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Completely Underwhelmed writes, "I was on a bus the other day when a man got on wearing shorts, over what looked like greeny grey leggings. Then the stench hit me. The 'leggings' were a mass of open wounds, crusted with greenish solidified pus that flaked off in bits as he moved."
What's the worst public transport experience you've ever had?
( , Thu 29 May 2008, 15:13)
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I'm crying as I type this...
It was a bright and warm Sunday afternoon, Bluebirds twittered their merry songs in the sky, and all the insects seemed to hum the tune from Masters of the Universe. I had a jaunty skip in my step, a love song in my heart (most likely something by the Partridge Family, or even David Essex), and a mind over-flowing with happy thoughts as I cheerfully made my way to the local train station.
Arriving at the lovely, warm, friendly, almost magical transportation terminal, I saw that the place was empty, and I had quite some time to wait for the next Iron Horse to carry me to my destination.
'Ah, well,' I thought, absent-mindedly doing the blockbuster hand jive and thinking about kittens on scooters.
I sat on one of those fixed metal benches, and turned the music on my phone up, so that my earphones were gaily blasting out the latest hits from Wham! and Bucks Fizz.
I didn't notice him at first, of course I couldn't have, the world I lived in was full of cartoon bunny rabbits and snails that would wink at you and apologise for getting in your way if you accidentally stepped on them.
He didn't fit in to that world at all. Not one tiny little bit.
The best description I can think of is that he had the appearance of a young hobo, the kind you'd imagine most of the cast of Hollyoaks would've become if they hadn't been to some piss-poor drama school and sucked off the right TV producer at the right time.
He swaggered his way out of the subway that connects the two platforms of the station, muttering to himself and carrying a can of Tennents Super in his hand.
His appearance and demeanour didn't bother me at all, I'd have happily engaged the young man in conversation, if it hadn't been for what happened next. What happened next sucked all of the colour out of my world, like watching The Wizard of Oz in reverse.
Between Young Hobo and I there was a waiting room, and either side of that were clear glass partitions, presumably so people can shelter against the wind and rain.
But young Mr Hobo had decided to give them a different use today, Mr Hobo was a bad, bad man.
Watching from my little metal bench I saw him prop himself against the glass partition, on the opposite side from me, and before I realised what I was looking at, I saw what can only be described as a 13" giganta-cock of doom, pissing liberally, everywhere.
I quickly looked away, traumatised, the image burned into my eyes forever, and the whole world suddenly seemed to become a very sour place.
I don't remember getting home, or how I got there, I can only recall curling up in bed in the foetal position, rocking myself back and forth, trying in vain to get the image out of my mind, all the while my poor, suffering brain kept thinking the same thoughts, over and over again...
'By Christ, it was huge.'
'I feel so sorry for any woman that ever has to go anywhere near that... that thing.'
and
'Gee, I wonder what it'd taste like?'
The memories will haunt me forever.
( , Fri 30 May 2008, 16:09, 71 replies)
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had a busy week out of the office most of the time. Are you still (gulp) working? I notice you've not been posting so much recently.
( , Fri 30 May 2008, 16:14, closed)
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damn those bastard employers of mine, actually making me earn my crust.
Fixed my laptop though, just waiting for the router I ordered and I'll be online here all night, every night!
( , Fri 30 May 2008, 16:19, closed)
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Hiya Enzy, but I've seen bigger.
Hello CHCB! Get that out of your brain, don't you realise it's asposed to go somewhere much nicer?
( , Fri 30 May 2008, 16:21, closed)
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you could put a giganta-cock in my brain.
A friend of mine told me a story about how she pulled this big rasta bloke who, when she removed his pants, turned out to have something of a trouser python. She said her exact words were "you ain't putting that thing anywhere near me!".
She obviously hadn't heard of CHCBs hole stretchers.
( , Fri 30 May 2008, 16:21, closed)
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CHCB has hole stretchers...?
What possible use would they have? -I mean, the patients would just keep falling out.
( , Fri 30 May 2008, 16:23, closed)
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*dances*
Where's Kaol?
I want to power up the crystals and leap into the AlBertKaol Megazord.
( , Fri 30 May 2008, 16:28, closed)
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That one passed me by...
I'm seeing her in a (w)hole new light now.
( , Fri 30 May 2008, 16:28, closed)
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dum dum de dum
flies through the air, blocking holes in damns
dum dum de dum
pissing on windows
dum dum de dum
( , Fri 30 May 2008, 16:28, closed)
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just that they exist in the literature I peruse.
( , Fri 30 May 2008, 16:28, closed)
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the Gigantacock theme song. Now I'm imagining it as a cheap sort of Power Rangers knock off.
@CHCB So you don't own any because you don't need them......?
*sniggers*
( , Fri 30 May 2008, 16:31, closed)
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Pfft! I just imagined a cock in a cape and tight pants, saving the world, one spaff at a time.
@CHCB literature my arse, I can hear you echo-ing from here!*
sorry
( , Fri 30 May 2008, 16:31, closed)
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GIGANTACOCK!!!
dum dum de dum
( , Fri 30 May 2008, 16:32, closed)
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before the hole stretchers go away?
