Petty Officials
Bob de Bilde says: A traffic warden threatened to call the police and have me arrested because "It's illegal to take photos in the street. You might be a paedophile". I was taking a picture of a funny street sign, over which I had no plans to masturbate. Tell us about petty officials talking bollocks.
( , Thu 27 Mar 2014, 15:05)
Bob de Bilde says: A traffic warden threatened to call the police and have me arrested because "It's illegal to take photos in the street. You might be a paedophile". I was taking a picture of a funny street sign, over which I had no plans to masturbate. Tell us about petty officials talking bollocks.
( , Thu 27 Mar 2014, 15:05)
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Is there something about gatekeepers making them the most stringent sticklers for rules?
It had seemed like a good idea at the time - a stag do on a narrow boat going up the River Lea over a long Easter weekend. A gloriously lazy 3 day pub crawl with accommodation that we could just fall into at night moored handily by each pub. Obviously, not everything went to plan. For starters, when we met up at Limehouse Basin the groom had arrived with his Jack Russell because he’d been relying on his wife-to-be to look after it whilst he was away, only to discover that her friends had arranged her hen do that same weekend in Paris via Eurostar. So the dog had to be smuggled on board since the boat rental company had a strict no pets rule. Next, the best man insisted on making the groom (who is Scottish) wear a “haggis necklace” for the weekend. Yes, a string of haggises tied around his neck. Also, none of us bunch of middle-class, middle-aged, flabby-middled blokes had driven a boat before, so every time we tried to move, stop or tie the thing up there was chaos.
Somehow we managed to get going and once we were out of sight of Limehouse Basin the dog was let out to run around the deck, barking at everything in sight and jumping up at the groom trying to get at the fucking haggises around his neck.
We arrived at the first obstacle - a lock. Fucking locks, how do they work? Oh fantastic, there is some sort of official operating it! The groom somehow steers the boat through the open lock gates, the official starts shouting at us about ropes and dogs and putting the engine in neutral and closing the gates and suddenly there is a splash and we realise the dog has fallen (been kicked?) into the water.
Fortunately the best man remained calm and managed to fish the bloody thing out before it got crushed between the boat and the sides of the lock using the haggis necklace. And that is my story of a Party Offal Shawl Trawling Bow Locks.
( , Wed 2 Apr 2014, 10:50, 13 replies)
It had seemed like a good idea at the time - a stag do on a narrow boat going up the River Lea over a long Easter weekend. A gloriously lazy 3 day pub crawl with accommodation that we could just fall into at night moored handily by each pub. Obviously, not everything went to plan. For starters, when we met up at Limehouse Basin the groom had arrived with his Jack Russell because he’d been relying on his wife-to-be to look after it whilst he was away, only to discover that her friends had arranged her hen do that same weekend in Paris via Eurostar. So the dog had to be smuggled on board since the boat rental company had a strict no pets rule. Next, the best man insisted on making the groom (who is Scottish) wear a “haggis necklace” for the weekend. Yes, a string of haggises tied around his neck. Also, none of us bunch of middle-class, middle-aged, flabby-middled blokes had driven a boat before, so every time we tried to move, stop or tie the thing up there was chaos.
Somehow we managed to get going and once we were out of sight of Limehouse Basin the dog was let out to run around the deck, barking at everything in sight and jumping up at the groom trying to get at the fucking haggises around his neck.
We arrived at the first obstacle - a lock. Fucking locks, how do they work? Oh fantastic, there is some sort of official operating it! The groom somehow steers the boat through the open lock gates, the official starts shouting at us about ropes and dogs and putting the engine in neutral and closing the gates and suddenly there is a splash and we realise the dog has fallen (been kicked?) into the water.
Fortunately the best man remained calm and managed to fish the bloody thing out before it got crushed between the boat and the sides of the lock using the haggis necklace. And that is my story of a Party Offal Shawl Trawling Bow Locks.
( , Wed 2 Apr 2014, 10:50, 13 replies)
I realise now I committed a terrible
mixing of tenses in my post. As for the rest of it, you don't deserve any better and you know it.
( , Wed 2 Apr 2014, 11:00, closed)
mixing of tenses in my post. As for the rest of it, you don't deserve any better and you know it.
( , Wed 2 Apr 2014, 11:00, closed)
I got all the way to the end, I fucking hate it when that happens
( , Wed 2 Apr 2014, 11:01, closed)
( , Wed 2 Apr 2014, 11:01, closed)
i wanted this to be true
it feels like finding out about santa all over again :(
( , Wed 2 Apr 2014, 11:16, closed)
it feels like finding out about santa all over again :(
( , Wed 2 Apr 2014, 11:16, closed)
Sorry you've been so disappointed
twice in such quick succession :(
( , Wed 2 Apr 2014, 11:30, closed)
twice in such quick succession :(
( , Wed 2 Apr 2014, 11:30, closed)
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