Bouncers (there seems to be a common element here)
a few weeks ago on a friday night out, i was forced by my friends to go to our local jumpin' jaks (a shitty nightclub chain).

we spent 10 minutes queuing up to get in, only for me to get pulled aside by the doorman, and told very gruffly "no trainers"

as a back history, since the age of 4, i've had several operations to correct my somewhat spacky feet, and as a result, it causes me considerable pain to wear shoes, as they lack the underfoot cushioning of trainers. to make up for this, i buy very non-descript trainers that can pass as shoes.

i explain this to the doorman, and it goes like this

doorman: "have you got a doctors note?"|
me: "doctors note? wtf?! you're not a school teacher"
doorman: "so, have you got one?"
me: "of course i havent, you tit. im on a night out, not on a fucking job interview"
doorman: "then you'll have to leave"
me: "not until i've spoken to your manager"
doorman: "why's that"
me: "because you've just discriminated against someone with a disablity"
doorman: "dont give me that, you little lying shit, thats not a disability"
me: "fuck you, i'll show you the scars"
*i begin to take off my shoe and sock*
doorman: "what the fuck d'ya think you're doing?"
me: "i'm providing proof of my ailment"
doorman: "alright mate, no need, i'll let you in this time"
me: "actually, fuck it, i'm not coming in. i've been insulted and discriminated before getting into the venue, therefore you're company doesnt deserve my money, and i'll make sure i relate this story to the local media, as well as sending a formal letter of complaint.".

to this day, im still not sure how i managed to pull this off with such a straight face, considering the total skinfull i;d had
( lo, the Greebo Warrior - Est. 2002, Thu 12 May 2005, 18:41, Reply)

Jesus Christ, where do I begin?!
Well, as is common knowledge, I work full-time at the fat farm.
It's just full of the fuckers. They make my life hell. They care about shovelling fatty burgers to idiots and therefore, feel they should try and make me care. CUNTS! the lot of 'em.
I'm constantly being told to speed up, despite there being no reason, or I'm told to put more effort into fucking sweeping.
One is called Emma, she's a right nasty bitch. Looks about fifty and she's only 26. She picks on everyone. Anyone who tells her to fuck off becomes her worst enemy (yeah, me). She can't handle people either, so if she loses an argument then she'll get the manager to back her up. Pair of utter cunts. In fact, all but one of the managers is like that. It doesn't matter, it's just Spackdonalds.
GAH!
Alright. This isn't interesting, but it's good to vent some spleen.
( Brown cow, Thu 12 May 2005, 18:35, Reply)

I'm a nice guy...
...normally, I'd help customers. I wouldn't go miles out my my way for them, but I would at least do something.

I prefer to do my jobsworthing in the direction of the management.

Unless I'm specifically helping out a colleague, (in which case your mileage my vary dependant on how much I like you or how big your tits are) I won't go out of my way at all for the job.

Cue TJ Hughes- a minimum-wage weekend job- having to call me up on a Thursday afternoon because someone's off sick and they need extra people in anyway because they're trying to refurbish.

TJH: "Hi. We're understaffed, could you come in for a few hours? Not many, just two or three. Say.. four till six?"
Beem: "Do I get paid extra?"
T: "Yes, you'll be paid."
B: "No no, do I get paid a better rate for this?"
T: "Um..."
*shuffling of papers, talking in background*
T: "No, it's normal rate, not time and a half or anything like that."
B: "Right. Not interested then, I'm afraid."

...not that I would have bothered anyway, but it's nice to know I've wasted their time slightly.

I also make a point in interviews and on the first day if they ask me if I have a mobile, that yes, I do, and no, they're not having the number. Not even to give them the false hope of being able to call me in for extra work and just not picking up the phone.

The catch is that I can't give my mobile number to my colleagues in case it filters up to management. Oh well.
(beemoh, Thu 12 May 2005, 18:33, Reply)

Love and Hate
First job out of University, Australian Department of Defence, 1979. I needed to get a writing pad, some pens, stuff like that. Off to the stationary supply area. Guy behind the counter - must have been just off the boat from Liverpool by his accent - had a pair of tattoos on his knuckles - "Love" and "Hate". Honest to God, I am telling the truth.

After telling him what I needed, he told me "Ye canna git anyfing wie out a req form!"

Of course - they introduced the dreaded stationary requisition form earlier that week.

"Well, can I get a req form to fill out?"

