The Time I Nearly Killed Someone.
You watch, the QOTW will come up now where this story will be actually relevant.

As we all know by now, the English half of the Family Tights are a pleasant country folk - My Grandfather has been working his farm now for coming on 70 years, and even I will go back to the farm at Harvest time to drive the tractors/combines and generally help out about the place.

This story, however, takes place in the summer of 1998. Remember when summer had sun? Well, this was one of those. The Harvest had been a good one – it had been hot and hard work but we’d finished in good time. As was the custom, we all filed back across the fields to the farmhouse, and started celebrating another year done.

Now, being a farmer, my granddad keeps a gun. Several guns, in fact, all fully licensed and locked away. He also has a clay pigeon trap. After several shandies, it was decided that we’d round off the afternoon with a bit of clay shooting. Off we went up to the end of the garden, each with a gun cocked over our arms. I manned the trap, and let fly with a couple of clays.

BLAM! BLAM!

My granddad polished them off with consummate ease. The next few minutes were filled with the glorious sound of gunfire and laughter, while the clays were dispatched with ease (or, in some cases, difficulty).

Then came my turn. I’ve always been a pretty good shot, so there was a certain amount of swagger as I walked up to the line.

“Pull!” I called, strong and confident.

There was a ‘whoosh’ as the clays left the trap.

BLAM!.... BLAM! and then, two puffs of orange dust.

“Pull!”

What happened next will stay with me forever. As the arm of the trap swung forward, the clays got jammed and instead of flying out forwards, they flew out sideways, to my right. I adjusted my aim, sighted the clays, and squeezed the trigger. Just in time to see my uncle, who was operating the trap, dive to one side like he was in a fucking John Woo film. And, a split second later, the branch of the tree that was behind him being peppered with shot.

It took a few beers to get him to forgive me.
( Devil_In_Tights the *real* DiT!, Wed 9 Jul 2008, 10:04, 38 replies, latest was 16 years ago)

guns don't kill people
chuck norris kills people
( Vipros. clever got me this far, then tricky got me in, Wed 9 Jul 2008, 10:14, Reply)

Chuck Norris jokes suck
I'm not allowed to write a story about the time I nearly killed someone, for legal reasons.
( Cawl, Wed 9 Jul 2008, 10:16, Reply)

One time, Mr T and Chuck Norris...
Encountered each other on a lonesome English path.

Fearing the inevitable battle, the Earth shat itself and created Scotland.
( Devil_In_Tights the *real* DiT!, Wed 9 Jul 2008, 10:21, Reply)

@DiT
Now now!

*wags finger*
( Boss Keloid Got your mother's maiden name tattooed on my arm, Wed 9 Jul 2008, 10:27, Reply)

Nah, DiT, that's not right
Once God had finished making the earth, he was sitting around resting for a bit and St Peter came to see him.

"Morning God", said Peter. "I've just been down seeing that new earth you made last week, and I was particularly impressed with one bit of it".

"Oh, right", replied God. "Which bit was that then?"

"I think it's called Scotland", Peter said, "It's beautiful - all those majestic mountains, fantastic rivers for fishing, lots of landscape for humans to build good driving roads through once they invent the car, pure water for making whisky, and so on. OK, maybe the weather's not that good, but at least there'll never be droughts to cause the crops to fail".

"Yeah, I made a good job of that country," said God.

"I was wondering though", said Peter. "Isn't it a bit unfair to let the Scottish people have all that stuff?"

"I agree", God said, with a smug look. "Wait till you see the fucking neighbours I've given them!"
( K2k6 has a proper job these days, Wed 9 Jul 2008, 10:30, Reply)

^Haha
I'd like to say for the record that I diod not mean Scotland is made of Shit. Some of my best friends are Scottish... :)

EDIT: And I'm Danish, so ner.
( Devil_In_Tights the *real* DiT!, Wed 9 Jul 2008, 10:36, Reply)

@K626
Haha, I'm English and I heartily agree with that sentiment. I'd like to move to Scotland eventually.

Morning everyone! How are we all on this rainy morning?
(The Empress it seems you CAN polish a turd!, Wed 9 Jul 2008, 10:41, Reply)

Morning Bob
it is lovely and sunny in Yorkshire
( Boss Keloid Got your mother's maiden name tattooed on my arm, Wed 9 Jul 2008, 10:46, Reply)

Mornin' Bob!
Well thank you, although I don't like wearing a jumper in July! :(

If I didn't live in London, I think I'd like Edinburgh. All the perks of a city, just not as... angry.
( Devil_In_Tights the *real* DiT!, Wed 9 Jul 2008, 10:52, Reply)

Yes, I know
My tongue is firmly in my cheek. I'm no Scottish nationalist.

