Stuff I've found
Freddy Woo writes, "My non-prostitute-killing, lorry driving uncle once came home with a wedding cake. Found it in a layby, scoffed the lot over several weeks."
What's the best thing you've found?
( , Thu 6 Nov 2008, 11:58)
Freddy Woo writes, "My non-prostitute-killing, lorry driving uncle once came home with a wedding cake. Found it in a layby, scoffed the lot over several weeks."
What's the best thing you've found?
( , Thu 6 Nov 2008, 11:58)
This question is now closed.
That'll teach him
.
On Saturday past, I popped into the local newsagent's, on a whim, to buy a lottery ticket. I don't usually bother, but every now and again I try my luck.
While waiting in the queue, my foot kicked something on the floor. Looking down, I saw what I thought was a pound coin. I bent down to pick it up, intending to deposit it in the charity box on the counter (I always do that with coins), but the bloke in front had other ideas.
He glanced round to see what I was doing, and despite the fact he was standing there with a tenner in his hand, he announced,
"I think that's mine, actually."
I shrugged and handed it over. I then watched him smugly tuck his tenner back into his wallet and turn to the counter to ask for a lucky dip ticket. I then giggled quite loudly as I watched him attempt to pay for the ticket with the Spanish 50 cent coin I'd just picked up. His face was rather red as he dug the tenner back out to pay. I don't think it helped that I was still giggling as he stormed out of the shop.
The karma fairy still isn't my friend though. The lucky dip I bought with my honestly-earned quid didn't have a single number on Saturday night's draw.
Ah well.
( , Mon 10 Nov 2008, 15:34, 5 replies)
.
On Saturday past, I popped into the local newsagent's, on a whim, to buy a lottery ticket. I don't usually bother, but every now and again I try my luck.
While waiting in the queue, my foot kicked something on the floor. Looking down, I saw what I thought was a pound coin. I bent down to pick it up, intending to deposit it in the charity box on the counter (I always do that with coins), but the bloke in front had other ideas.
He glanced round to see what I was doing, and despite the fact he was standing there with a tenner in his hand, he announced,
"I think that's mine, actually."
I shrugged and handed it over. I then watched him smugly tuck his tenner back into his wallet and turn to the counter to ask for a lucky dip ticket. I then giggled quite loudly as I watched him attempt to pay for the ticket with the Spanish 50 cent coin I'd just picked up. His face was rather red as he dug the tenner back out to pay. I don't think it helped that I was still giggling as he stormed out of the shop.
The karma fairy still isn't my friend though. The lucky dip I bought with my honestly-earned quid didn't have a single number on Saturday night's draw.
Ah well.
( , Mon 10 Nov 2008, 15:34, 5 replies)
The best thing I've found...
...that eating Quakers Oat Porridge about 7 in the morning makes me fart like thunder about 3 o'clock on the dot every day. That's a lot of porridge and a lot of gas.
I have no friends.
( , Mon 10 Nov 2008, 15:28, 1 reply)
...that eating Quakers Oat Porridge about 7 in the morning makes me fart like thunder about 3 o'clock on the dot every day. That's a lot of porridge and a lot of gas.
I have no friends.
( , Mon 10 Nov 2008, 15:28, 1 reply)
I found
pictures I posted on the main board in my profile... that I don't remember making!
Seriously, was I just drunk (more than likely) or does B3ta get confused sometimes?
( , Mon 10 Nov 2008, 15:14, Reply)
pictures I posted on the main board in my profile... that I don't remember making!
Seriously, was I just drunk (more than likely) or does B3ta get confused sometimes?
( , Mon 10 Nov 2008, 15:14, Reply)
I found £120 a few years ago in a pub carpark
and gave it all to the pub landlord.
bit by bit, at around £4.60 at a time
( , Mon 10 Nov 2008, 14:54, 7 replies)
and gave it all to the pub landlord.
bit by bit, at around £4.60 at a time
( , Mon 10 Nov 2008, 14:54, 7 replies)
A sad (or comforting) discovery.
Saw Motorhead a week or so ago, and whilst they "Rock(ed) Out" as much as usual, there was something amiss. Lemmy (AKA God) is going bald. Quite noticably. Maybe he IS mortal after all?
( , Mon 10 Nov 2008, 14:32, 1 reply)
Saw Motorhead a week or so ago, and whilst they "Rock(ed) Out" as much as usual, there was something amiss. Lemmy (AKA God) is going bald. Quite noticably. Maybe he IS mortal after all?
( , Mon 10 Nov 2008, 14:32, 1 reply)
I found
A load of old Star Wars toys, some of them still in packaging and hundreds of 2000AD mags in the loft, including the first one!
I thought my mum had thrown them away years ago.
( , Mon 10 Nov 2008, 14:19, 6 replies)
A load of old Star Wars toys, some of them still in packaging and hundreds of 2000AD mags in the loft, including the first one!
I thought my mum had thrown them away years ago.
( , Mon 10 Nov 2008, 14:19, 6 replies)
Back at the library I found the following in returned items:
- Condom in packet in a book
- A live earwig in a DVD case
- A used condom in a book
- And my personal favourite; a whole, uncooked rasher of bacon.