He ponders this for a while, then replied "Ye canna git anyfing wie out a req form!"

The discussion degenerated quickly from there.
(Maclir, Thu 12 May 2005, 18:29, Reply)

Car Rental too!
Like Mr.Jelly, I also work in car rent. If a customer is very rude or unhelpful, or in a hurry when they bring the car back (we get lots of 'better than you' types whizzing through) I like to try and ask them as many questions about where they left the car, is it full of fuel, any damage, etc. It is fun to watch them get close to the point of shoutyness but not quite because, after all, you're only doing your job.
Car rental is a REAL Jobsworth job. There are so many ways of thwarting people's progress. Some of them fun. Some of them not. Like when a lady turns up at 11pm with a voucher and no credit card and we can't do the rent because we need to take a deposit, and her mother has just died, and she starts crying and there's nothing you can do. Real nice.
(Rondette, Thu 12 May 2005, 18:24, Reply)

Baseball game
I was at a baseball game in San Diego last year. My brother in law and I went to buy some hot dogs and beer. We were asked for ID to buy the beer (we were both 35 at the time!) and of course, being Brits, we didn't have US drivers' licences or whatever other American documents would do the job. So I took out my passport, as it's the best form of ID we Limeys have.

"Sorry", said the guy at the stand. "We don't accept passports as ID". I started to get annoyed, as if my passport is good enough for US Immigration (and anyone who's visited the US will know what these guys are like!) then it should be good enough to buy two pints of weak beer at a ball game.

Eventually, the manager came and let us have our beers. But WTF?

OK, maybe I look a bit younger than my age (thanks ancestors, for the genes) but I'm damn sure I look more than 21.
( K2k6 has a proper job these days, Thu 12 May 2005, 18:20, Reply)

Connaught Ritz Cinema, Worthing
Just last Saturday, two friends and I went to see Hitchhikers Guide. Before we went into the auditorium I switched my phone off, my mate was buying munchies. In we went and were shown to our seats - lights were still up, had just missed the previews having been in the pub till the last minute. My friend takes out his phone to turn it off, cue old biddy busybody rushing over to tell him "Please don't do that in here, it's disruptive for the others. Put it away or you'll have to leave".
"I'm just turning it off," replies my mate, "Shall I just leave it on then?". Bitch walked off with such a scowl on her face.

BTW, the film was excellent!
(Grobie, Thu 12 May 2005, 17:34, Reply)

Belgian Shopkeepers are The Worst
Needed new shoes as my Dr.Martins boots had begun showing signs of fossilisation.

So I go into an average shoe shop and immediately spot UberBitch with an expression telling me that she, and not the attractive young assistant, was in charge.

Cue some perusal on my part.

I select my first pair of non-Dr.Martins shoes in eight years and proceed to sit down and try them on (and no, no-one had asked me if I wanted their help - but that's par for the course in the land of Chocolate, Beer and .... erm.... well not much else).

Anyway, I'm both amazed and amused to find that my clown-feet are actually not giving me grief in said shoes and so I'm about to take them off to and stick back on my Docs. in order to pay for these new-found boats at the cash desk. Suddenly UberBitch, using her hormonally-supercharged sense of FuckYou stomps up and demands to know my shoe size.

Now, continental sizes are not my forté, so I proceed to tell her in near-perfect Allo-Allo French "Zees wans arh joost parfet pour moi. Zank yoo enyweh".

No, fucking way, mate! - let a customer decide what they want all by themselves? Are you meeehhhdddd??? - Never, I tell you - NEVER!!!

I explain that I'm in a hurry and could she please just ring these little fromage-moulds up for me?

Could she fuck.

In front of the whole fwappin shop (there were shit loads of customers since it was January sales) she HOLDS UP my mutagenic Docs for the customers to see and shouts "Zeez arh size 9 in UK, non?" "You can't wear a Euro size 41 - too small!!! Oh ho ho ho - fer too smoll!!!"

"Vas te faire foutre", I tell her and grab my docs.

At least I managed a fart before I left.




