In work, I hate speaking to grannies
but yesterday I had the unexpected good fortune of speaking to a cool granny which I managed to get speaking like a pirate (after I informed her that it was indeed "International Speak Like a Pirate Day").

Cheered me up all night that.
( Jeccius Steam Borderlands 2 junkie, Wed 20 Sep 2006, 20:04, Reply)

My Work Firewall's Shit
It randomly stops browsing to a multitude of sites, and regularly blocks access to even our normal systems in the office, fucking us all off royally.

Imagine my surprise then, that after www.b3ta.com had been blocked for about 18 months I tried it again in Jan 2006 and I got access. I've managed an extra 3000 posts since then (including making my doitwoman site from posts on this forum).

Works been a bit more survivable since this :)
( Jeccius Steam Borderlands 2 junkie, Wed 20 Sep 2006, 19:51, Reply)

I'm Welsh
with the unexpected good fortune of not wanting to fuck anything on a farm, unless it's a fit lass with big tits.
I especially don't want to fuck sheep either. I mean who made that up, really...

My uncle though....
( Jeccius Steam Borderlands 2 junkie, Wed 20 Sep 2006, 19:33, Reply)

Free Pints
Wandered into the sports bar at university one late morning. Was the first one there and the manager had just cleaned out the pipes of all the taps. Got asked by said manager if I wanted to test if the pints were alright for public consumption. Ended up with about 8 free pints at lunchtime and an afternoon nap in the comfiest chair in the bar. And I wasn't killed by the chemicals that had been used for the cleaning! Result.
(Rob Roy The Postie is looking for alternative employment, Wed 20 Sep 2006, 18:58, Reply)

While Barry George remains incarcerated...
...my luck holds
(Chopper3, Wed 20 Sep 2006, 18:21, Reply)

The Great Grumble Synchronicity
One summer's eve,whilst travelling down a local country lane in my old orange metro with the maroon wing and white bonnet,my mates and I were discussing instances of finding scud mags under hedges etc.Dear reader,the jazz mag gods were truly listening that magical night,for hoving into sight,smack in the middle of the road were 2 or 3 tattered art pamphlets.It was surely a sign from above,so we had to stop and collect the serendipitous periodicals.In retrospect,this was very stupid,seeing as the lane was only just 2 cars wide and riddled with blind bends.Still,this was free porn and we were having it.
The next problem was where to put it,'cos I had no parcel shelf to cover it in the boot and I didn't fancy parking in town with torn copies of Razzle and Fiesta on display.In the end,they went under the floor mat.I do believe I still have them somewhere,for I am a champion hoarder.
(archroy Get down wi' yer bad self., Wed 20 Sep 2006, 18:07, Reply)

Late night munchies
After a night on the piss in Sydney I decided the 24hr convenience store was beckoning for a snack on the way home.

Upon entering the store I noticed an unusual sound... turns out to be the loud snoring of the store assistant who was face down asleep on the counter, puddle of dribble and everything.

SO spying that other shoppers had left piles of coins on the counter for their purchases I did what any normal person would do....

I helped myself to:

1 "Mrs Mac's" steak & cheese pie (hot)
1 large bag of dark choc maltesers...
1 bag of milk choc too! :)
1 Tube of pringles
1 500ml bottle of "Solo" traditional lemonade
1 pron mag
1 not so pron mag
pair of cheap sunglasses (disguise)



With my booty of drunken "essentials" I considered my position... Yup, here I am... door is that way! So went home to enjoy my spoils!

Would have been rude to wake him, plus this way I got all this stuff for free!
So my lucky streak, the 10 minutes of drunken shopping while the shop assistant slept.

I discovered he was regularly sleepy and visited the store regularly over the next few weeks :)
(golddust QOTW now revolves around being a cunt, Wed 20 Sep 2006, 16:41, Reply)

Bad fortune
All afternoon I kept thinking it was Thursday and spent the last three hours excitedly refreshing this page in anticipation of a new QOTW (okay, so I did do some work as well). Imagine my horror when I realised that it was in fact Wednesday, I had one more day of work this week and it was nearly 24 hours until the next chance to whore out my silly little anecdotes.