The bookmark of the fatty, I guess.
( , Mon 10 Nov 2008, 14:13, 5 replies)
- Condom in packet in a book
- A live earwig in a DVD case
- A used condom in a book
- And my personal favourite; a whole, uncooked rasher of bacon.
The bookmark of the fatty, I guess.
( , Mon 10 Nov 2008, 14:13, 5 replies)
Printer Jam!
I have previously posted about the fact that I once worked for an IT firm in Sheffield that had a contract to maintain the systems of students that had obtained a grant to receive a PC via the local student support (within the Yorkshire area).
Our field engineers had a number of stories of the homemade smut made by most of the students stored on the hard drives but the best find I heard of was about a printer fault from one female student in Huddersfield.
The student in question was a regular to our technical helpline and would call us at least twice a week. She was also the least tech savvy person I have ever met and would constantly whine down the phone if you tried to talk her through anything. Her PC was in for repair (A.k.a pron virus removal) so often that I could tell that the PC was hers by just looking at the case (they were all the same ones hers just had a couple of distinctive stains on the front). I also knew the decor of her bedroom due to a couple of lewd pics she had stored on her hardrive (taken with the webcam we provided to assist with her course).
Anywhoo one time shortly after returning the PC to her she phoned up ranting about a printer jam that needed some onsite assistance. The tekky duly called down and started his usual routine of un-jamming a printer, after trying to print something off and feed the paper through the thing was still jammed. He then took the last resort (before taking the thing to pieces) of turning the printer upside down and shaking it to see if anything fell out. It was here that he found the source of the printer jam.
A used tampon fell out.
The whining student (who was stood next to the tekky the whole time) picked the tampon off the floor said “Oh Yeah thats where it went” and flung it over her shoulder.
Tekky then made his excuses and left, to sit in his van and think of the reason of how anyone could misplace a tampon there (the printer was on a shelf about 4 – 5 foot from the floor) and why she would casually throw it over her shoulder into her room and not throw the thing in the sodding bin.
( , Mon 10 Nov 2008, 13:48, 4 replies)
I have previously posted about the fact that I once worked for an IT firm in Sheffield that had a contract to maintain the systems of students that had obtained a grant to receive a PC via the local student support (within the Yorkshire area).
Our field engineers had a number of stories of the homemade smut made by most of the students stored on the hard drives but the best find I heard of was about a printer fault from one female student in Huddersfield.
The student in question was a regular to our technical helpline and would call us at least twice a week. She was also the least tech savvy person I have ever met and would constantly whine down the phone if you tried to talk her through anything. Her PC was in for repair (A.k.a pron virus removal) so often that I could tell that the PC was hers by just looking at the case (they were all the same ones hers just had a couple of distinctive stains on the front). I also knew the decor of her bedroom due to a couple of lewd pics she had stored on her hardrive (taken with the webcam we provided to assist with her course).
Anywhoo one time shortly after returning the PC to her she phoned up ranting about a printer jam that needed some onsite assistance. The tekky duly called down and started his usual routine of un-jamming a printer, after trying to print something off and feed the paper through the thing was still jammed. He then took the last resort (before taking the thing to pieces) of turning the printer upside down and shaking it to see if anything fell out. It was here that he found the source of the printer jam.
A used tampon fell out.
The whining student (who was stood next to the tekky the whole time) picked the tampon off the floor said “Oh Yeah thats where it went” and flung it over her shoulder.
Tekky then made his excuses and left, to sit in his van and think of the reason of how anyone could misplace a tampon there (the printer was on a shelf about 4 – 5 foot from the floor) and why she would casually throw it over her shoulder into her room and not throw the thing in the sodding bin.
( , Mon 10 Nov 2008, 13:48, 4 replies)
Half a caterpillar
It was in my home grown salad, still wriggling a little bit. You didn't fucking mention that did you Hugh Fearnley Whittingstall?
( , Mon 10 Nov 2008, 13:41, 4 replies)
It was in my home grown salad, still wriggling a little bit. You didn't fucking mention that did you Hugh Fearnley Whittingstall?
( , Mon 10 Nov 2008, 13:41, 4 replies)
I didn't find it, but I pointed her in the direction
I was chatting to a girl I know. In this story she is the baddie.
"Everybody should go back where they came from"
"You're fucking *irish* you retard"
"So?"
"You're in England, if you really believe everyone should go back where they came from you should start by fucking off"
"no"
"..."
"Well I didn't mean that. I meant where they came from ages ago. Like Africa or whatever"
"..."
"..."
"If you go back far enough everyone comes from Africa. Humans evolved around Ethyopia"
"..."
"So are you saying everyone alive should move to Ethyopia"
"..."
"..."(with smug look)
"Well I don't believe that. I think god created everyone how they are and where they were over 7 days"
Holy fuck I made a creationist.
And that is how I helped someone find religion, as a support to their main hobby of doing racism.
Oops.
( , Mon 10 Nov 2008, 13:26, 5 replies)
I was chatting to a girl I know. In this story she is the baddie.
"Everybody should go back where they came from"
"You're fucking *irish* you retard"
"So?"
"You're in England, if you really believe everyone should go back where they came from you should start by fucking off"
"no"
"..."