P.S. Sorry for teh girth. Needed a rant.
(Gone Native, Thu 12 May 2005, 17:30, Reply)

Apologies for (lack of) length
If the last line of a post reads "Apologies for length" I count the number of words, and if there are less than a thousand I refuse to read it.
( Beve The Spaniard broke off his horse's head, Thu 12 May 2005, 17:21, Reply)

Yay for bouncers
For some reason noone seems to know you can't wear trainers into pubs that want to be posh. Obviously my friend forgot this and was turned away. Since we were sitting upstairs by a window one of threw their shoes out the window where aforementioned friend put them no and promptly walked in carrying the trainers. Not only that he then changed back in to them right in front of the bouncers who apparently didn't care since he'd entered the pub in "proper" shoes. Weirdos.
(Cuddles It's not rape if they're already dead, Thu 12 May 2005, 17:19, Reply)

I bought a black pudding,
cut it open, scraped out the insides and ate it (this was my pre-vegan days, obviously), then crapped in the skin. I took the pooey sausage-effect back to the butcher and claimed it smelled of shit. He agreed, and gave me my money back! Woo! Definitely got my jobbie's worth there.

Oh, wait, that's not what the question said...
( Bob Todd whee, Thu 12 May 2005, 17:14, Reply)

I did a first aid course at work
Which gave me the right to jobsworth... In the old days if someone had a hangover I'd bung over a spare nurofen, but these days? Oh no, not any more!

Now that I'm certified I am obliged to refuse to offer any medication of any kind to anybody, for any reason... So I just sit there and say "No, I can't give you that, you might die and the company would be held responsible" and watch them suffer. Muahahahaha!
( dr_fonz, Thu 12 May 2005, 16:53, Reply)

Train Conductors
There's one train conductor on the Cardiff Central - Rhumney line, who is a propper jobsworth.

For a start - Where as most other Arriva Trains Wales staff couldn't give a damn about their appearence, this guy insists on wearing the full gear, compleate with peaked cap, and a little bagde with "Guard" written on it (Just in case the ticket machine in his hand didn't give it away)

The tannoy - On every other train journey, the tannoy is compleatly unused, except at Aber stop, to warn everyone about the bloody massive gap. However, we all know when this conductor's on the train, 'cause in addition to announcing each stop, and which stops we have left, he also gives detailed instructions on how to open the door! (Keep in mind, this is rush-hour, so 99% of the people on there use that train every day!) Also, if the train's late, he enjoys saying things like "This train is now FOUR minutes late. Use all the doors on the carrage, not just the closest one!"

Disapointingly, I've only found one was to get my own back. During rush hour trips, he likes to print off about 50 tickets to Cardiff, then sells them, instead of waiting to print them individually. So, when he wanders up the isle and asks me "Return to Cardiff is it?" Is say "Yes please, here's my credit card." Cue a dirty look, as he has to stand there actually printing off a ticket! (off all things), before waiting for my credit card to process the £3.10 transaction.

Petty, but sweet =)
( owain2002, Thu 12 May 2005, 16:47, Reply)

Fopp Security Guard
Went into my local FOPP music store at lunchtime one day from work, after nipping to the nearby sandwich shop for a couple of cheese & ham numbers.

Got to FOPP and there's a sign that reads, 'No food or drink to be consumed on these premises'. So what eh? My sannies are in a bag that you couldn't see through.

I took two steps in the door and the security guard (for the sake or argument we'll call him 'Arse') steps up to me and asks, 'Is that food you have in your bag sir?'

Me, 'Yes, it's my lunch, why?'
Arse, 'Sorry, I can't let you in with that.'

I looked at him for a few seconds just to make sure he wasn't going to laugh. But he didn't, so I did, turned around, walked across the road to HMV, bought a cd & wrote a letter of complaint.

Two days later, I received a reply from the manageress of the store saying that he wouldn't work there again (they hire from an agency) and enclosed a £20 voucher for her store.

Back of the net!
(Wile E. Coyote, Thu 12 May 2005, 16:42, Reply)

No im sorry it has to be Tesco Shopworkers
As a uni student i am blessed with a Job at my local Tesco. As a till operator / customer service assistant I am allowed to be the most petty minded person in the world.

A woman, who is obviously just scrapeing by on the money she has, and trying to feed her family. she was 5p short for a her shopping. I told her she could take items off, but she didn't want too, so i made her go home for 5p before she could take the shopping home (company policy) surprisingly no one in the q offered 5p - so im not the only tight arse.

Someone asks you a question if you know the answer or not - send them to customer services.

If someone complains about you - state they threatened to hit you, or were shouting abuse at you.
Don't like the look of someone? Tell security you think you saw them hiding stuff under their clothes.