Oh cruel fate, why do you mock me?
(grandmasterfluffles Come to my Armageddon party on, Wed 20 Sep 2006, 16:37, Reply)

One day many years ago
I was broke, with a young child, and I had only £2, from which I needed to buy enough food to last a couple of days.

This wasn't so hard back then - 6 eggs, a loaf, a pint of milk and a banana would've done it.

However, at the supermarket entrance I noticed a scratchcard booth. Throwing caution to the winds, I impulsively invested 50% of my available capital, and won a tenner.

We bought proper food AND yogurt AND fruit AND a comic, and even went home on the bus instead of trudging through the rain.

I was so scared of becoming a compulsive gambler that I never bought another scratchie.
(Juan Quar is clinging to her front teeth on, Wed 20 Sep 2006, 15:47, Reply)

I had the shits this morning.
But what luck when i noticed 3 crisp £50 notes fall out of my arse.

...and a winning lottery ticket.

...then a random blonde bird sat on my face and pedalled my ears.

you cant make this stuff up, you really cant.
(nappy rash, Wed 20 Sep 2006, 14:58, Reply)

I love the police.....No really!!!
I have only been stopped for speeding once in my career which, considering I do between 20 and 50 THOUSAND miles a year and have done so for 20 years, is not bad.
Anyhoo,I was stopped within 100 yards of my head office in Royston in my brand-new Audi A6 for doing 38 in a 30 zone. It was Hertfordshire's finest just doing their job I suppose and I wasn't the least bit arsey or snide, just gave them the info they wanted and waited for the summons. A few days later I was called by the aforementioned police and asked why they had "my name and phone number in a PC's pocketbook"? I wasn't about to tell them that this info was the ONLY bit the PC had actually written down, the rest had gone into a small pocket pc type thing that they were trialling and guess what? The numpty had deleted the info instead of downloading it into the constabulary's mainframe!! Letoff number one.
Letoff number two was this week when I recieved a letter from Northamptonshire ticket office (ALL bastards, every one of them. No, really, all of them) that they were not going to prosecute me for doing 35 in a 30 even though they had a pic from a truvelo. May have something to do with the fact that they took 2 MONTHS to inform me, not the legislated 28 days.
Which is nice.
My length and girth are no joke, believe me.
(Captain Placid 24/7 ball gags, brownie mix and clown porn, Wed 20 Sep 2006, 14:32, Reply)

Good Fortune
I reached down to pick up a pile of steaming poo deposited by my dog this morning and noticed three £10 notes folded up on the floor about two inches away.

I thought of it as Gods little thankyou for being a good dog owner.
( The Beast can't help looking at womens breasts on the tube, Wed 20 Sep 2006, 13:43, Reply)

Good fortune. Sortof.
So I'm driving in my new (to me) VW Bora and I saw a car in the distance. Oh-hoh, says I, I'll chase him down and catch him.

Wrong.

I'm in my Bora, a small family saloon - not my Seat Leon, which had the sports suspension. Bora has big springy springs.

Road ahead goes 90 degrees to the left - I don't. In fact I go straight on. Backwards. Into a field. At about 50.

Sounds like bad fortune - but no! The field is a big soft one, with a little angled kerb and no trees and no ditch and no angry farmer. Only damage was a destroyed tyre which needed replacing anyway - Bonus :-)

Gets better (sortof) the handling was off afer this (as you can imagine) - turns out I'd destroyed the shock absorber which was then replaced under VW warranty (Obviously I didn't tell them the truth).

Incidentally, if this is read by someone who at VW knows about this - this is all an alleged story. Honest.

Penis joke here.....
(james_tiger_woods is going to start his killing spree on the, Wed 20 Sep 2006, 13:26, Reply)

Bit long, not very funny, but pretty lucky
Way back in the winter of 1997, and after a prolonged illness, my best mate's grandma passed away. He was sad, but the fact that he inherited four thousand of your english pounds considerably softened the blow.

Once the money was safely deposited in his bank account, he did what any self-respecting 17 year old would do and promptly went out and spunked the lot on a D-reg 1.6 Ford Orion Ghia. Looking back on it, it was a shit car, but at the time cruising around the A roads of Cambridge countryside, we felt like nothing less than Crockett and Tubbs.

Because my mate had only just passed his test, he pranged it a couple of times over the first couple of weeks and we used to laugh at the rapidly increasing number of dents and scrapes on the Orion's matt black paintwork.