"Well I didn't mean that. I meant where they came from ages ago. Like Africa or whatever"
"..."
"..."
"If you go back far enough everyone comes from Africa. Humans evolved around Ethyopia"
"..."
"So are you saying everyone alive should move to Ethyopia"
"..."
"..."(with smug look)
"Well I don't believe that. I think god created everyone how they are and where they were over 7 days"
Holy fuck I made a creationist.
And that is how I helped someone find religion, as a support to their main hobby of doing racism.
Oops.
( , Mon 10 Nov 2008, 13:26, 5 replies)
Not exactly a 16oz Porterhouse...
I was in a restaurant the other day, and after the meal the waiter approached me and asked: “How did you find your steak, sir?”
I replied: ”With fucking difficulty, it was hiding behind a couple of French fries”
\coat
( , Mon 10 Nov 2008, 12:50, 1 reply)
I was in a restaurant the other day, and after the meal the waiter approached me and asked: “How did you find your steak, sir?”
I replied: ”With fucking difficulty, it was hiding behind a couple of French fries”
\coat
( , Mon 10 Nov 2008, 12:50, 1 reply)
Cat stash
Last night I was looking for a dice that my daughter had lost I thought i'd look under the fridge as there's a half inch gap and it could have rolled under there.
So I got a torch and pressed my head to the floor for a look and found....
My wife's engagement ring which she lost 6 months ago.
About 30 hairbands which we blamed our daughter for losing at school,
Nail clippers,
A dice,
Various coins,
Earplugs,
2 teaspoons
and a couple of items which we don't even know what they are or what they're for.
The cat who I have fed and fussed over for the past year has been stealing from me and stashing his goodies under the fridge, no doubt so he can sell them to fund a secret catnip problem.
This is why he goes missing for days at a time.
( , Mon 10 Nov 2008, 12:48, 4 replies)
Last night I was looking for a dice that my daughter had lost I thought i'd look under the fridge as there's a half inch gap and it could have rolled under there.
So I got a torch and pressed my head to the floor for a look and found....
My wife's engagement ring which she lost 6 months ago.
About 30 hairbands which we blamed our daughter for losing at school,
Nail clippers,
A dice,
Various coins,
Earplugs,
2 teaspoons
and a couple of items which we don't even know what they are or what they're for.
The cat who I have fed and fussed over for the past year has been stealing from me and stashing his goodies under the fridge, no doubt so he can sell them to fund a secret catnip problem.
This is why he goes missing for days at a time.
( , Mon 10 Nov 2008, 12:48, 4 replies)
As easy as stealing money from a child
The other night, when I lost the will to cook, I hotfooted it to my local burger joint for a bacon and blue cheese special. On entering the tiny shop I found it filled with an assortment of about eight dishevelled young boys. These were not your usual dishevelled young boys, however. No, these were the finest, free range, middle-class, tousled-headed, plummy young boys one could imagine. They and their Boden-catalogue clothes were clobbered in muck and they were accompanied by their fathers - three in total - in their designer organic outdoor gear and their expressive/reflexive approach to parenting.
"I WANT a STRAW," brayed one youngling, a cry soon echoed by five others.
They began to scuffle - not that there was room to scuffle. Their fathers watched them with amusement. I watched them with a view to kicking any of them that so much as brushed against my shoe.
"Can I have a stick? I WANT a STICK! Why can't I have a stick? Daddy! Daddy the burger man won't give me a stick!"
I prayed for a stick larger than a coffee stirrer to reach my hands.
Just then I looked down and - lo and behold - saw not a big stick but a fiver on the floor. Presuming the customers who had arrived just after me had dropped it as they paid, I picked it up and handed it to them. They politely thanked me.
After an intolerable twenty minutes the army of children's burgers arrived. "Daddy! This isn't Heinz! I don't WANT this ketchup!". Daddy fussed over them for a moment and berated the burger man for his generic ketchup.
Small child number four piped up: "Daddy! The burger man has STOLEN my FIVE POUNDS!"
Oooh, this could get interesting. Burger man looked both pissed off and weary. He said nothing. The child continued his wail. "Daddy! He STOLE my money! My five pounds!"
The customers behind me shifted uncomfortably but said nothing. I said nothing. If I'd had my way they'd have paid us to put up with their crap for twenty minutes.
I was saved from further moral dilemma by the arrival of my burger. As I tried to edge past the mannerless little darlings I heard one of the fathers say, "I'm sure one of your friends took it as a joke, Henry." I had to utter "Excuse me, please," four times with increasing volume before they unclogged the door en route to their people carriers.
So yes, I found some money. More importantly, I found a sense of righteousness and justice against smug middle-class parenting.
( , Mon 10 Nov 2008, 12:48, 6 replies)
The other night, when I lost the will to cook, I hotfooted it to my local burger joint for a bacon and blue cheese special. On entering the tiny shop I found it filled with an assortment of about eight dishevelled young boys. These were not your usual dishevelled young boys, however. No, these were the finest, free range, middle-class, tousled-headed, plummy young boys one could imagine. They and their Boden-catalogue clothes were clobbered in muck and they were accompanied by their fathers - three in total - in their designer organic outdoor gear and their expressive/reflexive approach to parenting.