The worst thing though you customers do is the something for nothing. Loads of people have realised if you find the right idiot you can get any coupon you want discounted from your shopping regardless of whether you have brought the item or not . . . Not with me - i had a 20 minute argument with someone trying to save 20p on some uttlerly butterly. The Manager was called and everything... but the bastard never got his 20p - he had to pay the full 68p.
(Untitled1, Thu 12 May 2005, 16:37, Reply)

Jobsworth webpages
I like creating web forms that instist on a valid US State and ZIP code from all customers, including international ones. And when I create a list of countries, I always make sure that United Kingdom is missing, prefering England in its place.

I also make sure that all fields are wiped when a page fails validation and that 50% of the time, I generate a server error after submitting it.

It is just a pity I can't see the users faces and long to work in retail.
(lardaholics anonymous, Thu 12 May 2005, 16:23, Reply)

Fucking Stagecoach Drivers
I was on the bus last week, on my way to fix an old lady's pc (I do it to earn a bit of dosh on top of college. She keeps recommending me to all her coffe morning friends, and I've found if I undercharge they pay me more and recommend me further... *evil laugh*)

Anyways, I was on the bus (South Manchester, UK) coming up to my stop, when we hit a traffic jam (caused by roadworks at a rather busy junction up ahead... aha! jobsworth workmen as well... they should be doing it on the weekend) and as we inched closer to the stop a queue formed behind me, waiting to get off.

We were 10 metres from the stop, and I said "Can you let us off here, mate?"

"No, I can only let you off at actual stops - (get this...) - if you have an accident, I lose my job"

"OK, I will take all responsibility - will you let me off now?"

"No, you'll have to wait."

The fucking twat was on such a power trip that he made us wait until he had lined up the doors exactly with the shelter.

One thousand apologies for the length, master. *bows
( Lord Keeps meaning to procrastinate., Thu 12 May 2005, 16:21, Reply)

Stagecoach too...
I completely agree with Snitter The Rat - Stagecoach drivers are the worst. They must breed them from some central source as up and down the country they are terrible (and even in New Zealand!). I got so pissed off with my regular driver in Devon (amongst other things, i once failed to hold my hand out to flag a bus, and even though he stopped for me, he still shouted down the bus for 5 minutes at me for my wrongdoing), that i wrote to the local paper to complain. For the next few weeks the letters page was full of Stagecoach-slagging-off from other members of the public. I am a hero of the people!
(Slinkachuu, Thu 12 May 2005, 16:20, Reply)

Fucking Jobworths on Good Friday
Last good friday, I was in the moooood for a smattering of Fish and Chips (Well, cod bites actually). Me and my brother walked into a suspiciously empty looking chip shop on the outskirts of sunderland, at around 2 'o' clock.

"Two Lots of Cod Bites please" - Sez I

"I'm not cookin any more fish today", sez the woman behind the counter. "Yer can have Cheese patty, or a jumbo sausage and chips"

"What yer havin then???" she asks frustratingly impolitely

"Fuckall" sez I, and walked out to find "Another Fucking fish shop!"

Maybe I'd had a hard day :)
(themoon, Thu 12 May 2005, 16:16, Reply)

Bitch of a supervisor
When I worked in a shoe shop, the supervisor docked 10 minutes off my wage because I had 'accidently' left early due to my watch being 10 minutes fast. And also one day it was freezing and the man who was in charge shut the one of doors, she was walking past the shop on her day off and phoned us up and told us to open the door because it was company policy that both the doors had to be open. Despite the fact that it was the middle of winter and our heating was broken.
(purplefairy, Thu 12 May 2005, 16:14, Reply)

Grrrrrr
I used to work at a veterinary surgery - and was relied upon for answering the telephone and dealing with Customers over the counter.

If someone had been a pain/rude in the consult with the vet, it was duly noted on their form. When it came to payment time, i would give thm the most 1p's possible.

This once involved me making some twunt wait for 15min, whilst i went to the safe in the back to get £5's worth.

How i laughed/smirked/danced merrily

__________________________________________

Also, when answering the phone, you would invariably get someone who never listened to a word you said and complained because you weren't helping. If they were ever a new customer, i would spend ages filling out the 'new et' section on their account thingy. For nice people this involved "What is it (dog/cat/etc), how old in years and what sex?". For not so nice people, this involved:
What animal do you have?
What breed?
Pedigree?
Colour - be as detailed as possible
Age (down to the day)
What other animals it meets on a regular basis

The list was endless.