So one evening me and my mate are larraping alone some road in The Fens pushing about 70 miles an hour. It was pitch black and the road had deep water-filled ditches running either side of it with fields beyond. Like I say, my mate was pretty inexperienced behind the wheel. A trecherous bend in the road appears out of nowhere - cue my life flashing before me as my mate looses control and the back end of the car snakes about behind us.

Although I have no recollection of it, apparently I screamed "GET CONTROOOOOL" at my mate, moments before the front end of the car dipped off the edge of the road into the ditch causing the back end to lift, and launching the car into a spectacular, straight-out-of-a-hollywood-action-movie roll.

The car took the time to bounce on both its bonnet and boot before coming to a rest in one of the fields beyond the ditch.

I was later told by emergency services that, unlike in the movies, it is extremely rare for a car to catch fire after an accident. However, as myself and my mate sat shell-shocked in the car in the middle of this field in the middle of the night, staring through the shattered windscreen, the entire bonnet burst into flames - almost instantly.

So I push my door and miraculously it opens and I fall out into the cold night air and leg it a few metres away from this burning wreck - expecting my mate to follow.

To my horror there's no sign of him and for a few awful, awful, awful seconds I contemplate the possibity that i'm going to have to rescue my mate from this burning car. Luckily, as i stand there deciding whether I'll be living the rest of my life as a hero or a dispicable coward, my mate appears through the smoke hobbling towards me.

We both give each other the once over, expecting to find some godawful gash or exposed bone - but nothing. Not a scratch on either of us.

Being a more innocent time before mobile phones, we had no way of contacting anyone, so both just stood there laughing hysterically, adrenaline pumping through us, watching the car burn out. I remember we'd had the Spice Girls Tape (I know, i know ) playing in the car and even as the fire consumed the entire car the tape deck blasted out Wannabe for ages and ages. It kind of felt like the car was singing at as, mocking us.

Anyways, after a while a car comes along in the distance and gets closer. Seeing two young ethnic guys standing in the middle of nowhere, next to a burning car, clearly made them shit themselves because they turned around sharpish without stopping to speak to us to see if we were alright.

Fair play to them though because they must have raised the alarm as about twenty minutes later a fire engine and ambulance turn up sirens blazing. Admittedly, due to the fire the car was in a pretty bad state by the time the rozzers arrived, but one of the fireman said that he simply couldn't believe we'd walked away from the accident.

Despite that world weary demeanour all emergency services people have, he did seem genuinely shocked.

So we go to hospital and have x rays on our necks (who knows?) and aside from a bit of whiplash we're both fine. Hilariously, the hospital actually sends my mate (As the driver in a single vehicle accident) a 'voluntary' bill for the treatment we recieved. Standard now apparently.

The next day my mate's parents drive us out there to see the wreck in the daylight, and it's well and truly fucked. The car came to rest two metres away from a metal pylon stuck in the field that would have meant curtains for one of us if we'd hit it.

Also, because it was such a heap of shit the front passenger seatbelt used to lock when you pulled it to put it on, and you had to spent 10 minutes trying to tease it towards you so that you could put it on. Often I didn't bother, but for some reason (maybe the mad glint in my mate's eye) I'd made the effort on that particular evening and put it on. Again, curtains if I hadn't.

So there you go. Pretty lucky I'm sure you'll agree.

To bring it home to us how lucky we'd been, about a month later, on roughly the same streach of road, four kids lost control of their motor and failed to clear the ditch.

Three of them drowned because it had been raining so the water level had risen, and they became trapped in their car which had flipped over.

All true. I've got a picture of the burnt out Orion which I had up on my wall throughout University. I thought It conveyed on me a certain dangerous cache, but it mainly just made me look like someone who liked looking at pictures of rusty, brown shits.
(MrTea, Wed 20 Sep 2006, 13:24, Reply)

