Ginger is still weird though.
Quite tasty in stirfry. I don't rate it much in cakes though.

Oh and ginger people are mostly ok.
(Fredz A graveyard of hopes, a dump of ambition, Thu 4 Mar 2010, 10:43, Reply)

True
But Darth's 'Last' game is better game than 'First'.
( Larry Vest One day at a time, sweet Jesus, FFS., Thu 4 Mar 2010, 10:42, Reply)

Oranges are orange
But ginger is a weird tan colour and pale white inside. Why is it called ginger then?
(Fredz A graveyard of hopes, a dump of ambition, Thu 4 Mar 2010, 10:40, 1 reply)

Nobody's a winner
with this QOTW
(SnowyTheWereRabbit the Leporid from Hell, Thu 4 Mar 2010, 10:38, Reply)

*struggles to think of a response to allow last post*

(Darth Foxtrot A one-man army dedicated to making fetch happen, Thu 4 Mar 2010, 10:38, Reply)

Meh -
Yah Yay
( Larry Vest One day at a time, sweet Jesus, FFS., Thu 4 Mar 2010, 10:36, Reply)

That was worryingly teutonic

(Darth Foxtrot A one-man army dedicated to making fetch happen, Thu 4 Mar 2010, 10:34, Reply)

Yah me! Winner!

( Larry Vest One day at a time, sweet Jesus, FFS., Thu 4 Mar 2010, 10:31, Reply)

*takes ball, goes home*

(Darth Foxtrot A one-man army dedicated to making fetch happen, Thu 4 Mar 2010, 10:30, Reply)

I'm not playing this game.

( Larry Vest One day at a time, sweet Jesus, FFS., Thu 4 Mar 2010, 10:27, Reply)

So is Willow in Buffy
Obvious, but I'm in a hurry.

THE end
(Darth Foxtrot A one-man army dedicated to making fetch happen, Thu 4 Mar 2010, 10:24, Reply)

Bianca off Corrie is well lush.
The end.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Thu 4 Mar 2010, 10:23, Reply)

For no reason
Other than to annoy Larry

*waves*
(Darth Foxtrot A one-man army dedicated to making fetch happen, Thu 4 Mar 2010, 10:11, 2 replies)

Last!
For the love of God - last please.
( Larry Vest One day at a time, sweet Jesus, FFS., Thu 4 Mar 2010, 9:37, 4 replies)

AssauIt charge? Yes Please!
I was mercilessly picked on from day one at high school - was I the ginger? Was I Fuck.

The miserable fire haired mole had red pubic head hair all the way past her fat ass. made every day a living hell. Never found out why; I wasnt anything special at school, never said boo etc etc etc

I hear shes a cop now, If I saw her in the street (and I pray for the day) I will GLADLY smash her face in. Cop or not, thats an assualt charge I will have tattoed on me and engraved on my headstone.

Fuck Karma, Im Gonna Give Whats Coming To Her.

BTW her name is KATE
(how did I make it past childhood, Thu 4 Mar 2010, 3:50, 12 replies)

...mom
I once knew an...interesting bloke by the name of Joel (subtly changed) and he was definately a full on ginge, now there are many reasons I have for disliking him (his god complex/way he thinks the world owes him everything) but the one memory that sticks in my mind happened at a mates house around 4 years ago and is now legendary among us (or was til we hit uni)

there were 4 of us sat in the mates room, drinking, playing on the ps2 and looking at pr0n as you do aged 16, and this was all going well until Joel seemed to go quiet, followed by an all too familiar fapping sound, he was indeed stroking his salty salami, in front of us all, and not only that, the whole time mouthing the word 'mom' up until he had managed to spaff in his hands, wipe it on his pyjamas (yeah he had brought them to get drunk in) and then took a controller and joined us on the ps2 again.

And this is why still, whenever the subject of Joel comes up, the word mom is used.

Bit shit I know but 'pop' and 'will try harder next time...'
(Fizzcanon, Thu 4 Mar 2010, 3:28, 1 reply)

It's a knock-out...
You know that game where you knock on a stranger's door and run off, laughing like a goon? Well, in Bristol, where I gert live, that game just happens to be called 'Knock Out Ginger'. As you can imagine, on games days at school I used to be chased with kids armed with cricket bats shouting it...

Since then, I've been mercilessly teased by friends and colleques. I can't leave a company without some wag buying me ginger nut biscuits, root ginger, ginger shampoo, ginger beer or sticking a 'GINGA' numberplate on my car...

