Well, that taught 'em
Sammi Evil Nice writes "I shared with two students, and it was always the same; whenever it was near to paytime, my milk *and only this* would disappear.
One of them, John, was a lovely bloke but allergic to nuts. John makes tea. Soon after, John starts swelling up.
ME: Runs, administers epi-pen. "You're going into anaphalactic shock."
HIM: "How do you know?"
ME: "I put almond oil in my milk."
What have you done to teach somebody a lesson?
( , Thu 26 Apr 2007, 14:54)
Sammi Evil Nice writes "I shared with two students, and it was always the same; whenever it was near to paytime, my milk *and only this* would disappear.
One of them, John, was a lovely bloke but allergic to nuts. John makes tea. Soon after, John starts swelling up.
ME: Runs, administers epi-pen. "You're going into anaphalactic shock."
HIM: "How do you know?"
ME: "I put almond oil in my milk."
What have you done to teach somebody a lesson?
( , Thu 26 Apr 2007, 14:54)
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Yay! Repost 1
One Nissan Micra less...
Long story cut short....
Fact: only arseholes/infirm/aged drive Nissan Micras. This has little bearing on anything but I feel better telling you.
A little man decides to pull out of a junction and turn right without noticing I'm travelling on the road he's just turned into. Result: weighed anchor narrowly missing him.
Generally I'm cool with idiots however, he makes that 'cheery wave after looking in his rear view like his just been let out of a junction through me being courteous and just wanting to test my brakes'. Gets to the queue at the light sand I'm at his door giving him my considered opinion.
He decides to lock his door and make rude gestures (brave and stupid - always a fun combo) so I grab his door handle which comes off in my hand. I then throw the broken handle at the window somewhat de-stressed and amused that this pathetic piece of Jap Crap has come apart with minimal effort.
Fast forward three weeks and there's a phone call from PC Plod. The half wit has taken my reg and called the Rozzers. Cue suitably apologetic conversation with an 'old school' copper who suggests I make amends by posting this numb nuts a cheque for the door handle and then he won't have to pay me a visit and fill in forms. I agree and the filth gives me his address!!!! (Data Protection - whats that?)
I dutifully sent off a cheque to the supplied address, waited 'til it cleared thus verifying the pillocks whereabouts and then in the still of the night paid his Micra a visit with iron filings. For those not of a destructive persuasion - sprinkling iron filings onto paintwork in a pattern (or words of your choice) overnight sees them a) become rusty with the condensation / dew / wet and b) eat into the paint / attach itself to the bodywork so that the only thing that can be done is the panel needs to be sanded flat and repainted. Not something an insurance firm will be doing on a ten year old car.....write off.
So - until the pay out (approx three weeks) and the long last drive to the knackers yard this one handled blue pile of sh*te drove around with 'wanker' in rust on the bonnet and sex pest on the roof.
Do I win a prize?
(Tue 17th Oct 2006, 15:28, More)
( , Fri 27 Apr 2007, 10:48, Reply)
One Nissan Micra less...
Long story cut short....
Fact: only arseholes/infirm/aged drive Nissan Micras. This has little bearing on anything but I feel better telling you.
A little man decides to pull out of a junction and turn right without noticing I'm travelling on the road he's just turned into. Result: weighed anchor narrowly missing him.
Generally I'm cool with idiots however, he makes that 'cheery wave after looking in his rear view like his just been let out of a junction through me being courteous and just wanting to test my brakes'. Gets to the queue at the light sand I'm at his door giving him my considered opinion.
He decides to lock his door and make rude gestures (brave and stupid - always a fun combo) so I grab his door handle which comes off in my hand. I then throw the broken handle at the window somewhat de-stressed and amused that this pathetic piece of Jap Crap has come apart with minimal effort.
Fast forward three weeks and there's a phone call from PC Plod. The half wit has taken my reg and called the Rozzers. Cue suitably apologetic conversation with an 'old school' copper who suggests I make amends by posting this numb nuts a cheque for the door handle and then he won't have to pay me a visit and fill in forms. I agree and the filth gives me his address!!!! (Data Protection - whats that?)
I dutifully sent off a cheque to the supplied address, waited 'til it cleared thus verifying the pillocks whereabouts and then in the still of the night paid his Micra a visit with iron filings. For those not of a destructive persuasion - sprinkling iron filings onto paintwork in a pattern (or words of your choice) overnight sees them a) become rusty with the condensation / dew / wet and b) eat into the paint / attach itself to the bodywork so that the only thing that can be done is the panel needs to be sanded flat and repainted. Not something an insurance firm will be doing on a ten year old car.....write off.
So - until the pay out (approx three weeks) and the long last drive to the knackers yard this one handled blue pile of sh*te drove around with 'wanker' in rust on the bonnet and sex pest on the roof.
Do I win a prize?
(Tue 17th Oct 2006, 15:28, More)
( , Fri 27 Apr 2007, 10:48, Reply)
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