---------------------------------------------

Also (again) - if anyone was rude, the vet could charge them extra. This ranged from a couple of pound up to £250 for this rich bitch who called the vet useless after saving her 'little darling's' life.

Ha


(no apologies for length - as we all know you love it really)

Note: Guinea pigs have the largest penis for their body size!
( SocialRobot, Thu 12 May 2005, 16:12, Reply)

Airline Jobsworths
Airlines have strict hiring policies and will only hire jobsworths. Recently I went to the offices of the Guatemalan airline TACA. Happily I found that I was the only customer there. I walked up to the counter and asked my question. The employee responded that she could not assist me because I hadn't stopped at the computer in the waiting area to get a number. I responded with an appropriate question like "why?" so she called over the other employee, her manager. He told me I needed a number before they'd help me. When I went to the computer he walked over to help me, either out of boredom because I was the only customer or because he felt that someone so dimwitted as to ask a question without having a number needed all the help he could get. I got my number! The employee then asked how she could help me. I told her that I couldn't ask because she hadn't called my number. She pointed to a board that showed the number, so I was able to ask. Needless to say, the answer was no, the airline could not issue the sort of ticket I had in mind.
All this procedural exactitude from an airline that once stranded a friend of mine overnight because the pilot, according to the airline, forgot that he was supposed to stop in Guatemala City after taking off from El Salvador and flew straight to LA instead.
(thatguyjoe, Thu 12 May 2005, 15:56, Reply)

One of my best mates..
is the biggest jobsworth ever. He seriously tried to bar us from the pub he worked in, on christmas eve, because one of us leant over the counter and pressed a button on his till. Honestly, he almost had tears in his eyes. The twunt.
( crooosty, Thu 12 May 2005, 15:51, Reply)

oh what a suprise! another jobsworth bouncer!
a few months ago my usual haunt for getting bed wettingly drunk on a sat night closed for a refurb. it opened again a few weeks ago to my relief, so i made a conscious decision to get unconsciously drunk. whilst exploring the refurbed pub in my pished state i came across a new staircase and decided to go down. i took 2 steps and realised i was heading back down into the foody bit of the pub away from all the fanny. a quick turn on my heels sorted this problem out... or so i thought. i was faced with an 'all brawn no brain' stereotypical bouncer/monkey. he informed me that i would have to wait a minute before coming up as they were at 'capacity'!!!!!! i had literally taken 2 steps down the stairs... nobody had gone in... nobody had gone out... and you could blatantly see lots of standing space. he made me wait about 5 minutes... cock.
(wilfy is god, Thu 12 May 2005, 15:41, Reply)

Back in them old days when I taught Sailing
We had this incredibly annoying little turd of a boy called Jackson. He would do bollocks all, or do it wrong, and never listen to what we told him.

Me, being at the tender age of 16, had just recently gotten the job, so I was trying to keep to the rules as much as possible, listening to the senior instructor as if he were speaking gospel.

So, we're doing sailing in formation. All the kids in thier slower club dinghies in formation, all the instructors in faster racing dinghies buzzing about giving help or tips.

Of course, Jackson goes off course and refuses to do anything properly, so I sail off after him, telling him in no uncertain terms what I would do with his testicles and a blunt soup spoon if he shouldn't turn around.

Of course, he doesn't listen and goes into the shallow mud flats that surround the bay. the tide goes out very quickly, and his boat gets stuck in the mud, about 500m out from the pontoon. Realising he was stuck, he starts screaming and crying etc. blaming me for his predicament.

I go and tell the Senior instructor, ask if he can get Jackson out. Unfortunately there is a rule somewhere saying that you cannot operate a motorpowered inflatable within waters less than a foot deep. Tits.

So I tied my boat up on the docks and had to wade across a kilometer of waist deep mud filled with sharp rocks and bits of debris, conviniently placed at scrotal level. Oh joy.

So, childs, never be a jobsworth, or you'll be re-evaluating your life whilst pulling a dinghy wih a fat, annoying, screaming, shithead of a child across a kilometer of waist deep mud whilst your wedding tackle get's caught on sharp rocks.
(DarkLite swallowed my entire undercarriage, Thu 12 May 2005, 15:30, Reply)

Bastard MOT gits...
I own a land rover which I drive perhaps 4 times a year. It spends the rest of that time in my garage.

