Off TopicAre you a QOTWer? Do you want to start a thread that isn't a direct answer to the current QOTW? Then this place, gentle poster, is your friend.
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rob, Sun 1 Apr 2001, 1:00)
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QOTDPooflakes latest effort reminded me of an OT idea I had the other day to stretch the bounds of creativity, innovation and spang-a-bility to the max.
The challenge is to think of a QOTW but don't tell us what it is. Then, construct a story culminating in a convoluted pun which answers the question. We then have to guess what your QOTW is by un-mangling the punchline.
I'll give it a go later when I can find the time, but feel free to start without me.
(, Wed 15 Oct 2008, 10:16, 15 replies, latest was 16 years ago)
Right, here goesBack in the late 1980s, I was working for a large teaching hospital in Yorkshire with a world renowned neurological department. I'm no medic but had built up a useful working knowledge of the field through my job in the press office, I also still had fluent French at this time and rusty, though basic German.
Thus it was that I was sent to a week long conference in Strasbourg of the European Neurological Society as one of the delegation from our unit. And very educational it was too, in more ways than two. On the second night, I was down in the hotel bar chatting with some other delegates, acting as translator between a very attractive French neuro-surgeon from Brest called Nicole, a guy called Sandy that I'd met the previous day from Glasgow and Heinrich Ko - whose father was Korean and whose mother was East German. He was a fascinating guy, very bright but really short - I should think 5' 1" at most. As well as being a researcher at the university of Potsdam and one of the key men in E.N.S., he was also a 4th dan Shotokan Karate black belt and runner-up in the European championships the previous year.
The drink was flowing and I was doing my best to follow all the conversations as well as attempting to flirt with the lovely Nicole, but I could tell that both Sandy and Heirich were keen on her too. I had to go to the toilet and when I got back to the table, Sandy (who'd had a few more than the rest of us) was leaning over Nicole virtually dribbling down her top. I could see that Heirich wasn't too happy about this but his German protestations were not registering on the young Glaswegian. Then he prodded Sandy in the back and made his feelings clear.
"He says you should stop that and go to bed," I translated to Sandy.
"Tell him he's a short-arsed little Korean kraut and to mind his own business, will you?" he slurred as he slowly stood up and wobbled to his full 6' 2", red-headed, broad-shouldered maximum height.
At this point, Heinrich picked him up, carried him to the door, out of the hotel and taught him some manners. I guess Sandy hadn't reckoned on meeting such a wee 'ard Est-Ko inside ENS.
I thang you!
(, Wed 15 Oct 2008, 10:49, Reply)
@ CheWierdest coincidences?
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Boss Keloid Got your mother's maiden name tattooed on my arm, Wed 15 Oct 2008, 10:52,
Reply)
Ok then...how about this...?I think this is a bit obvious...so for shits and giggles I will leave out the punchline… for you to work out...
Also, I had to go quite far back to find one I hadn’t already done a pun for! (clue)
And, it’s also kind of related on subject matter to the last
Here goes - set your faces to 'Spang':
Maybe it's not his fault that Richard Branson is such an utter cock-head...
After another failed Ballooning attempt (This time to fly to Jupiter and back, and they made it as far as Norwich), Richard ‘Beardy Weirdy’ Branson and his Colleague Per Lindstrom decided to go to the pub and discuss why they insist on continuing pathetic publicity stunts and pointless acts of throwing flipping great wadges of cash at pointless exercises that always go tits up.
“I’ve got a theory” explained Per. “I think there is something biologically borked with us both”
“What do you mean?” Queried the richer-than-God-but-totally-useless spunk trumpet.
“Well, I’ve noticed it in my children” continued Per. “I have two kids, one of each. My daughter Rosemary keeps her feet firmly on the ground and hates being up in the air, But Alfonse, my son, is constantly trying to fly…to get higher and higher in the sky. I’ve done some research and discovered differences deep in their molecular structure”
“Well, fuck my arse with a B&Q Wheelbarrow” Quothe Branson “So you think that you and I have the same genetic make-up as your boy...and that’s why we’re constantly twunting about in hot air ballons?”
“That is EXACTLY what I fucking well think!” Replied Per. “And what’s more, some scientist friends of mine have done some tests on Rosemary and have isolated the unique code. We’ve called it the ‘Per’s-daughter-Rose ‘Low’ Gene. Of course, my lad’s condition is the exact polar opposite…I just don’t know what to call it…”
Branson piped up:”What about the…”
…
Over to you…
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Pooflake braces for an onslaught..., Wed 15 Oct 2008, 11:26,
Reply)
@ PoofPer's-son-Al 'High'-Gene!
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Boss Keloid Got your mother's maiden name tattooed on my arm, Wed 15 Oct 2008, 11:30,
Reply)
Short oneI saw two blokes in the office fighting over a piece of paper.
They both had an end each and were tugging away at it.
Eventually it ripped in half.
It was a..........
(, Wed 15 Oct 2008, 11:30, Reply)
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