The first time I got away with it...
The first time I got pulled over by the cops, I was just17 and it was wintertime. I had for some inexplicable reason decided to drive right through the next town centre on my way home from my now usual Friday night out. Driving a tad too fast or as quick as the old Cortina could do, I was forced to take a bend on the wrong side of the road. As it was freezing and both the windscreen and my eyes were a little misty, I marvelled at my new found driving skill. It was then that I suddenly realised that the building on the corner was in fact the local police station (oh shit) and surprise surprise, a panda car trundled out in hot pursuit. Strangely a rather surreal chase followed at regular speeds and over pronounced safe driving as per the Highway Code. As I pulled out of town onto the main road, the police Allegro overtook and waved me in. My heart sank, having been out since the last lesson at college that night and had ended up in a nightclub while 2am, with little or nothing to eat, I guessed I was more than over the limit (as regards booze anyway). To my amazement the cops seemed more interested in whether or not my car was stolen, as I tried to hold my breath in the driver’s seat. PC Sherlock deduced a cunning plan and asked what was in the boot? Alert to such trickery I answered, a spare wheel, a jack and some old tools. Thinking they’d got me, I was requested to get out and open the boot. Now as the era was early 80’s and I was dressed as some “new wave punk” I didn’t realise that when I got out of the car I’d trapped my trench coat in the door. With one pace towards the rear of the car on the icy road and I was on my arse! (oops ociffer etc..) Regaining my now diminished composure, I resolved to open the boot as instructed. Much to the disappointment of the coppers, all was present and nothing amiss. Then to my complete amazement they bidded me farewell and wished me a safe journey home, which was nice…
(minky, Wed 20 Sep 2006, 12:10, Reply)

APOCALYPSO!
When I was working in London as a script editor I was sent a mysterious script one day in an unmarked brown paper package. It was the story of a man who left his home and family in search of kung fu skills which gave him immortality and immense power so that he wound up ruling the planet.
Once I had read the story, I couldn't get it out of my head. The man in it was so similar to me it was scary. He looked the same, he had the same homelife, job, car... everything.
In the end, I realised that this was some sort of sign. I was destined to follow the story of this man in real life. So, within a week, I had left my wife and three children and sold all of my possessions to fund the journey to the mystic east. I took an Easy Jet flight to Tibet where I intended to start my studies at a Shaolin temple.
After a bumpy landing, I was met in the airport by a tall, thin monk with a very long beard. I had told no one I was coming so I was surprised that he seemed to know me. He led me to his Harley Davidson in the multistory carpark and, just as I was about to get into the sidecar, he sprayed me with mace. Tears streaming down my face, I blindly tried to run away. However, with no knowledge of my surroundings, I fell over what felt like an Austin Metro and the next thing I felt was the monk coshing me accross the back of the head with something hard and metallic.
I awoke around noon the next day with a throbing headache and very poor vision. I was tied to a rock at the top of a mountain. All of my money had been stolen. As far as I could tell, I had been left on my own to die. I began to weep.
Lost in my tears, it wasn't until the footsteps were very close that I heard them. I looked up, and despite my fuzzy vision, I knew what this was; a wolf. A fucking huge wolf. As a trained backwoodsman, I knew how to scare a wolf away, so I began to scream at the wolf in a shrill manner. This angered the wolf terrifically and he immediately savaged me by biting clean through my arm. This rendered my bindings worthless, so I stood and began to run away as fast as I could. The wolf pursued me, so, to distract him, I untied my dismembered left forearm from my right wrist and threw it to him. It worked.
As I made good my escape, I vowed to return home to my wife and family as quickly as I was able and to give in on my kung fu quest. I began walking in the direction of the sun, for want of any better guide to civilisation.
A week later I crawled into the village of Nykbll and collapsed, dehydrated and malnourished, in the middle of the main road through the village.
A truck ran over my legs, crippling me for life.
The driver, repentent and wishing to help, put my unconcious body on the back of his truck and drove me to the nearest hospital, ninety miles away. However, with no money the hospital refused to help. I was left in the gutter outside, begging for pennies just to eat. No one would even look at me as my body was so hideously contorted.
One day, I decided to use the money I had made begging to phone my wife and beg her forgiveness and help to return home.
However, when I called I ended up speaking to a neighbour who was clearing the house out. A week earlier she had accidentally left the oven on. It went out and gassed her and all three of my children. Our oven had always been temperamental and she had no sense of smell and always relied on me to notice when this had happened in the past.
It was only through unexpected good fortune that I hadn't been there to die too.
How I laughed.
( baldmonkey a frothy foul-smelling vaginal discharge, Wed 20 Sep 2006, 11:38, Reply)

Phone jamminess (it was orange, so I guess actually marmaladiness)
when I got my first shitty mobile phone years ago it was on some stupid contract where you had 10 free minutes a day or some such.

after a while of using it, it became apparent that not only was I not being charged for my calls over these 10 minutes, but that they were in fact crediting the value of them to my account.

