Contracting Ginger
Roskilde Festival, Denmark a few years back. 2 AM. Nice warm summers evening.

A group of us are sat round a stereo in the camping area, basking in the glow of the nearby electric lights. As you do at Roskilde, we’d got chatting to a group of Danes and were busy downing strong, weird Scandinavian spirits and sharing some of the strongest grass I’ve ever had the pleasure to fuck my system up with.

One of my mates, Sean, declares with absolute authority that he needs to go for a piss. He staggers to his feet, joint hanging out his gob, and weaves towards the perimeter fence in the style of a man who was being pushed too and froe by a really fucking angry poltergeist.

We forget about Sean, and after another twenty minutes or so one of the Danes – a big brutish fella who looked like Hagar the Horrible in a Metallica t-shirt, slinks off to hose the bushes too.

We carry on drinking and smoking, and just as we’re about to come up with the formula for a special elixir to cure all known diseases, Hagar the Horrible returns at a lolloping run: “Your friend!” he says in this strange harsh-edged accent, we could see his face screwed up in concentration, trying to convert the Danish in his head into English for us to understand. We stared back at him, nonplussed, the weed was so strong we felt like he was communicating with us from a parallel dimension. Then he said: “Your flame haired friend! Come!” And he went lolloping off again into the night.

This was a bit of a turn up for the books. Sean was a bit of a wanker, but we were all pretty damn sure he wasn’t a ginge. Surely someone would’ve noticed before and ripped the piss out of him relentlessly for it? A few of us, fighting back the narcotics and alcohol, stagger to our feet and follow our new Danish friend into the night.

Sean – ginger??? I just couldn’t quite grasp the concept. Then I had a thought, now I’m no scientist but: Maybe all those chemicals in what we’re smoking and drinking had altered his DNA (or summit) and made him a fucking GINGE!!! Then the angry poltergeist grabbed me firmly behind my knees and started making my legs move in an incredibly fucked up way, like I had no bones in my legs. After a bit of walking like I’d just shat my pants, I found myself stood with the others surrounding a prostrate figure on the ground with his pants round his ankles and his bare arse mooning the moon. It was Sean.

Sean looks up at us, and then I realize there’s smoke coming off his head. “Dunno how I did it, but I managed to set fire to my own fucking hair while I was unbuckling my trousers! And I lost my fucking doobie! And where the fuck's my booze? I had a bottle of fucking booze! I did have a bottle of fucking booze didn't-fucking-I???” He says.

Hagar the Horrible points: “Flame hair!” with a big shit-eating grin and starts laughing like an eighteen wheeler truck turning over. Then he makes a sort of explosion sound above his own head with added crackling sound effects as way of explanation.

Sean continues patting at his locks that now resembled a pubic wig in a large patch on top of his bonce, grumbling to himself about having mud stuck under his foreskin and piss running down his legs.

We turn as one and start walking away. Another one of the English lads, my mate Dave, looks at me and says: “You were thinking what I was thinking, weren’t ya?”

I nod: “Yeah, for one awful fucking moment there I thought we were all gonna contract ginger…”

“’S a worry – do you think Sean will be ok?” asked Dave.

I gave Dave’s question my full consideration: “Fuck him. Now where the fuck did we leave our fucking tent?”
( SpankyHanky, Thu 25 Feb 2010, 14:54, 2 replies)

I'm a ginger
but by choice (although my real hair colour does have naturally red highlights).
And my favourite bartender down the local pub is a ginge.

Right, that was fun. See you next week.
( Batshitmentalist is sane for once, Thu 25 Feb 2010, 14:54, Reply)

I am ginger
Nothing amusing or interesting has ever come about because of it.

The End.
(McChinaman banned, Thu 25 Feb 2010, 14:50, Reply)

I just remembered this one, but no more this week from me, honest.
When we first moved to York, back in the early 1990s I got a job behind the bar in a Toby Grill on the outskirts of town. This was a big place that was half restaurant and half bar, and aimed at the family market. One Saturday sticks in my mind, it was a sunny summer's day and the place was emptying out after a busy lunchtime...

One family had arrived late for lunch, had been served, had eaten and the parents were lingering over their coffees. They obviously wanted a bit of time on their own, so they brought the kids through to the bar, which was practically empty and asked me and the other barman whether the kids were allowed to play a game or two of pool.

"No problem sir, we'll keep an eye on them."