I guess it's all harmless fun, but I do feel that it's starting to border on acceptable racism. I keep hearing the phrase 'As popular as a ginger stepchild' being used and can't help feel sorry for ginger stepkids who get beaten up or abused.

Try using the phrase 'As popular as a black stepchild' in your next presentation and see where it gets you...
(Shocktactix Because I'm worth it..., Wed 3 Mar 2010, 23:52, 2 replies)

Actually
I have ginger hair, and I can assure you I've never had trouble with girls!
They've always kept their distance.
( browser still relating boring anecdotes into a void on, Wed 3 Mar 2010, 23:28, 1 reply)

Sorry,
to jump on the short-blunt post bandwagon, but:

My ex was a ginge, very hot but a reet mental!
(burkyman, Wed 3 Mar 2010, 22:02, Reply)

Peter Crouch
is a ginger
( Bootsthealchemist is barred from the Masterchef Facebook page, Wed 3 Mar 2010, 21:22, 2 replies)

Having a go at Gingers
Is as bad as racism.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Wed 3 Mar 2010, 17:11, 22 replies)

I have ginger hair!!
Never really got called names.

Never had trouble with girls.

Don't have loads of freckles.

Don't burn instantly in the sun.

Pretty boring really!
(Dr. Gonzo, Wed 3 Mar 2010, 16:10, 4 replies)

Two ginger twins walking down Buchanan Street in Glasgow
My brother shouted: Doppelginger!

By their reaction, I think they'd heard that one before. But I was amused. My brother must have been eight years old at the time, so English-German language/ ging humour at his age was pretty damn impressive.
( drunkenoaf, Wed 3 Mar 2010, 15:08, Reply)

Cornflake Girl & Raw Chicken
Back in my early twenties I found myself – for want of any direction, meaning, or purpose in life – knee deep in Arabs in the sweatbox hellhole also known as Marrakesh. My advice on Marrakesh: don’t go there. It’s shit. Imagine you’re confronted by the fattest sweatiest harpy you’ve ever come across in your life. A girl the size of a tower block with great big rolls of flab hanging loose off her carcass and obscuring her fat fucking knees. Now imagine you’re but naked with your nose buried deep up her sweaty, pock-marked, wobbly arse crack in the classic 69 position as she repeatedly slams a meat tenderising mallet into your nutsack. That’s Marrakesh. Stinky and incredibly unbearable on so many levels.

So I found myself wandering round the Moroccan equivalent of Sainsburys – a place where if some random local didn’t attempt to lob a rabid monkey on your shoulder, take a photo, then charge you a shitload of money for the pleasure, you’d feel like you’d just won the lottery. And then I see her.

She looked like that mental bird who did that Cornflakes song, that Tori Amos. Who, I have to admit, had been the source of several wank fantasies during my teenage years (got to the point where I couldn’t look at a box of cornflakes without getting a raging boner). Being bored, hot, and sweaty I decided to give it a crack – and maybe get some hot and sweaty action of a different kind that didn’t involve any monkey-chucking, photo-taking, cash-stealing.

I sidled up to this girl, said hello. She turned and said hello back. Yes! She speaks English! Not only that, English is her first language. She turned out to be one of those semi-Americans, or what some people might call ‘Canadian’. We ended up going for a drink to cool down. Iced cold mint tea. Very nice.

I found myself strangely attracted to her hair. Soft coppery stuff that fell across her porcelain white skin whenever she tilted her head to one side and smiled. She was doing this a lot. I took this as a good sign. And once you got past the fact she looked like she was walking round Marrakesh after a particularly intense bukkake session (she was smothered in greasy white suntan lotion), she was actually pretty damn cute. OK, she was a bit of a new-age hippy type, but that’s ok with me. Damn it, I’ve even fucked the occasional Tory in my time.

So, with this in mind, I suggested we moved on to alcohol so I could get her pissed and have a go on her.

Fast forward a four or five hours, I’m in her hotel room and its absolutely magical! SHE HAS AIR CONDITIONING! I’m enjoying this as we slip out our cloths and get down to the mechanical act of having a quick no-strings fuck. And within moments I’ve slid down her lithe little form and I’m positioned between her wide open legs. She’s panting like a dying fox, and in the moonlight I look down at her silky slash and prepare to sup the furry cup. And I’m absolutely petrified. This girls pubes were radioactive. They glowed a shocking GINGER in the dark. It looked like something out of the X Files. There was an eerie sort of aura about her gash, it was alluring and scary all at the same time. Shit! I thought. Maybe her pussy’s haunted?