You're very welcome to come and stay here, Bob. However, the K2k6 Caledonian Immigration policy is that for every person who moves here, we throw out two neds. In that way, we prevent overpopulation and have only nice people living here!

If only we could get that one through the European Court of Human Rights...
( K2k6 has a proper job these days, Wed 9 Jul 2008, 10:53, Reply)

Morning Bob
it's not raining here. In fact, the sun's starting to come out and it's getting quite warm.

Who says the north east gets all the shit weather?
( Davros' Granddad a voice of calm reason in a world of spastics., Wed 9 Jul 2008, 10:55, Reply)

Yes
Def Edinburgh. Or Glasgow (my bro lives there, it's ace, although not as architecturally pretty). Or some of the nice little villages around the Kenmore/Loch Tay area.

K626, that is a policy I'd subscribe to. Oh yes. Perhaps it could work with the UK as a whole: for every immigrant that moves here, bringing their skills and willingness to work (when a huge amount of British people are content to sit on their fat arses all day claiming benefits), we drown 2 chavs. Or make them emigrate to Zimbabwe.

DG: I know. When I was up in Bamburgh a couple of weeks ago, it was beauuuuutiful. Dusky pink sunsets, warm breezes, the scent of wild grass (and horseshit, but I like the smell of horseshit, so that's ok). It was another hammer in the coffin of London.
(The Empress it seems you CAN polish a turd!, Wed 9 Jul 2008, 11:09, Reply)

Bamburgh is pretty
A tiny little village with a huge fucking castle on a rock overlooking it.
( Davros' Granddad a voice of calm reason in a world of spastics., Wed 9 Jul 2008, 11:36, Reply)

All I know of Bamburgh
is that it has a service station by the side of the A1, which is a welcome stop off point for weary musicians making their way back home after a gig in the NE of England.

They also used to have an amazing stash of pr0n mags. Or so I'm told.
( K2k6 has a proper job these days, Wed 9 Jul 2008, 11:54, Reply)

It also has a lovely old abandoned quarry
Next to the caravan site we were on (1 mile inland). You can climb to the top and get the most amazing views of the castle and the Farn islands. Also a lovely quiet spot for a bit of al-fresco *ahem* 'romance'...
(The Empress it seems you CAN polish a turd!, Wed 9 Jul 2008, 11:56, Reply)

You are Dick Cheney
aicmfp.
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Wed 9 Jul 2008, 13:30, Reply)

^Arf!
Feeling better today, matey?
( Devil_In_Tights the *real* DiT!, Wed 9 Jul 2008, 13:32, Reply)

Yes, thanks.
I really don't know why I was in such a foul mood yesterday- nothing happened to piss me off, I just found myself being increasingly irritable. I don't like it when that happens. So I did the best thing I could think of for that- I kept very quiet, then built a fire in the back yard fireplace and sat out there with a secession of beers until I felt human again.

So this morning I feel a little muzzy and have the death farts, but other than that I feel a lot better...
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Wed 9 Jul 2008, 13:37, Reply)

Sign of old age?
:p
( Cawl, Wed 9 Jul 2008, 13:40, Reply)

I've already got enough of those, thanks.
But thankfully not as many as my ex-wife has!

Thus far my age symptoms seem to be limited to gaining some weight, getting a few grey hairs in the beard, getting some crow's feet and getting far sighted. But other than that, I'm about the same as I was twenty years ago.

Guess I can't bitch but so much...
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Wed 9 Jul 2008, 13:46, Reply)

If it helps,
I've got a few gray hairs...
( Cawl, Wed 9 Jul 2008, 13:58, Reply)

Me too
nowt wrong with grey hairs. distinguished, you know
( Davros' Granddad a voice of calm reason in a world of spastics., Wed 9 Jul 2008, 14:00, Reply)

I'm 22...
You're not :P
( Cawl, Wed 9 Jul 2008, 14:02, Reply)

I wish I had just a few grey hairs
but the red bits in my hair are going grey fast.

*shrugs*

That's why hair-dye was invented, I suppose. Might not care so much once I'm over 40.

edit: DiT - I expected better from you, young man. Anti Scottish remarks? We'll see how brave you are next spring, eh?