The pool table was in a corner of the bar which was surrounded by large windows - it was a conservatory-type place with bamboo furniture. The dad got out a couple of 20p pieces and the parents buggered off back to the restaurant for some peace and quiet while the kids set up the balls.

What haven't I told you? Oh yes, the kids: the boy was probably about 12 and looked like the young Prince Harry and his sister was probably about four years older. She was also stunningly pretty with cute freckles and long, silky hair that could be described as 'strawberry blonde' with no hint of sarcasm whatsoever. It was the same quality and texture as that girl's hair from the Timotei ad, and the sun streaming in through the conservatory windows made it look like dark, spun honey.

Not only that, but she was wearing a summer dress which also had the sun shining through it, showing the shape of her gorgeous legs or fine breasts whenever she was silhouetted against the windows. But it didn't end there. At one point, she had to take a tricky shot, which involved her standing on tip-toes with one leg while lifting the other up and putting her knee on the edge of the table while she reached at full stretch to make the shot. Her hem lifted dangerously far up her silken thigh, the outline of her bikini-cut knickers clear to us, thirty feet away behind the bar.

We both moaned quietly and I broke the silence:

"Christ I'd like to lick her ginger minge."
(Che Grimsdale Best before:, Thu 25 Feb 2010, 14:50, 3 replies)

Any redheaded woman could make fool out of me.
At least one has.
*sighs*

edit I suppose in an attempt to make something of this qotw we could just post ginger jokes. Or any jokes.
Actually, pre-election analysis would be an improvement.
( Larry Vest One day at a time, sweet Jesus, FFS., Thu 25 Feb 2010, 14:48, 2 replies)

Hotel Chocolat
Do a crystalised ginger and lemon minislab, it is pretty fucking awesome.
(Psymon_Spark Jesus Saves! The rest of you take 4d6 damage, Thu 25 Feb 2010, 14:48, Reply)

Ehhhhh.
Ginger is a tuber that is consumed whole as a delicacy, medicine, or spice. It is the rhizome of the plant Zingiber officinale. It lends its name to its genus and family (Zingiberaceae). Other notable members of this plant family are turmeric, cardamom, and galangal.

Ginger cultivation began in Asia and has since spread to West Africa and the Caribbean. It is sometimes called root ginger to distinguish it from other things that share the name ginger.

...it's gonna be a long week.

(For the sake of vaguely attempting to be on-topic: I like redheads, dated one for a while, she was mental, collars and cuffs matched, boring non-story is boring. Oh, and my hair once went a bit ginger when I lost a bet and had to bleach it.)
( Dave McF wrote some words on, Thu 25 Feb 2010, 14:47, Reply)

Bloody Nose
Being a dirty dirty ginger myself I'm fairly immune to the associated teasing etc which I experienced throughout my education.

However when I was but a wee fuzzy ginger hairball I was as lairy as the proverbial and liable to take a swing at anyone who dared question my unusual haircolour.

As impressionable young juniors each form was assigned a sixth former to take the register and carry out other menial tasks that the teachers got them to do so they could stay in the staff room and puff through another couple of lambert and butlers. Our sixth former was a bit of a bastard, a veritable stream of ginger abuse came my way. Until the day when in a fit of rage (what? I'm ginger remember a temper is par for the course) I punched him right on the conk and broke his nose.

The teasing stopped though, which was a result. Best detention ever.
(Psymon_Spark Jesus Saves! The rest of you take 4d6 damage, Thu 25 Feb 2010, 14:46, Reply)

My brother-out-law (Mrs Vagabond technically isn't actually Mrs) is ...y'know ...
one of them.

Very much so. I mean - proper stuff - proper shiny copper-coloured hair, skin so white it's racist, freckles, no soul - everything.

When he bought his car, he made sure he got a ginger one - "Huzzah!" we cried - "The Gingermobile!" we declared, "Let us celebrate your uniqueness and individuality!"

Then three - count them - three - more people on his street got exactly the same model and colour in the next six months.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Thu 25 Feb 2010, 14:42, Reply)

Did you know...
You can freeze fresh ginger and grate it from frozen?
( JeffTheDogFucker Can you dig it?, Thu 25 Feb 2010, 14:35, 6 replies)

Gin and Tonic
With a small piece of fresh ginger in it is full of win.