"I WANT a STRAW," brayed one youngling, a cry soon echoed by five others.
They began to scuffle - not that there was room to scuffle. Their fathers watched them with amusement. I watched them with a view to kicking any of them that so much as brushed against my shoe.
"Can I have a stick? I WANT a STICK! Why can't I have a stick? Daddy! Daddy the burger man won't give me a stick!"
I prayed for a stick larger than a coffee stirrer to reach my hands.
Just then I looked down and - lo and behold - saw not a big stick but a fiver on the floor. Presuming the customers who had arrived just after me had dropped it as they paid, I picked it up and handed it to them. They politely thanked me.
After an intolerable twenty minutes the army of children's burgers arrived. "Daddy! This isn't Heinz! I don't WANT this ketchup!". Daddy fussed over them for a moment and berated the burger man for his generic ketchup.
Small child number four piped up: "Daddy! The burger man has STOLEN my FIVE POUNDS!"
Oooh, this could get interesting. Burger man looked both pissed off and weary. He said nothing. The child continued his wail. "Daddy! He STOLE my money! My five pounds!"
The customers behind me shifted uncomfortably but said nothing. I said nothing. If I'd had my way they'd have paid us to put up with their crap for twenty minutes.
I was saved from further moral dilemma by the arrival of my burger. As I tried to edge past the mannerless little darlings I heard one of the fathers say, "I'm sure one of your friends took it as a joke, Henry." I had to utter "Excuse me, please," four times with increasing volume before they unclogged the door en route to their people carriers.
So yes, I found some money. More importantly, I found a sense of righteousness and justice against smug middle-class parenting.
( , Mon 10 Nov 2008, 12:48, 6 replies)
The following is NOT original.
I found Jesus.
On a tram.
I said "are you Jesus?"
he said "Yes. Yes I am".
(tip of hat to original poet)
( , Mon 10 Nov 2008, 12:44, 1 reply)
I found Jesus.
On a tram.
I said "are you Jesus?"
he said "Yes. Yes I am".
(tip of hat to original poet)
( , Mon 10 Nov 2008, 12:44, 1 reply)
da Vinci's notebook
I was on holiday in Italy when we thought it would be fun to visit Vinci, birthplace of the great man himself. So imagine my surprise when I fell down a concealed well and discovered an old leather-bound ledger containing some lost designs of Leonardo. Here's just some of them:
A prototype TV - essentially a box into which a midget would crawl and perform upon a variety of miniature instruments. It even had volume control in the form of some wooden noise baffles.
A pair of roller skates. The rollers were made of wood and the boots of sheepskin. Ingeniously, they also had gears, which were selected with a long gear shift attached to each boot.
A mountain bike - constructed from double-butted titanium tubing and with disk brakes fashioned from small dinner plates, this was the hottest gift for aristocrats that Christmas of 1423.
The death helmet - an armoured helmet full of snakes, poison, spikes, gunpowder and nettles. It was probably intended for enemies and came with a padded chin strap.
Knob puppet theatre - although the plans are vague, this appears to be a table-top stage set with puppets into which a group of men insert their rigid members.
Warm boots - iron boots full of flaming oil, these were intended for the cold winters of northern Italy. But only when it was at war with the south.
( , Mon 10 Nov 2008, 12:44, 2 replies)
I was on holiday in Italy when we thought it would be fun to visit Vinci, birthplace of the great man himself. So imagine my surprise when I fell down a concealed well and discovered an old leather-bound ledger containing some lost designs of Leonardo. Here's just some of them:
A prototype TV - essentially a box into which a midget would crawl and perform upon a variety of miniature instruments. It even had volume control in the form of some wooden noise baffles.
A pair of roller skates. The rollers were made of wood and the boots of sheepskin. Ingeniously, they also had gears, which were selected with a long gear shift attached to each boot.
A mountain bike - constructed from double-butted titanium tubing and with disk brakes fashioned from small dinner plates, this was the hottest gift for aristocrats that Christmas of 1423.
The death helmet - an armoured helmet full of snakes, poison, spikes, gunpowder and nettles. It was probably intended for enemies and came with a padded chin strap.
Knob puppet theatre - although the plans are vague, this appears to be a table-top stage set with puppets into which a group of men insert their rigid members.
Warm boots - iron boots full of flaming oil, these were intended for the cold winters of northern Italy. But only when it was at war with the south.
( , Mon 10 Nov 2008, 12:44, 2 replies)
money
strange knack for finding it. im not kidding... iv found about £50 + all in the last year in assorted notes on the floor.
( , Mon 10 Nov 2008, 12:43, Reply)
strange knack for finding it. im not kidding... iv found about £50 + all in the last year in assorted notes on the floor.
( , Mon 10 Nov 2008, 12:43, Reply)
ebay jeans
Bought some "new" jeans on ebay for £10.
When they arrived I was convinced they were not new as claimed, so I queried this with the seller and got a load of verbal abuse in return.
So when I first wore them and discovered a £20 note in the pocket I took great delight in emailing the seller back to say I didn't mind they weren't new as the money I found in the pocket made up for it!
( , Mon 10 Nov 2008, 12:41, 1 reply)
Bought some "new" jeans on ebay for £10.