@MM - well, it'd be rude not to try...
( , Fri 30 May 2008, 16:32, closed)
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what is it that goes on at this b3ta meet that Kaol's been going on about? I am both intrigued and slightly scared.
( , Fri 30 May 2008, 16:34, closed)
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I get the impression that we meet, we exchange heart salutations, the men indulge in a spot of manly wrestling a back slapping before adjourning to the smoking room for port and cigars, while the women retire to the sewing room for tea and sherry and cake.
( , Fri 30 May 2008, 16:36, closed)
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tea sherry and cake!
Tio Pepe please, just because I like that it means Uncle Pepe.
( , Fri 30 May 2008, 16:38, closed)
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retiring for vodka and crack may be more appropriate.
( , Fri 30 May 2008, 16:38, closed)
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But I'm not a drug user.
Hint hint.
Nudge nudge.
Wink wink.
Eh..? Eh...?!
( , Fri 30 May 2008, 16:39, closed)
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1 for use of the word penetrate, and 1 because Wagner sounds like wanker.
Where is this Wagner, and will he let me penetrate his ring?
( , Fri 30 May 2008, 16:43, closed)
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you can call me al...
/Peter Gabriels
( , Fri 30 May 2008, 16:45, closed)
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with hopefully a less fanciful answer. I'd like to go, but quite frankly I'm scared. Apparently you shouldn't meet people you met on the internet.
( , Fri 30 May 2008, 16:57, closed)
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we are weirdo and, as demonstrated above, sexual deviants. And we like cake and sex and goats all at once.
But on a serious note, it will be a public place during the day, and the benefit of the whole wearing a flower thing is that you can turn up in the pub, buy a drink, look like your waiting for someone and if you see a crowd of freaks with flowers and kittens on their lapels and you get scared, you can just walk away.
But we're not really that weird, we've all got proper jobs and stuff.
Edit - *takes of belt and gives bert the buckle end*
( , Fri 30 May 2008, 17:01, closed)
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I'm scared too, there's some right proper weirdos on here, but I'm going for the experience. I can always run for the hills if you're all a total bunch of mongtards in real life.
Would you like me to hold your hand?
( , Fri 30 May 2008, 17:01, closed)
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this kind of thing before? It does sound like fun, I'm just worried that the experience will transform me into ubergeek
points for eminem. I need a better name that is not cigarette inspired.
( , Fri 30 May 2008, 17:04, closed)
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Back of MM, he's mine.
sorry, I get defensive around Bert
( , Fri 30 May 2008, 17:05, closed)
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With being an ubergeek?
I imagine the proper thing to do would be:
- Hide flower
- Observe bunch of people with flowers
- If not all mental, unhide flower and approach
- Hide
( , Fri 30 May 2008, 17:06, closed)
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Are you sure that's Bert's hand, it just looks like....
dum dum de dum
dum dum de dum
dum dum de dum
GIGANTACOCK!!!
( , Fri 30 May 2008, 17:07, closed)
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But it's no worse than, say, meeting a friend of a friend, at least you have some impression of what the people on here might be like.
As for being an ubergeek, if anything it's the opposite, because we're actually going out and meeting up, not fwapping over our keyboards. Besides, I think alot of people on here will actually be much more shy in person, myself particularly, I may not even say much at all.
EDIT How dare you MM! That's not gigantacock, the best I can muster is nine and a half inches, and that's on a hot day, with stretching.
( , Fri 30 May 2008, 17:07, closed)
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I only wish Berts hands were as big as Gigantacock.
( , Fri 30 May 2008, 17:08, closed)
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good points, all of them.
I think we can remove the "asses" part of that sentence too.
( , Fri 30 May 2008, 17:08, closed)
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there are a fair few people who are going who have pictures on their profiles, so you can actually work out who is who before approaching.
If you're really worried just bring a friend along too, then there is no chance of someone going "are you here for the QOTW meet up?" and you having to lie if we look weird.
EDIT
*gets upset that he is thought of as an internet sex pest*
( , Fri 30 May 2008, 17:10, closed)
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there will be a group of people holding kittens and staring into their pints.
SOUNDS GREAT!
( , Fri 30 May 2008, 17:10, closed)
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or will you be travelling in should you decide to come along?
( , Fri 30 May 2008, 17:11, closed)
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Internet sex pest is a compliment where you come from.
( , Fri 30 May 2008, 17:11, closed)
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Shame it's all the way down in Englandshire, I'd enjoy watching people hold kittens and look awkward.
( , Fri 30 May 2008, 17:13, closed)
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in Finsbury Park. Since you've all been so nice, I shall come.
dum dum de dum
( , Fri 30 May 2008, 17:14, closed)
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You LOVE us.
Are you from northscotlandderry then?
@MM then I shall bring GIGANTACOCK.
( , Fri 30 May 2008, 17:15, closed)
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as we (former) locals like to call it (that may be a lie).
I used to live on Gloucester Drive just south of the Park down from where the Alexandra used to be before they demolished it.