But I didn’t have time to think about this too much. My ginge Canadian fuck buddy for the night rammed my head down onto her floppy slimelips and I started playing the hairy harmonica for all I was worth. And I was a little disgusted (which I suppose is never a bad thing while you've got a stonking hard on). Not too sure why, but gingers tend to taste like raw chicken. Not a very pleasant experience. But, strangely, my involuntary retching action drove my nose down hard onto her clit and this seemed to drive her wild. She writhed about like she’d just been set on fire. I continued to eat my undercooked fur burger while trying my damdest not to puke all over her cunt. It was pretty damn sexy.

We finished up with some regulation drunken fuckery and when I woke up the next morning we went for a quick bite to eat and then I fucked off to my own place. Job done. No telephone numbers, no addresses, the only thing we’d exchange was a range of bodily fluids. Then I went back to my place.

A few days later I saw her – think her name was Carley or Harley – from a distance in the bar we’d spent that evening in. Her slight figure, her long coppery hair. She stood out like a redheaded beacon of joy. Her shimmering hair looked more beautiful tonight too. Much more, well, sexy... I was half pissed at the time so the only possible course of action was to go and have another crack, see if she’d let me fuck her again.

So I walked over to the table, she had her head down and was reading or snorting coke. I stroked her hair and said one of my most romantic lines: “Would you like me to make you cum like a train, darlin?”

Carley or Harley looked up, pulled back the hair from her face and gazed at me with a look of utter horror and disgust. Then: “Fuck off!”

And I did fuck off – quickly. Very quickly indeed. Carley or Harley had somehow transformed into a skinny redheaded bloke with long wavy hair from Leyton... Gorgeous hair, though. Bloody lovely sexy hair...
( SpankyHanky, Wed 3 Mar 2010, 12:09, 6 replies)

Red body hair, my beard, and the internet.
This is the tale of these three, nothing particularly spectacular, but I have story to tell, so damnit I will.

So, being the lonely single type I was, I was posting about on a dating site, giving a general description of myself I let slip that my beard liked to grow in quite red. I get a hit quite quickly. With great anticipation I open the email sent to me, she asks "Is all your body hair red?" I tell her, that sadly(or not), it isn't. She replies with "That's too bad, red body hair really gets me going, I'd have to jump your bones."
I didn't think it was too bad, as any woman that'd sleep with an internet person due strictly to red shorthairs is probably someone I don't want anything to do with.
(UndeadChicken Eating poultry farmers since 1987, Wed 3 Mar 2010, 12:07, 1 reply)

All this talk of "discrimination" from Gingers
Has anyone ever been actually discriminated against (other than childish name-calling in the playground, which is hardly surprising considering how politically incorrect children generally are)? Actual discrimination such as being denied a job, or service or good, because they're ginger?

It would be interesting to hear.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Wed 3 Mar 2010, 11:50, 16 replies)

I've just found this
www.militantginger.com/2009/12/more-ginger-discrimination-from-britain.html

Words fail me. I'm a ginger and proud of it but wankers like this take it to extremes. Sadface, OFFLINE.
( Blue Star was working part time at the 5 and Dime, Wed 3 Mar 2010, 11:38, 1 reply)

I actually
Quite like redheads. A nice coppery colour, or an auburn, is very attractive. I do share the British dislike of the human Wotsit, however.

Can somebody tell me why people always assume ginger hair is indicative of the Celtic fringe, though? I've seen loads of people, mainly Americans it has to be said, talking about "Irish redheads". All the Irish I've ever met have been properly dark. Same for the Welsh and as I come from Scottish stock and all that side of my family are also dark, I'm a bit confused as to where this came from.

If anything, red hair would be a Scandinavian trait, since it's a form of blond. That would actually make the English more susceptible to it since they've got higher proportions of Saxon/Danish descent.

Ca't say I'm expecting too many serious responses, but I am genuinely interested.
( Kroney, Wed 3 Mar 2010, 11:03, 9 replies)

Ginger Geezer
The lovely Viv Stanshall

www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y0_YhzTxji4
( Bootsthealchemist is barred from the Masterchef Facebook page, Wed 3 Mar 2010, 10:14, Reply)

Dad & Eddie
The only thing I inherited from my dad (who was ginge, I'm told) was a few dozen ginger hairs that infest my otherwise blonde beard.

On a nicer note, I once had a ginger cat called Eddie. I loved him to bits and still miss him every day.
(greatoldone Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl f'tagn, Wed 3 Mar 2010, 9:30, 1 reply)