When they arrived I was convinced they were not new as claimed, so I queried this with the seller and got a load of verbal abuse in return.
So when I first wore them and discovered a £20 note in the pocket I took great delight in emailing the seller back to say I didn't mind they weren't new as the money I found in the pocket made up for it!
( , Mon 10 Nov 2008, 12:41, 1 reply)
“I’m 66 you know!”
In 1935 I found the sacred Shankara stones and freed a village from tyranny
In 1936 I found the Ark of the Covenant
In 1938 I found the bloody Holy Grail!
In 1957 I found that some things are better left to rest, and that an over reliance on nostalgia and wank CGI is no substitute for a decent script.
( , Mon 10 Nov 2008, 12:28, 4 replies)
In 1935 I found the sacred Shankara stones and freed a village from tyranny
In 1936 I found the Ark of the Covenant
In 1938 I found the bloody Holy Grail!
In 1957 I found that some things are better left to rest, and that an over reliance on nostalgia and wank CGI is no substitute for a decent script.
( , Mon 10 Nov 2008, 12:28, 4 replies)
Disappointing Doc Porn
On my first day at work in a hospital in south London, I spent the entire morning clearing out my office. The previous occupant was a consultant who dealt with, among other things, sex-change operations. The place was a tip: every inch of carpet, desk and shelving was covered in tall piles of books, papers and files. After several hours of carrying this stuff down to the basement, I had only the desk to clear. The drawers were empty save for two items: a brand new bible, still wrapped in cellophane and a VHS tape with a label marked 'TABU 66'in felt pen. I wondered if this might be something to do with the sex-change ops: it was not. Yup, it was a porno. And a bad 1970s German one at that. It also had some cartoons including an X-rated version of Snow White. I later found out the bible was a present from the departmental secretary who was a Jehovah's Witness. The tape's origins remain a mystery.
( , Mon 10 Nov 2008, 12:11, Reply)
On my first day at work in a hospital in south London, I spent the entire morning clearing out my office. The previous occupant was a consultant who dealt with, among other things, sex-change operations. The place was a tip: every inch of carpet, desk and shelving was covered in tall piles of books, papers and files. After several hours of carrying this stuff down to the basement, I had only the desk to clear. The drawers were empty save for two items: a brand new bible, still wrapped in cellophane and a VHS tape with a label marked 'TABU 66'in felt pen. I wondered if this might be something to do with the sex-change ops: it was not. Yup, it was a porno. And a bad 1970s German one at that. It also had some cartoons including an X-rated version of Snow White. I later found out the bible was a present from the departmental secretary who was a Jehovah's Witness. The tape's origins remain a mystery.
( , Mon 10 Nov 2008, 12:11, Reply)
Just your average village pub...
Only last week I was at the bar in my local pub when I happened to glance down and saw a pristine, uncrinkled, £10 note lying on the floor.
As her majesty’s aged round face enigmatically stared at me from the ground…I felt as if she was silently beckoning me to acquaint myself with her papery goodness on a more personal level.
So I checked around, and satisfied that nobody was looking…I reached down to the floor, picked up the glorious brown drinking token and immediately heard someone shout “Oi!”.
Fanny fudge.
I don’t really know the bloke who shouted out, but I think he’s called ‘Ossie’ or ‘Sammy’ or something…anyway, he’s a big tall cunt with a turban and a beard that hangs almost all the way down to his bullet-belt.
Now I’m not a racist, but I reckon he’s trouble, that one – and besides…nobody really likes him cos he keeps picking on the crusty old German bloke who sits in the corner sporting a Chaplin moustache and a Jimmy Carr hairstyle…I think he’s called ‘Aidy’ or ‘Addy’.
Either way, bless him, I don’t think he’s ever meant anybody any harm, he just keeps muttering about something or other that was meant to ‘last for a thousand years’ but apparently only lasted about 6. He should have kept the receipt I reckon…
Then again, I’m not so sure about him sometimes…his face always goes a bit twitchy when he’s glaring at the young, blonde haired, blue eyed girl who for what seems like the last year or so has been sitting by the bar with just a packet of quavers, a glass of Ribena and a toy Portuguese donkey.
She’s on her own quite a bit but I think she’s sometimes looked after by this pompous, toffee-nosed bell-end who regularly swaggers in looking like a ponced up version of Freddie Mercury and insists on being called ‘Your Lordship’…
I don’t even think he’s her real dad, but he seems to share babysitting duties with this obnoxious, fat, sweaty old unit called ‘Cap’n Bob’ – who does nothing but read the newspapers all day and whine about his pension. Either way, they stay out of my way so I leave them to it…Their lifestyle choices are no concern of mine and all that.
On the night in question it just so happened to be karaoke night – and little did I know what an extra treat I was in for. First up was a proper nutter who insists on being called ‘Richey’, and tends to get a tad mardy when I call him ‘Dick’…but I ask you, how else could you describe a bloke with strange words and numbers cut into his arm? Fucking fruit-loop if you ask me.
Anyhoo, he blurted out some song or other about empty motorbikes…I wasn’t really paying attention…well that was until ‘Gez’, the new bloke in town, strolled on and sang from what I can gather appeared to be a track about a ‘street of bakers’…which wasn’t too bad on the whole.