This seemed like an excellent state of affairs to me, but I didn't rinse them for all they were worth as I feared that they would inevitably come back to me and get me to pay these calls and as a poor stupid I doubted I'd be able to afford it....

come the end of my contract I was awaiting the phone call or letter demanding that I pay the amount required.

Lo and behold a letter from Orange did arrive, but not only were they not trying to get me to pay, they had sent me a cheque for the amount that had been credited to my account!

wish I had used the phone for all I was worth now, but I did end up with £70 of free calls, and a cheque for £70!
( Vipros. clever got me this far, then tricky got me in, Wed 20 Sep 2006, 11:11, Reply)

Not bad I suppose
Out the back of work with a friend on a cigarette break, when a blood stained lottery ticket wafted by.

Picked it up, checked the numbers back in the office, and only won 4.6 million!

Stood up grab said friend, slapped my manager and told him to stick the job up his arse as this place was a fucking awful company to work for, drove to Watford to claim the funds, then went out on a 7 day bender with said friend, offered everyone in the office 20k to walk out and never return to the shithole company, bought a cracking mansion in Miami and an apartment in London a few decent cars, paid my parents mortgage off, offered them another house which they declined, met a beautiful gold digging model, fantastic sex 6 times a day, couldn’t be any happier, then I woke up!

Only my dreams have good fortune, in real life I’m the unluckiest geezer I know!

Oh well!
(DiamonKn My Nan Smells of Twigs, Wed 20 Sep 2006, 11:10, Reply)

QOTW can cause good fortune
When I first read the topic of this weeks Question last Sunday, I thought "Shit it, nothing fortuitous has happened to me recently, expected or otherwise."

After casually scanning a few stories, I promptly buggered off down the pub to get semi-shitted. On the way homw,I stopped at a local food emporium. Having placed my order, I went outside for a pish, came back in a couple minutes later. The guy behind the counter hands me my food, says goodbye then disappears through the back, without actually asking me to pay for it. I swiftly turn on my heels and fuck off out it, clutching my gratis Chicken Tikka pakora.

The next time I looked through some more of this weeks stories was yesterday afternoon, killing some time just before I left work. On the way home, I stopped at Sainsbury to buy a belt. Price tag said £8.00, but when the girl scanned it through the till, it went through at 50p. Of course, rather than think something might be amiss and question the price, she happily accepted my proffered 50p, and, once again, off I fucked, happy in the knowledge that reading this QOTW had directly resulted in good fortune.

Although, after reading a bit more today, I have to report that the free pakora has given me such severe stomach pain, that I am now off to hang myself with my 50p belt. Ah well, you can't win all the time.

Apologies for length of belt, its not quite enough to reach aroung the ceiling beams
(Last Night a DJ Shaved My Wife, Wed 20 Sep 2006, 11:06, Reply)

Free Gas and Leccy for a year
When we first moved to London we rented a shitty flat in Newington green. The place was a dump but it was cheap and when we cleaned it up it wasn't too bad.

Anyway we got our gas a electricity through Gritish Bas and all was fine for a year until I started receiving Red letter from Powergen saying I owed them £600 odd and they were going to cut me off. Phoned Powergen and they claimed that I had signed up with them for my Gas and Electricity (which I hadn't) and they had not received one payment that year.

This was all baffling and annoying as I was skint. After numerous phone calls to GB and Powergen I worked out that I was being billed for the wrong flat.

Turns out the Little Scottish Scrout who lived in the flat below me had signed up for Powergen and put my name and flat number down. Not only that I was paying GB for his flat as well. GB and Powergen didn't care and just wanted their money. So I phoned Energywatch who were very helpful. Once GB and Powergen got wind that I was making an official complaint all was squared.

GB refunded me a years worth of bills which something close to £500 and Powergen went after my neighbour (who had done a runner) for their money.