I vote for a slight change to the above immigration policy - for every one immigrant of good standing, we drown two chavs, and sterilise three more. Sound good?
(TheWeeWitch hasn't been here much recently .., Wed 9 Jul 2008, 14:03, Reply)

The funny thing is
that none of my grey is on top of my head- it's all confined to my beard. I also still have all of my hair. Were I to shave off my beard and mustache I could get away with claiming to be ten years younger than I really am, easily.

It pisses off the Lunatic Artist to no end when I get asked for ID when I get beer with dinner and she doesn't.
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Wed 9 Jul 2008, 14:05, Reply)

@ Kaol
Yeah, but I feel 22 sometimes.
( Davros' Granddad a voice of calm reason in a world of spastics., Wed 9 Jul 2008, 14:06, Reply)

I feel 22
Every Wednesday at 4:00pm...
( Cawl, Wed 9 Jul 2008, 14:08, Reply)

I'm proud to report
that I have no grey/gray hairs whatsoever. They're all blond. Numerically however, they are not as abundant as they once were.

And if I don't shave for a few days, the growth that appears is all manner of colours*. It's quite odd.

*within the normal range of natural hair colours, obviously.


@TWW - excellent idea. Would you like to be in charge of the sterilisations?

*passes garden shears*
( K2k6 has a proper job these days, Wed 9 Jul 2008, 14:09, Reply)

Going grey is the least of my worries, it's the rapid balding that's pissing me off.
Disturbingly, I did find a white hair on my nutsack though.
(wellgroomedwookiee is a filthy-minded hobgoblin, Wed 9 Jul 2008, 14:13, Reply)

But it *wasn't* an anti-scottish remark!
The only thing that was awesome enough to keep Chuck Norris and Mr T apart was Scotland. The Earth created Scotland to defend itself!

I love Scotland! I'm even getting hitched in a Kilt!
( Devil_In_Tights the *real* DiT!, Wed 9 Jul 2008, 14:24, Reply)

That reminds me,
apparently Chuck Norris is against cloning, because scientists have theorised that the titanic forces unleashed should a Chuck Norris roundhouse kick meet another Chuck Norris roundhouse kick travelling in the opposite direction would surely obliterate the universe.
(wellgroomedwookiee is a filthy-minded hobgoblin, Wed 9 Jul 2008, 14:28, Reply)

*accepts garden shears from K2k6*

*opens and closes the blades menacingly*

*laughs like a maniac*

DiT, well okay then, I'll let you off. I mean, the Romans built a bloody great wall (well two actually) rather than fight with our ancestors! Wear the kilt by all means, but for god's sake make sure its the right length. The tartan means fuck all, that's just a pattern.
(TheWeeWitch hasn't been here much recently .., Wed 9 Jul 2008, 14:39, Reply)

Okey dokey!
I'm being measured this weekend, and there is a special Danish tartan that I'm going to wear.

13 months to go til the wedding. I'm already scared!
( Devil_In_Tights the *real* DiT!, Wed 9 Jul 2008, 14:43, Reply)

WGW reminds me
I heard Bruce Lee could swallow bottle tops, then fire them out of his ass like Ninja throwing stars, using Shaolin sphincter control. That's what I heard.
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Wed 9 Jul 2008, 14:43, Reply)

Kilt length:
You need to be measured from your natural waistline (kilts shouldn't sit on the hips) to about an inch or so from the top of the knee. Ideally, when kneeling down, the kilt shouldn't quite reach the floor (despite rumours to the contrary).

*switches off pernicketty mode*

edit: TRL, I would so love that to be true ....
(TheWeeWitch hasn't been here much recently .., Wed 9 Jul 2008, 14:45, Reply)

Also
I heard tell that during the making of the final scene of Enter The Dragon, with the room full of mirrors, they problems shooting that scene, because Bruce's reflection wasn't visible in the mirrors. The reason? Even his REFLECTION was too scared to meet his steely Shaolin gaze.

THE TRUTH: there were no mirrors, he just ran at 72frames per second pausing at each spot for one frame.

There is also missing footage from Bruce's famed kung fu demonstration at Long Beach, where he compresses a Chevy with his bare hands to the size of a stock cube.

Also, I heard his penis had its own penis. Or so I heard
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Wed 9 Jul 2008, 14:45, Reply)

COME LIVE WITH ME
(see profile)

:P
( whenanimalsattackhumans clad in global hypercolour, Wed 9 Jul 2008, 17:09, Reply)