I was a bit disappointed ‘cos there was also some big fat fuck in a jumpsuit who the barmaid says has got a pretty decent voice, but as it turned out he was too busy chowing down on cheeseburgers to do a turn.
But back to the action…there’s me and Ossie squaring up and preparing to kick off regarding the unclaimed ‘Pavarotti’ – he’s spouting off some gobbledegook about ‘Jihads’ or ‘Yee-Ha’s or whatever, and I’m telling him I’m gonna rip off his gut-stick and feed it to him…when suddenly…who should poke his massive hooter in but bloody ‘J. Hova’, the goody-two shoes who seems to have been around for ever, and looks a bit like an Isreali version of Robert Powell wearing half a rose bush as a hat.
Well, he tries to calm things down by suggesting we split the tenner between us. When I tell him to go and fuck himself, he says he’s going to ‘tell his dad’. Ha! A grown bloke who goes scuttling off crying to his old man and can’t do anything unless ‘Daddy says its ok’… what a pee-narse!
By buggeration we all gave him some shit for that comment…and me and Ossie were laughing so much it actually did help diffuse the situation…but then it certainly helped a lot more when the ‘Hova’ bloke tried to win us back over by pulling off this quality magic trick…which consisted of nipping off to the lavs and returning with what seemed like a never-ending supply of Pinot Grigio! Get in there! Paul Daniels eat your fucking heart out!
All in all it was a pretty good night, so I decided to do the decent thing at last orders and use my momentous monetary discovery to get the round in for everybody…but don’t you know it, after I’d bought Ossie and Aidy and Richey and His Lordship and Gez and Capn’ Bob and the little girl and Mr Hova and the Cheeseburger eating fat fuck a drink each I was £15 quid out of pocket!
So I suppose I didn’t really find anything. Sorry for wasting your time.
( , Mon 10 Nov 2008, 11:53, 9 replies)
Only last week I was at the bar in my local pub when I happened to glance down and saw a pristine, uncrinkled, £10 note lying on the floor.
As her majesty’s aged round face enigmatically stared at me from the ground…I felt as if she was silently beckoning me to acquaint myself with her papery goodness on a more personal level.
So I checked around, and satisfied that nobody was looking…I reached down to the floor, picked up the glorious brown drinking token and immediately heard someone shout “Oi!”.
Fanny fudge.
I don’t really know the bloke who shouted out, but I think he’s called ‘Ossie’ or ‘Sammy’ or something…anyway, he’s a big tall cunt with a turban and a beard that hangs almost all the way down to his bullet-belt.
Now I’m not a racist, but I reckon he’s trouble, that one – and besides…nobody really likes him cos he keeps picking on the crusty old German bloke who sits in the corner sporting a Chaplin moustache and a Jimmy Carr hairstyle…I think he’s called ‘Aidy’ or ‘Addy’.
Either way, bless him, I don’t think he’s ever meant anybody any harm, he just keeps muttering about something or other that was meant to ‘last for a thousand years’ but apparently only lasted about 6. He should have kept the receipt I reckon…
Then again, I’m not so sure about him sometimes…his face always goes a bit twitchy when he’s glaring at the young, blonde haired, blue eyed girl who for what seems like the last year or so has been sitting by the bar with just a packet of quavers, a glass of Ribena and a toy Portuguese donkey.
She’s on her own quite a bit but I think she’s sometimes looked after by this pompous, toffee-nosed bell-end who regularly swaggers in looking like a ponced up version of Freddie Mercury and insists on being called ‘Your Lordship’…
I don’t even think he’s her real dad, but he seems to share babysitting duties with this obnoxious, fat, sweaty old unit called ‘Cap’n Bob’ – who does nothing but read the newspapers all day and whine about his pension. Either way, they stay out of my way so I leave them to it…Their lifestyle choices are no concern of mine and all that.
On the night in question it just so happened to be karaoke night – and little did I know what an extra treat I was in for. First up was a proper nutter who insists on being called ‘Richey’, and tends to get a tad mardy when I call him ‘Dick’…but I ask you, how else could you describe a bloke with strange words and numbers cut into his arm? Fucking fruit-loop if you ask me.
Anyhoo, he blurted out some song or other about empty motorbikes…I wasn’t really paying attention…well that was until ‘Gez’, the new bloke in town, strolled on and sang from what I can gather appeared to be a track about a ‘street of bakers’…which wasn’t too bad on the whole.
I was a bit disappointed ‘cos there was also some big fat fuck in a jumpsuit who the barmaid says has got a pretty decent voice, but as it turned out he was too busy chowing down on cheeseburgers to do a turn.
But back to the action…there’s me and Ossie squaring up and preparing to kick off regarding the unclaimed ‘Pavarotti’ – he’s spouting off some gobbledegook about ‘Jihads’ or ‘Yee-Ha’s or whatever, and I’m telling him I’m gonna rip off his gut-stick and feed it to him…when suddenly…who should poke his massive hooter in but bloody ‘J. Hova’, the goody-two shoes who seems to have been around for ever, and looks a bit like an Isreali version of Robert Powell wearing half a rose bush as a hat.