Moved about a month later into a flat in Finchley and never bothered paying for gas or electricity for a year (they never sent a bill).
(funstuie, Wed 20 Sep 2006, 10:54, Reply)

Ahhh ... exam luck
Reminds me of my Geography O level. (Oh dear, that ages me... yes, I sat O levels not GCSEs...)

You know that air of stress and fear that hangs over an exam hall like a suffocating dull grey blanket? We all filed in, sat down, and were told to start. We all took one look at the map that we had to interpret, and in a flash, the blanket vanished. 100 sixteen-year-old faces lit up with optimism. Which few square miles of the UK had the exam board chosen? Yes, it was the small section of OS map centred on our school's coach house in Wales.

The same coach house that we had all stayed at several times. The same section of map that had therefore been used to illustrate every single bl00dy mind-numbing Geography lesson that we had had to suffer all those years. The one map extract that we could all draw with our eyes shut. Result.

Still only got a B, though.
(patently Was somewhere else on, Wed 20 Sep 2006, 10:15, Reply)

Nice bit of parking...
Had a bit of an "oops" moment on Friday night...

Was driving home, a friend called (on hands-free, don't worry!) to say she was home and did I want to pop round. Yes, I did, I hadn't seen her for a few days. So going through the next village I took a left to head back down to her house, about 10 minutes away.

Somewhere down that stretch of road I nodded off at the wheel. Because the next thing I knew I was on top of a T-junction (on the side road) doing nearly 60mph with no time to stop.

Obviously I hit the brakes - hard. ABS or no ABS I wasn't going to stop. The car hit the kerb opposite (which was a raised kerb, about 14 inches off the road surface), the front end lifted, the back end followed, the car went straight across a 20-foot wide grass verge and ended up burrowing into a hedge.

Being a modern German car the doors unlocked, the interior light came on and the hazard lights turned on automatically.

The first thing I thought... "oh... FUCKSOCKS!"

I opened the door and realised I was 10 feet into a bramble hedge. Oh, great, I don't have a scratch on me and now I'm going to get shredded by brambles! As it turns out I got past the brambles without getting scratched.

When the car was pulled clear of the hedge the damage seemed minimal. It wasn't drivable, but it's been assessed and they've said it's repairable.

Turns out that because I was still doing over 50mph when I hit the kerb the front end lifted and the lower bumper took most of the impact. Had I been going slower the front of the car would have gone square-on into the raised kerb and probably written the car off.
(RabidRodent I'm the person your mother warned you about, Wed 20 Sep 2006, 9:45, Reply)

More exams
Doing an A-level in classical studies. The paper gave you a quote from a text on Roman politics and required you to say where it came from in the book, what its context was and what it meant. This meant you had to virtually memorise the text.

Imagine my surprise, then, when the quote in question was from the very same page I'd been reading two minutes before I went into the exam room. Got an A.
(frankspencer, Wed 20 Sep 2006, 9:33, Reply)

Larrikin Love
I went to see Larrikin Love last night at Acedemy 3 in Manchester with a few of mates. We got stuck right at the front, getting churned about like a big soup or something. About four songs into the set, my glasses get knocked off, and I freak out. My friends and I were scouring the floor forany sign of my lovely black plastic specs, but alas, they were nowhere. A mate drags me out and sits me down while I dissolve into tears and cling onto the wall.

Sixty fucking quid. And I was saving up for a weekend away on papergirl money and everything.

About half an hour later, the other friends stagger out as the gig finishes holding my beloved glasses :)
They were on the floor right next to the stage :)

Minus both the arms.

Feck.
(The Disillusioned Starburst, Wed 20 Sep 2006, 8:56, Reply)

pub prizes
are the best when they come from your mates.

a mate of mine was singing at my local a few years ago and the bar manager thought it'd be a grand idea to offer prizes of free drinks and shit along those lines in mystery envelopes. there were three other major prizes as well. 26 inch colour tv, free breakfasts in the restaurant every day for a year, and a free jug of beer everyday for a year.

