Holidays and Tools
Numero uno. On holiday a long time ago for a fortnight and one day we hit the beach. There were two guys who were not getting on. Blubberchups was oblivious, but the second guy was seething because 'Blubber' was hellishly annoying [think control and superiority complex] as well as being overbearing. We look round at the water, about to go in and have a good old summer holiday splash. I ask the second fella [top guy!] if anyone else is going in. His classic response:

"Nah, and Blubberchups better not, otherwise Greenpeace will be trying to drag him underwater like the retarded beached whale he is!"

Numero dos, Cub Scouts...a long time ago, in a life far far away was when I was a shit. The pack was split into two teams and we were losing. I wasn't happy, and especially as this dullard kid [who we shall label T, for it is both truthful and allows many alternative names] who hung round with the 'hard' kids in the year above me was primarily responsible. He treads back to the team line and I yelp at him, furious, "T, YOU SPANNER!"

Now, that's not exactly high-grade or impact insulting [even for ten years ago] but all of a sudden, Mr hard-o's face begins to collapse. Think like a gradually quickening rockslide, until he's red and runs around the hall, crying like a bust mains pipe.

Akela glares at me, sends me out and bollocks me bigtime. Eh, whatev. She was a bitch, and everybody in that Scout tribe still agrees with me. I heard a few years later T had pumped himself up on steroids.

Which makes him now a retarded spanner. :-)
(FightingComet got Boost Power on, Thu 4 Oct 2007, 17:39, Reply)