Screwing up at workSomeone on the security team signed off that a fake bomb had been recovered at Old Trafford when it hadn't. Cue one controlled explosion and a postponed soccer game. Tell us your tales of workplace screw ups and the consequences of your mistakes.
(, Tue 17 May 2016, 8:59)
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Frank the Funkey MonkeyMany many years and incarnations ago, when I first arrived on your world through the omnivoox, I had a series of jobs, some of which you have read about on here, my luvvlie sweetiesz.
One of these jobs was as Production Manager at a toy factory.
No – worry not – this is not a tale of Nestenes and Autons (though I have plenty of stories to tell about those plastic-loving motherfuckers).
The factory in question produced a range of dolls, toys and figurines that were highly popular at the time. You might remember Tudge the Teddy Bear and his TV adverts: ‘Nudge the teddy! Fudge the teddy! Hudge the teddy! TUDGE THE TEDDY BEAR!’ Or perhaps Cocoa Bon Bibble (‘She Love To Dribble!’) who was a negroid baby doll that was our biggest seller. Or maybe our figurine of Baron Harkonnen from the Dune novels – that really hovered! (Batteries not included). Or perhaps our Frendley Robot Crew, who got us into deep shit, because several children died after swallowing their detachable fists. And who can forget Angel Parayde, our signature gorgeous dolly, so glamorous, so trendy, with her dead staring eyes, hidden lethal spike, and flammable miniskirt? (I bet you lot wish I wore one of those!!!)
But it is none of these of which I wish to speak. Oh no. I wish to discuss...
Frank the Funkey Monkey.
Frank the Funkey Monkey was our new product line, a monkey dressed in hip-hop clothes whose limbs would jerk spasmodically in a frankly (see what I did there?) pathetic imitation of breakdancing when you clapped your hands within reception distance of the sensor embedded within its (highly flammable, naturally) innards.
In addition to this, Frank the Funkey Monkey would, when a button was pressed on his hip-hop tunic, utter at random one of the following phrases:
‘Hee hee! I’m a Happy Monkey! I just wanna have fun!’
‘Nyum nyum! I’m a Hungry Monkey! What’s for tea?’
‘Yaaawn! I’m a Sleepy Monkey! Time for bed!’
‘Ooh ooh! I’m a Funky Monkey! I just wanna dance!’
These lines were recorded by an actor who, unbeknownst to me, had been sacked from Coronation Street for alcoholism, drug abuse, sexual harassment, petty pilfering and loitering with intent to urinate on set. A bitter, twisted, spiteful individual, brimming with anger and desperate for revenge on the cruel, heartless world. (He later ‘bounced back’ and is now famous his major role in an acclaimed British TV drama, better not say which one!). Anyway, at the time of my story, this actor was a bitter, twisted, spiteful individual, brimming with anger and desperate for revenge on the cruel, heartless world. Oh, I’ve already said that – better delete it. Or perhaps not – it will make the story longer – and I know you all LOVE my loooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooong stories, don’t you, my twinkley liddle sweetiesze?!?! Ha ha!
Anyway.... This actor, who I’d best not LINE OF DUTY name, was contracted to record the lines for Frank the Funkey Monkey, which he duly did, in one take. He seemed professional and capable if a little surly, he didn’t look out of his head on crack and vodka. But then these people always are good at hiding their addictions, aren’t they? For all we know he’s back on the shit now. Unbeknownst to me, however, he had already recorded a tape (yes, it was that long ago) of phrases, which he surreptitiously substituted for the real tape before he left the office.
Luckily, I managed to spot the substitution and disaster was averted.
I wish!!!
I didn’t spot the substitution, and so Frank the Funkey Monkey came off the production line equipped with the following phrases:
‘RAAAGH! I’m an Angry Monkey! I hate you, you little shit! Mummy and Daddy hate you too! Die! Die! Die!’
‘Nyum nyum! I’m a Hungry Monkey! Don’t go to sleep tonight or I will EAT YOUUUUUUU!’
‘Yaaaawn! I’m a Sleepy Monkey! Come to bed with me, you little cunt, so I can finger your sweet little ass!’
‘Uuurgh Uuurgh! I’m a Spunky Monkey! I want to spray my semen all over your little face whilst your Daddy watches and wanks and the producer of Coronation Street is fisted to death, argh, the cunt, the CUNT, aaargh! I’m gonna kill the [muffled thumps] FUCKING, FUCKING, *FUCKING* CUNT! CUNT! AAAAAAAAAARGH!’
Needless to say, we had a few complaints, and I was taken in to the Managing Director’s office, and, as the Production Manager, the product was my responsibility, and I was sacked.
I didn’t mind, it was a shit job anyway. No, it wasn’t Adrian Dunbar, think again.
LAIGH8TERZZZ SWEETIESZE!!!
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(, Sat 21 May 2016, 10:56, 4 replies)
just fucking die alreadyyou wordy nerdy prick
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rachelswipe with a fork, Sun 22 May 2016, 12:18,
closed)
Hello Swipey!Thanks for the response!
A BIG SLUPPEY KISS from me to uou!
MMMMMMMMMMMMWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH
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(, Sun 22 May 2016, 15:19, closed)
Ah, go on. This did make me laugh. For once. Have a click, you cunt.(, Wed 25 May 2016, 15:07, closed)
Ooh thankx sweetie!Have a propper kiss
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(, Thu 26 May 2016, 18:05, closed)
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