over the next few weeks, i won a few goodies, tshirts with pub name on it, a few free beers. all good so far.
then the bar man said to me, the boss has just put the first big prize in with the usual lot tonight. free beer for a year was what i was after. some other lucky bastard won it but crikey i wanted that one. next week i was lucky enough to win the free breakfast for a year, but as i don't eat breakfast (never up in time) it was a waste.
but bugger me with a wet fish, the guy who won the free beer came up to me and asked if i wanted to swap prizes. hell yes i said. apparantly he only drinks burbon and would rather have had a free feed.
result.
so as i'm merrily sucking down free beer everyday after work, the next week was my mates last week at the pub singing and all the remainder of the prizes had to be given out. guess who won the tv that night. yes, me. free beer, free tv and a hangover later i considered myself the luckiest guy in the village.
6 years ago now. haven't won a thing since.
(fushundchups taste better with vinegar, Wed 20 Sep 2006, 4:21, Reply)

ooooh
Whilst I'm on the subject of sparky's...

My mate Tim (who is also a sparky)was doing a job last year in an old take away. He was re-positioning his ladders and needed to move some rubble. When he did so, he discovered two £20 notes... great! Half an hour later, he moved the ladders again and found another £100 in crisp twenties.

So, he gave told his workmate he'd just found £40 and 'split' him £20 quid.

Tim walked away with £100 in his pocket.

Great.
(mr-lizard Hell's teeth man!, Wed 20 Sep 2006, 3:18, Reply)

Not me but...
My mate who I will refer to as 'D' due to legal reasons...

He's a sparky and was contracted to do a job in an empty flat which just so happened to be above a recently abandoned off-licence. He was working late on his own and for some reason or other needed to rip up the floorboards.... Well, he discovered he had found access to the abandoned off-licence below. He removed a few more floorboards and decided to lower his ladders down... He found the shop still contained lots and lots and lots of stock.

The beer and cider had gone off, there were no spirits in the shop, but what it did contain was hundreds of wine bottles...

So, a quick phone call to his brother and within the hour they had loaded the van up, finished off the job, replaced the floor boards and buggered off to get very pissed.

He popped around my house the next day with about six or seven bottles! Result.
(mr-lizard Hell's teeth man!, Wed 20 Sep 2006, 3:14, Reply)

For fuck's sake, don't try this.
You know the deal if you have a rear wheel drive car. If you get the chance, you give it a bit too much right foot, and try and get the tail out on a corner, starsky & hutch style. We have all tried it if we have had the chance.

Well, I drive an Iveco long-wheelebase van that is rear-wheel drive. It had just rained, after 2-3 months of blistering sun, so all that yellow sap has been washed off the trees, onto the road. It was about 4 o'clock, and the traffic was starting to biuld up, and I had stuff to get done. I wanted to make a gap at a roundabout, so put the boot down, without realising how ludicrously slippery the ground would be.

Long story short, as onlookers watched, staring through their wndscreens, slack-jawwed, I put an 8 metre long, 3.5 ton long-wheelbase van into what can only be described as a perfect opposite lock power-slide, at 50 mph, during rush-hour, and saved it to fire it off up the road, leaving the entire roundabout at a total standstill.

Even the pedestrians had stopped.
(Superfool is going to skull-fuck your ladyfriends..., Wed 20 Sep 2006, 1:44, Reply)

Unlucky Fried Kitten
I was visiting my friend in Croydon one Saturday night, to celebrate his birthday. Needless to say, everyone got slaughtered, I more than most.

Come chucking out time, we were all pissed-up and hungry, so I went into KFC for whatever I could get. I waited patiently at the end of the epic line, trying not to sway like the drunken lord I am, and as I got nearer the till, a young chap stepped in front of me in the queue. Without thinking, I blurted out the immortal line...

"Nigger please"

Don't ask me where the hell it came from...one to many Chris Rock shows perhaps. Who knows, but the entire restaurant , including the staff heard it. Now, bear in mind that everyone in KFC in Croydon that night, including the staff, were black.

I dont remember very much of the entire incident, but the queue parted like the Red Sea for Moses, and I walked to the front, got served, and most importantly didn't get the royal beating that many would argue I richly deserved.

I would say that makes me a fairly lucky man, but if anyone wants to see if they can survive it, then please feel free to have a go.

And, yes, I know it was a terrible thing to say. No, I am not racist, and I do not think that saying nigger is acceptable or funny. And no, they didnt spit in my food, cos it was already boxed.

Thankyou.
(Superfool is going to skull-fuck your ladyfriends..., Wed 20 Sep 2006, 1:32, Reply)