Went in for it's fairly pointless MOT recently and failed becaused of "Excessively heavy steering"

It's a three tonne fu*king land rover without power steering!!?? The guy refused to accept this and insisted that it's too heavy (I suppose he's used to MOTing Corsas and bloody Fiestas...)

Short of fitting a power steering unit (expensive) all I can do is try another MOT centre!
( Beastie is doing science with his arse, Thu 12 May 2005, 15:30, Reply)

Bouncer trouble...
Far too many to mention... But!

Had trouble with a bouncer in my old regular haunt... He was new and although I had been going to said club for ages, he decided to be a complete twunt and refuse entry.

After showing him my passport - i got in...

Later in the night i was very pissed and my mate decided it would be a good idea to dance like we've never danced before... Like complete twunts we were alone on the dancefloor... giving it the monkey etc...

So, here we are dancing away like arses and who does my mate accidently smack in the face with his elbow???
THE BOUNCER!

So the bouncer goes apeshit and hits my mate (and it was a proper slug too!), my mate calmly looks back at the bouncer - smiling. It hurt him like hell but he didn't let the boucner see that.

Anyhoo... Lots of bouncers grab hold of me and my mate and proceed to sling us through the doors and the arsehole who ID'd me tries to throw me down the stairs...
Instead i 'leap' about four feet down and somehow manage to land without falling. The bouncer comes running at me and I swing my fist in a LANKY CRICKET BOWLER STYLEE (overhead - I am quite tall)... Somehow my punch manages to hit the bouncer right on the top of his thick skull and he falls to his knees... Without pausing I legged it past the remaining two bouncers on the doors into the cold outside.

Anyway, A week later or so... I find out that I had knocked the bouncer out cold and i was considered a small hero due to the fact that the Bouncer was an apparent psycho and a wife beater... He also lost his job as he got caught punching my mate on camera...

That'll teach the baldie bastards!
I win hahahahaha

Sorry for length.

*I have to point out that I am not a chav. I am in fact a pacifist (who had drunk too many!)
(Kayozz, Thu 12 May 2005, 15:29, Reply)

Back in the day...
When I was at university, there were these militant security guards who stopped anyone they didn't like from coming in the building. They also patrolled around the computer rooms making sure people weren't playing games. This was back when MUDs (online text adventures) were popular. We usually managed to convince them that we were writing a story or something, except of course one time when a mate stood up and loudly called me a bastard for getting him killed...

We were of course kicked out, but as I was walking past the nazi security guard I got to say to my friend, "You know, I was going to be a security guard... but then they found out that my parents were married."

The guy just scowled...
( Beastie is doing science with his arse, Thu 12 May 2005, 15:14, Reply)

I am teh Law!
I'm the Quality and Safety manager where I work. It's my job to say "Oi! No! Stop that!" whenever anyone is in danger of having fun.

I say things like "Under EC Directive 76/769/EEC we are prohibited from using red wires" and my colleagues say "Feck off, no bugger's telling me what colour wire to use", so I say "I shall have to report this to the authorities, and it won't be me they put in jail..."

The POWER!!!
( no cake for the impuritay Patrick Stewart hasn't aged since, Thu 12 May 2005, 15:12, Reply)

Me, as Barman, c. 1997
Being the nearest rock pub to the local college (which had a large Art dept.) we used to get 10-15 sixteen and seventeen yr old goths come in every weekday afternoon. I instantly hated them, but the owner put up with them because they drank their own bodyweights in our foul coffee, never asked for alcohol and ploughed all their bus money into the pool table and jukebox. After telling them for the thousandth time that gobbing in the ashtrays and having crisp fights is not really acceptable, the gothest, most miserable and most heavily made-up of the bunch comes to the bar and asks for a Pernod and Black. I ID him, and he leaves, looking even more sullen and muttering unpleasantries about me being `worse than Hitler`. The next day they all come back in and he asks for the same thing, I ID him and he pulls out his birth certificate. I look at him, look at the BC, then back at him before loudly asking "Your name is Clifford?!?" before breaking with fits of laughter.

Everty time he came in for the next 6 months all the big hairyarse bikers at the bar would break out into a chorus of `Living Doll` and I would roar with laughter.

They kept gobbing in the ashtrays though. Twunts.
(FiftyFour, Thu 12 May 2005, 15:05, Reply)