Well, he tries to calm things down by suggesting we split the tenner between us. When I tell him to go and fuck himself, he says he’s going to ‘tell his dad’. Ha! A grown bloke who goes scuttling off crying to his old man and can’t do anything unless ‘Daddy says its ok’… what a pee-narse!
By buggeration we all gave him some shit for that comment…and me and Ossie were laughing so much it actually did help diffuse the situation…but then it certainly helped a lot more when the ‘Hova’ bloke tried to win us back over by pulling off this quality magic trick…which consisted of nipping off to the lavs and returning with what seemed like a never-ending supply of Pinot Grigio! Get in there! Paul Daniels eat your fucking heart out!
All in all it was a pretty good night, so I decided to do the decent thing at last orders and use my momentous monetary discovery to get the round in for everybody…but don’t you know it, after I’d bought Ossie and Aidy and Richey and His Lordship and Gez and Capn’ Bob and the little girl and Mr Hova and the Cheeseburger eating fat fuck a drink each I was £15 quid out of pocket!
So I suppose I didn’t really find anything. Sorry for wasting your time.
( , Mon 10 Nov 2008, 11:53, 9 replies)
Old QOTW Follow Up (but relevant)
A few weeks ago (on the Spolit Brats QOTW) I posted about writing my sons homework for him (For a dream diary).
I used two of the replies that were offered from the B3tans and on Friday I found (see told you it was relevant) a letter from my sons teacher requesting a parent teacher meeting with the words HIS FATHER MUST ATTEND written in bold on the bottom of the slip.
The wife has said I am not allowed to argue my case that some happy clappy write down your dreams crap is not a decent form of homework.
Should I go there and give this teacher my opinion (and risk a week of bitching and no nookie from my other half) or should I go and mumble an apology while looking at the floor?
( , Mon 10 Nov 2008, 11:50, 16 replies)
A few weeks ago (on the Spolit Brats QOTW) I posted about writing my sons homework for him (For a dream diary).
I used two of the replies that were offered from the B3tans and on Friday I found (see told you it was relevant) a letter from my sons teacher requesting a parent teacher meeting with the words HIS FATHER MUST ATTEND written in bold on the bottom of the slip.
The wife has said I am not allowed to argue my case that some happy clappy write down your dreams crap is not a decent form of homework.
Should I go there and give this teacher my opinion (and risk a week of bitching and no nookie from my other half) or should I go and mumble an apology while looking at the floor?
( , Mon 10 Nov 2008, 11:50, 16 replies)
I woke up and found a Mr Blue toilet cleaner in my hair
This was after going to a party, getting completely pissed, throwing up in the toilet and walking home to fall asleep. Being a long haired hippy it must have got caught in my hair while puking.
( , Mon 10 Nov 2008, 11:47, Reply)
This was after going to a party, getting completely pissed, throwing up in the toilet and walking home to fall asleep. Being a long haired hippy it must have got caught in my hair while puking.
( , Mon 10 Nov 2008, 11:47, Reply)
My brother* found a rabbit hutch.
Thankfully though, there was no rabbit inside.
On the way home from the pub one night and very much the worse for wear, he decided he had to pee. Creeping down the side of a house for a bit of privacy he knocked against a rabbit hutch, lost his balance and fell on top of it, smashing it to matchwood.
As previously mentioned, luckily it was empty so he didn't crush any poor defenceless bunnies, but the hutch was a disaster area.
I nearly died laughing when he told me the next day; just the thought of the noise he must have made going over cracks me up to this day. He didn't stay for that pee, just bunged some money through the front door and legged it.
*yes, the same brother from the "ate a pizza he found in the middle of the road" post. He's an animal when he's pissed =)
( , Mon 10 Nov 2008, 11:46, Reply)
Thankfully though, there was no rabbit inside.
On the way home from the pub one night and very much the worse for wear, he decided he had to pee. Creeping down the side of a house for a bit of privacy he knocked against a rabbit hutch, lost his balance and fell on top of it, smashing it to matchwood.
As previously mentioned, luckily it was empty so he didn't crush any poor defenceless bunnies, but the hutch was a disaster area.
I nearly died laughing when he told me the next day; just the thought of the noise he must have made going over cracks me up to this day. He didn't stay for that pee, just bunged some money through the front door and legged it.
*yes, the same brother from the "ate a pizza he found in the middle of the road" post. He's an animal when he's pissed =)
( , Mon 10 Nov 2008, 11:46, Reply)
It's tenuous time!
My first girlfriend's mother in law found Jesus. And I mean big time - she was an absolute stark raving lunatic.
This was confirmed one day at her house. This was back in the days of dial up, and they were with AOL. So inevitably, the internet usually worked every other day. So imagine how much laughter had to be suppressed when I caught this woman praying to god, asking him to make AOL work.
( , Mon 10 Nov 2008, 11:31, 2 replies)
My first girlfriend's mother in law found Jesus. And I mean big time - she was an absolute stark raving lunatic.
This was confirmed one day at her house. This was back in the days of dial up, and they were with AOL. So inevitably, the internet usually worked every other day. So imagine how much laughter had to be suppressed when I caught this woman praying to god, asking him to make AOL work.