FACT.
( JeffTheDogFucker Can you dig it?, Thu 25 Feb 2010, 14:34, 2 replies)

I may be odd...
I am not a ginger, but on occasion as others have noted when I allow my beard to get to nearly a cm, I will notice one or two ginger hairs, along with some bright white ones. I am sure it's just localised freak genetics.

Not too long ago I went on a date with a doctor who happened to have ginger hair. Unfortunately she clearly didn't find my advances appealing so I never got to see if collar and cuff matched, so I am on a hunt for another. This I think makes me a ginger stalker.
(feedingtimeatthezoo day 1 of his bikini diet started, Thu 25 Feb 2010, 14:31, Reply)

Protest Anecdote
The last 14 days, eh?

Well, I've pretty much become a smoker. I've been a casual smoker (maybe one or two with a beer on a Saturday) for a while, but I think I've had about 5 a day (not much, I know) every day for about a week now.

I know it's bad for me. I know it could prove expensive. I know it's crap in that you have to go and stand outside in the winter...

Thing is, I fucking love smoking, and what with needing to find a new flat, working long hours at work, etc., I am a little bit stressed, right now, and am finding that very little else hits the spot.

Obviously, I could stop at any time if I wanted to (yeah, right....)
(SnowyTheWereRabbit the Leporid from Hell, Thu 25 Feb 2010, 14:30, 5 replies)

So?
Ginger or Bald?
(Gru being trolled since 1998, Thu 25 Feb 2010, 14:27, 2 replies)

Protest Anecdote
Me and the Mrs/ex split up the other week, I have since been thrown out of the local night club 3 times, not for fighting or really bad, just being generally pissed and falling over, except the last time when I sparked up in the middle of the dance floor (although, I don't remember). I need to find someone else to divert my attention to before they actually fucking bar me! Anyone know any good dating sites?


Yes I know it's a shite post but at least there's no mention of Gingers.
(Kip, Thu 25 Feb 2010, 14:25, 1 reply)

Not a ginger anecdote.
The other day I had to call out a British Gas engineer as we had no hot water or central heating. After about 10 mins of him doing stuff in the airing cupboard, I heard him walking about. Then I realised that he was going into each bedroom to bleed the radiators.

What's wrong with that? I hear you ask.

Earlier that day, I was putting away some clutter, primarily old computer components and I thought the best place to stash them was in the bedside cabinet. It just happened to be the one that contains the marital aids. So I stuck all the stuff in there. When I heard the engineer in my room, it suddenly hit me that I could not remember at all putting away the sex-toys after putting the other stuff away.
I had this vision of him having to step over things to get to the radiator.
For the rest of his visit, I couldn't look him in the eye and as soon as he went I sprinted upstairs to check. Fortunately, I had put them away.

Probably my biggest 'Phew! Thank fuck for that' moment in a long time.
( sandettie light vessel automatic New Twitter - @bollocksreally, Thu 25 Feb 2010, 14:18, 13 replies)

I'm ginger
For the record, "minger" does NOT rhyme with it. Years of bullying left me more upset at the flagrant perversion of the English poetic voice than anything else.

It's also interesting to note that, as we gingers go blonde rather than grey, we have to put up with Duracell/Tampon jokes for half our lives and Blonde jokes for the rest of it.
(Sivvus trolley collision in the fruit aisle led to a jam, Thu 25 Feb 2010, 14:18, 5 replies)

Just for the record,

I fucking love ginger. For Christmas, my daughter got me a box of sugar coated, crystallised ginger and I ate the whole lot. I'd already got myself some ginger marmalade to have on Sunday mornings on toast and there's always a chunk of fresh ginger in the kitchen for stir-frys and curries. If I have to have a soft drink at a pub, ginger beer is my favourite.

I have now exhausted the subject.
(Che Grimsdale Best before:, Thu 25 Feb 2010, 14:15, 6 replies)

I have a ginger friend
well more than one tbh.

But this one in particular - for a couple of years bout 5 years ago now, he went through a phase of trying to "hide" his gingerness.

There was:
the simple - a shaved head.

the also fairly simple - bleached blond look (more than once)
which, on one occasion, led to:

the strange - a shaved head with three mini blond mohawks running left right and centre (lasted about 10 days before it was shaved off)

other occasions involved spray-on hair dye:

the most ridiculous was the pink mohawk he appeared with one night for football "it's not pink, it's red" - it was almost flourescent

the funniest was the night he turned up for football with his hair sprayed silver - after half an hour it started pouring down and the dye ran all down his face.
(bamboozled Can hear you getting fatter, Thu 25 Feb 2010, 14:15, Reply)

I predict that the winner will be a ginger saying how hard their life is, followed by a swarm of other ginger people voting in agreement.

