv2ypb-1226971063762a
( , Sun 29 Jun 2014, 11:54, 10 replies)
TODD Carney has been sacked after a shocking lewd picture of the NRL player went viral on social media overnight.
The image allegedly shows Carney in the toilets of Sutherland Shire nightclub Northies urinating into his own mouth, an act also known as ‘bubbling’.
Cronulla Board members decided this afternoon to terminate his $650,000-a-year contract effective immediately, despite having three years remaining, according to the Daily Telegraph.
LOLZ -BUBBLING
www.news.com.au/sport/nrl/what-on-earth-was-todd-carney-thinking-when-shocking-lewd-photo-was-taken/story-fndv2ypb-1226971063762a
( , Sun 29 Jun 2014, 11:54, 10 replies)
So...
I was at this beach festival a few years ago and looking to score some MDMA. I found this weird little bloke who'd set up a grotto in one of the old caves that went back into the cliffs and he was selling what he claimed was the next best thing to MDMA you could get whilst still being legal.
It seems that you only had to alter the chemical structure by the smallest amounts to bypass the laws as they are based on detailed analysis of the compounds - hence all these 'plant food' type drugs hitting the head shops.
If you actually break down something like MDMA down to the molecular level, you discover all kinds of different elements that you wouldn't believe were there - Aluminium? Selenium? Fluorine? Get rid of one or two of these and it will still get you munted without breaking the law.
This little guy, and he was little, no more than four foot if that, had created a batch of MDMA and taken out the fluorine and aluminium and claimed it was still just as good. So I decided to take a punt on it.
Then he gets all proper weird on me. He insist he will only do the deal by shouting into the cave and replying to the echo. He says it's down to some archaic law about a confession based on reflected sound being inadmissible in court, so if we were overheard somehow it wasn't us, it was the sound bouncing back from the depth of the cave...Yeah...weird little guy.
So we did the deal. I took the stuff and danced the night away. It wasn't quite as good as normal, but I gues it was a F Al less echo gnome E
( , Sun 29 Jun 2014, 11:53, 4 replies)
I was at this beach festival a few years ago and looking to score some MDMA. I found this weird little bloke who'd set up a grotto in one of the old caves that went back into the cliffs and he was selling what he claimed was the next best thing to MDMA you could get whilst still being legal.
It seems that you only had to alter the chemical structure by the smallest amounts to bypass the laws as they are based on detailed analysis of the compounds - hence all these 'plant food' type drugs hitting the head shops.
If you actually break down something like MDMA down to the molecular level, you discover all kinds of different elements that you wouldn't believe were there - Aluminium? Selenium? Fluorine? Get rid of one or two of these and it will still get you munted without breaking the law.
This little guy, and he was little, no more than four foot if that, had created a batch of MDMA and taken out the fluorine and aluminium and claimed it was still just as good. So I decided to take a punt on it.
Then he gets all proper weird on me. He insist he will only do the deal by shouting into the cave and replying to the echo. He says it's down to some archaic law about a confession based on reflected sound being inadmissible in court, so if we were overheard somehow it wasn't us, it was the sound bouncing back from the depth of the cave...Yeah...weird little guy.
So we did the deal. I took the stuff and danced the night away. It wasn't quite as good as normal, but I gues it was a F Al less echo gnome E
( , Sun 29 Jun 2014, 11:53, 4 replies)
This question is now closed.