( , Mon 10 Nov 2008, 11:31, 2 replies)
Places I have found myself.
The thing about living in London, I've mentioned before, is that it is so chock-full of things to do that it's surprisingly easy not to do anything. "Pfft", I say. "Buckingham Palace? That'll be here next week" or "Tower bridge? That's not going anywhere", and with this attitude I never actually go and see these things.
In recent months my weekends tend to have slipped into a pattern of going off to the country or slaughtering untold legions of villains and ne'er-do-wells on my computer and I've not done anything off the wall like judge a Russian Poetry competition in ages. As such, this weekend I decided to do something unusual and Londonny. Have a bit of an adventure. Whatever it was I ended up doing, I decided, it was going to be Out Of The Ordinary.
If, when I walked out of the house on Saturday morning with this intention, you'd told me that I'd be watching an episode of Thunderbirds with a full 80-piece orchestra providing live musical accompaniment and Brian Blessed (also live) booming "5...4...3...2...1!" and "THUNDERBIRDS ARE GO!" at appropriate moments I'm not sure I'd've believed you - which would have been a shame, as that's where I found myself a few hours later.
That's what I like about living in London. Anything can happen in the next half hour.
( , Mon 10 Nov 2008, 11:19, 10 replies)
The thing about living in London, I've mentioned before, is that it is so chock-full of things to do that it's surprisingly easy not to do anything. "Pfft", I say. "Buckingham Palace? That'll be here next week" or "Tower bridge? That's not going anywhere", and with this attitude I never actually go and see these things.
In recent months my weekends tend to have slipped into a pattern of going off to the country or slaughtering untold legions of villains and ne'er-do-wells on my computer and I've not done anything off the wall like judge a Russian Poetry competition in ages. As such, this weekend I decided to do something unusual and Londonny. Have a bit of an adventure. Whatever it was I ended up doing, I decided, it was going to be Out Of The Ordinary.
If, when I walked out of the house on Saturday morning with this intention, you'd told me that I'd be watching an episode of Thunderbirds with a full 80-piece orchestra providing live musical accompaniment and Brian Blessed (also live) booming "5...4...3...2...1!" and "THUNDERBIRDS ARE GO!" at appropriate moments I'm not sure I'd've believed you - which would have been a shame, as that's where I found myself a few hours later.
That's what I like about living in London. Anything can happen in the next half hour.
( , Mon 10 Nov 2008, 11:19, 10 replies)
I've found
that I am a popular target for pranks at work.
Said pranks include :
Being tricked into eating hot sauce - and nearly choking on it because I had such a violent reaction.
Constantly having people creep up behind me and grabbing me and going "BLARGH" in a really loud voice. I usually drop whatever I'm holding.
Also - I'm also a popular target for the short, lesbian jokes.
I'll get them back one day. I so will.
( , Mon 10 Nov 2008, 11:15, 9 replies)
that I am a popular target for pranks at work.
Said pranks include :
Being tricked into eating hot sauce - and nearly choking on it because I had such a violent reaction.
Constantly having people creep up behind me and grabbing me and going "BLARGH" in a really loud voice. I usually drop whatever I'm holding.
Also - I'm also a popular target for the short, lesbian jokes.
I'll get them back one day. I so will.
( , Mon 10 Nov 2008, 11:15, 9 replies)
Mrs Humpty and I
... found a house on the market a week ago.
It's a tiny farmhouse from 1902, and comes with 23,000 square meters of land.
(that's 5.7 acres or 2.3 hectares for your wurzles out there)
The house itself is in need of some love. the window frames are all rotten and need replacing, the walls require fully rendering, and we'd essentially want to re-build the entire thing.
However... there's 2 solid acres of apple trees. this place is a madly over-grown orchard in need of some serious work. My little missus works free-lance at the moment, and spends most of her time at home.... We'd clear half an acre of the trees to have as a lawn, flog a large portion of the land (it's a field on the other side of the road) and end up with a 1½ acre orchard with little sheep running around in it.
It's a little daunting... but we just put our first bid in. 1.045million Kronor That's 85,000quid.
Anyway.. we found it... we want it... and now it's bidding-war o'clock.
Scary as Fuck.... but kinda exciting too... :D
( , Mon 10 Nov 2008, 11:12, 9 replies)
... found a house on the market a week ago.
It's a tiny farmhouse from 1902, and comes with 23,000 square meters of land.
(that's 5.7 acres or 2.3 hectares for your wurzles out there)
The house itself is in need of some love. the window frames are all rotten and need replacing, the walls require fully rendering, and we'd essentially want to re-build the entire thing.
However... there's 2 solid acres of apple trees. this place is a madly over-grown orchard in need of some serious work. My little missus works free-lance at the moment, and spends most of her time at home.... We'd clear half an acre of the trees to have as a lawn, flog a large portion of the land (it's a field on the other side of the road) and end up with a 1½ acre orchard with little sheep running around in it.
It's a little daunting... but we just put our first bid in. 1.045million Kronor That's 85,000quid.
Anyway.. we found it... we want it... and now it's bidding-war o'clock.
Scary as Fuck.... but kinda exciting too... :D
( , Mon 10 Nov 2008, 11:12, 9 replies)
This question is now closed.