Thinly-disguised entrances to Hell where bad things happen. Tell us your dancefloor disasters.
(, Wed 8 Apr 2009, 12:35)
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we were drinking blackcurrant hooch and I was out with some mates from work. One of these workmates was called Mike. I was bevvied out of my face, and had bashed a glass onto the top of my bottle so that the hooch fizzed all over the place.
Mike says to me "I want some of that on my £200 white t-shirt". I oblige by chucking a fair amount over him. He says "wtf did you do that for?" What he had actually said was: "I Don't want that on my £200 white t-shirt". I think I misheard him.
(, Thu 9 Apr 2009, 13:26, 10 replies)
that'd almost be enough to warrant pouring stuff on him. That he made a point of telling you the price makes the "almost" redundant.
(, Thu 9 Apr 2009, 13:45, closed)
but that's two garments, right?
EDIT: please dont pour stuff on it.
(, Thu 9 Apr 2009, 13:45, closed)
I don't really count suits for some reason, though.
I spent *mumblemumble* hundred quid on one over christmas. On the second day I wore it, the cat decided that it'd make a nice place to plant his claws.
Not happy.
(, Thu 9 Apr 2009, 14:45, closed)
Write up your dancing story! Please please please.
(, Thu 9 Apr 2009, 13:50, closed)
that I will never, ever, get bored of the bottle bash trick. It literally reduces me to tears of laughter when I do it to someone or get it done to me.
(, Thu 9 Apr 2009, 18:44, closed)
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