( , Fri 30 May 2008, 17:17, closed)
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6 or 7 hours is a bit extreme just for a day I feel, seeing as I need to work all through the holidays to earn some money for buying technical gadgetry.
Mmm, gadgetry...
( , Fri 30 May 2008, 17:17, closed)
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Ahm fi' Renfrew originally, but me maw and paw didnae like it.
( , Fri 30 May 2008, 17:19, closed)
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which in itself is just off Upper Tollington Park. You can see my old mini on Google maps.
Which is nice.
@Bert- I think maybe you shouldn't, seeing as we've only just met.
( , Fri 30 May 2008, 17:20, closed)
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Or at least during term time anyway.
The rest of the time, either Dumfries and Galloway, or random places about Scotland to visit folk.
( , Fri 30 May 2008, 17:20, closed)
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but GIGANTACOCK is just the name of one of my guard Gerbils. Besides, I might be bringing Mrs Monkeysex with me, so I'll be behaving all proper like.
@PoD All of them are just names of places to me, I'm a totally plastic jock, I haven't been up there in ten years.
( , Fri 30 May 2008, 17:22, closed)
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Have you told al yet?
( , Fri 30 May 2008, 17:24, closed)
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Glasgow: at the thin bit, pretty much level with Edinburgh. Until a few weeks ago I lived where I was quite likely to get stabbed. Currently, I don't have a flat in Glasgow for next year. Rubbish.
D&G: South of Scotland, on the left. Nothing much exciting happens. Queen of the South are from there, who failed to win the Scottish Cup.
( , Fri 30 May 2008, 17:24, closed)
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I'm just going to pretend she doesn't exist when me and bert finally meet.
*imagines slow motion running towards Bert in a grassy field*
*is very impressed that his ipod decided just then to play "True" by Spandau Ballet*
( , Fri 30 May 2008, 17:25, closed)
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Nah, just kidding, al knows he's my special guy, Mrs Monkeysex will always come second to al, the goats, the used monkeys and cake.
So, fourth really.
Have a nice weekend all!
True by spandau ballet was my wedding song!
( , Fri 30 May 2008, 17:26, closed)
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*is not impressed Spandau Ballet is on your iPod*
I did meet Tony Hadley once though
( , Fri 30 May 2008, 17:28, closed)
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@MM Do you got to the Fullback? That was my favourite pub. Thought the Old Dairy was nice too. Comedy night at the Kings Head over in Crouch End on saturdays is brilliant too. If you haven't been I would recommend it.
( , Fri 30 May 2008, 17:28, closed)
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Mrs Sexmonkey 5th wouldn't it?
Have a good weekend!!
*waves*
*waves some more*
*arm falls off*
( , Fri 30 May 2008, 17:28, closed)
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to really go see any of them these days. And yes the Fullback is lovely, but the Dairy has gone a tad wetherspoons in my eyes.
( , Fri 30 May 2008, 17:29, closed)
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is still better than The Larrick.
I loved shopping in Woodys. I also loved that the filmed Peep Show in there.
EDIT - Bye PoD
( , Fri 30 May 2008, 17:34, closed)
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I still call it Yessim food centre though. Tis funnier.
( , Fri 30 May 2008, 17:37, closed)
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I've met lots of people off the net and I'm a bit apprehensive about this meet as it'll be my first B3ta meet too.
( , Fri 30 May 2008, 19:00, closed)
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“This wine tastes like hobo balls,” I said, loud enough for the entire room to hear. Even as the words left my mouth, I knew that it was a horrible, horrible mistake. It’s not the sort of observation that a civilized person should make, and certainly not while partaking in a posh wine tasting.
If I was smart, I would’ve kept my trap shut after finishing my third bottle. I would have just nodded thoughtfully, crinkling my nose as if carefully pondering the wine’s essence. If I felt compelled to speak, I should have repeated what the other more knowledgeable (and less obviously blasted) people were saying. “Yes, yes, I agree. This wine is very young. It still has too many tannins.” But no, that would’ve been too easy. I just had to bring up hobo balls.
In my defense, the wine did taste a little of scrotum. I may have been exaggerating slightly to suggest that it had a hearty hobo flavor, but there was definitely something testicley about it.
Here are a few other things that, as I soon discovered, it isn’t appropriate to say during a wine tasting:
“This wine tastes so good, I’d drink it through the ass crack of a dead hooker.”
“You know how I figured out that this wine isn’t from France? It hasn’t surrendered to the Nazis.”
“Does all wine contain the Blood of Christ or just certain varietals?”
“You know what’d go well with this wine? A microwave burrito and a fistful of Pop Tarts.”
“I fucking love you, man.”
( , Fri 30 May 2008, 19:14, closed)
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"Where's Kaol?
I want to power up the crystals and leap into the AlBertKaol Megazord."
I was in Brighton.
I'm back now.
Don't drink-drive kids.
( , Sat 31 May 2008, 0:33, closed)
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KIIIIIIIAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIiiiiiiiiiiiii!!!!
( , Sat 31 May 2008, 19:52, closed)
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