People with normal hair will be too busy to vote the joke and more light hearted replies as they'll be outside enjoying their social lives. Or the sun.
( Muns, Thu 25 Feb 2010, 14:14, 5 replies)

My wife is ginger
I don't mind at all.

/relurks
(porkinator is a Rock n Roll nerd!, Thu 25 Feb 2010, 14:13, 1 reply)

Sorry about this but...
I used to have a glass receptacle for my alcoholic drinks.

That's right, I had a gin jar.
( disasterprone "Pyjamas caused the Holocaust", Thu 25 Feb 2010, 14:09, 1 reply)

I shagged a ginger once.
Got into loads of shit with the RSPCA. I didn't know they were an endangered species.

Gorgeous little fluffy tailed bastards...
( TheMattInAHat has a particular... odour..., Thu 25 Feb 2010, 14:06, Reply)

This is without doubt the worst QOTW ever
Scope - zero.

Interest - zero.

The winner will either be:

a) a tired old ginger joke everyone's heard before
b) some ginger emo going on about how fucking hard it is being ginger.
(Errin C, Thu 25 Feb 2010, 14:04, 11 replies)

Gingers do have souls!!!!
www.youtube.com/watch?v=EY39fkmqKBM

Apparently.
( TheFinch is getting to grips with the complex plane on, Thu 25 Feb 2010, 14:04, Reply)

QOTW : Ginger
FFS can we change for a decent qotw this is ridiculous
(Nahla, Thu 25 Feb 2010, 14:02, Reply)

Can we vote with our feet and change this QOTW
to this: www.b3ta.com/questions/questionsyoudliketoask/post520773

Edit: Just put "Protest Anecdote (See www.b3ta.com/questions/ginger/post647009)" in the Subject line.
( sandettie light vessel automatic New Twitter - @bollocksreally, Thu 25 Feb 2010, 13:55, 2 replies)

Nice hair...
.. did you win it?
(tom.joad, Thu 25 Feb 2010, 13:50, Reply)

It's not like *I* lowered the tone of the conversation
I used to work for a pretty big IT firm with offices located all over Europe and the Middle East, handling distributor problems and providing first line support to account teams. A lot of the time, I'd receive emails from colleagues over in fuck-knows-where who I would never hear from again providing I did a good enough job addressing their queries and building whatever reports were needed.

One day I get support email forwarded to me from someone in Dubai looking for some missing inventory data, and the local team is having difficulty resolving this. No biggie; a few bits of tinkering around and the files are up and running.

A couple of hours later I get an email from the expat account manager, let's call him Mark, thanking me for my work as - and I quote here - 'it's not like we can trust these sandpeople to understand how a SAP system works'.

What the hell am I supposed to say here, exactly? The guy is by all means and purposes my superior, and the issue was a bit beyond the local team's grasp. Not to be rude, I email back:

'Hi Mark,

Thanks for getting back to me and letting me know the files have gone through without any problems. I'll talk to the UAE team about the steps needed to iron this out if it props up again so you can get a quicker response from them.

Foxy'

Polite answer, avoids the racist bullet shot at me. Be thankful I never need to hear from Mark again. Or so I think.

'Hey Foxy,

Don't worry about talking to the team, I don't understand what the hell they're going on about most of the time. Would much rather like to speak to someone who talks [sic] the Queen's English rather than some burkha-wearing sandy. I don't know any group I'd enjoying being seen with less.

Mark'

Why does everyone assume that just because I'm English, I must show some disgust to every non-white, non-Christian I've never met? I'm getting a bit tired of this now in all honesty, so I try and kill the conversation off.

'Mark,

I'm sure there are plenty of worse people out there than the 'sandies' you've willingly chosen to work with. It could turn out that under their burkhas they're ginger.

Foxy'

I then get a swift response accusing me of missing the joke and being offensive. Attached is a picture of Mark. Ginger Mark. Ginger, surrounded by bearded Muslims while he sports some whispy bum fluff Mark.

I send it back to him with his face crudely put onto a picture of Tusken Raiders. We never speak again except for a mailshot a few months later saying he was leaving the company.

Can't stand racists. Don't like gingers much either.
(FoxyBadger (try saying it backwards), Thu 25 Feb 2010, 13:42, Reply)