Everyone's a winner
It’ been some time since I wrote on here so hold tight, this is a long one……

This is a tale of ignorance, belligerence, and achievement over adversary.

When I was a nipper sport for me was a minefield of accidents waiting to happen. Not the sort fall over or trip up kind of accidents, but the sort of accidents that involve urinating ones trousers. You would think this is the kind of thing that would build character in one so young, well I can tell you now …… does it fuckery. All it does is turn you into a bitter an twister person who hates the bones of every cunt who thinks it oh so fucking funny to laugh at other people physical ailments. For the record it’s a mild form of spina bifida.

So, sports were pretty much off the menu for me and this led to a level of disownment from my father. He wanted a strong son who he could show to his mates a true sportsman, but I was a slightly crippled young man who revelled in reading military history and discovering new and interesting forms of masturbation. So in effect, I was a serial wanker who was fast becoming an authority of Russian munitions from 1909 to 1945, stud!

The disownment from my father was small potatoes considering the abuse I was taking at school for my little “pissypants” problem. My grandad on the other hand was the one who was feeding my little military history habit. He was a RAF spitfire pilot during the war and collected memorabilia from the time. I adored all his books and medals but above all I loved his stories from the war. Turns out he was quite the cad and pretty much deflowered half of southern Britain during his tenure.
Anyway, my dear old grandad was as tough as nails (he had 1 lung after beating lung cancer) also a dab hand at bike mechanics. I was never into cycling when I was young but my grandad built me a bike from 10th birthday. To this day I have never known why he built me a bike but it changed my life forever that day I received it. The bike he built for me was a ‘’Fixie”, 1 gear, 1 brake and you can’t coast, it is essentially a road going track bike. The man was obviously a genius because it turned out that no matter how much physical excursion I put into cycling I did not leak any urine. That summer was magical, I made new friends, got very healthy and discovered something about myself that would have remained dormant without cycling, I have the lung capacity of a fucking whale. The fucking spina bifida had constructed my body I such a way that my chest cavity was way out of proportion to the rest of my body. So I can just keep going and going. (in later years my sexual my energy has proved to be somewhat of selling point for the young ladies).

Four years later and I had joined a cycle club and made quite the name for myself on the junior circuit. My grandad drove me to races and encouraged me all the way. It was the summer of 96 and I was racing in the final of the southern championship under 14 “points” race. I was still using bikes built by my grandad and I was up against over privileged, little snot nosed arse wipes with expensive bikes and pushy parents. My bike was laughed at because it was not covered in expensive Italian names; my attitude was fuck the lot of them! What they did not know was that my grandad had intimate knowledge of bearings and if you know anything about the wheels, the better the bearing the faster the wheel will turn. It was not the ingenious stuff the Mr Obree was doing but it was his use of different axle grease’s that was real clever. Anyway, I knew I had a good chance as the preliminary rounds went well without putting much effort in but I wanted to crush the snide little cunts that belittled me. It was semi-psycho cathartic exercise in retribution for me. I saw all these opponents as the bullies at school who had knocked me down so many times and killed off what little confidence I had.

Points races consist of anywhere between 20 and fifty laps with intermittent sprints that account for points. But to get the big points you have to lap the field. Not fucking easy. The race started off as any normal race but I had a plan, set a stupid high pace between the sprints but do no contest the sprints, this meant I could control the lactic acid build up in my legs and go for the lapping at the end. They were all falling for it, stupid ego’s all contesting sprints that hold little value. 22 laps out of 30 and just after the 2nd from last sprint I made my move, the field were all shattered from sprinting and I went for it at top speed. I got out of my saddle and belted off like a scalded cat. I had 8 laps to catch the field up, it was going to hurt but I was doing this to prove to myself that I was equal to all the able bodied riders and for my grandad who gave me this new confidence to express myself. I was catching the field quicker than I imagined, in 5 laps I reached the back of the pack at had achieved enough points to claim victory. All I had to do know it sit tight and avoid the final sprint. The final lap was bearing down at the pace jumped up, I decided to slip to back of the pack but one the riders decided to take his chance and shoulder barge me. I came tumbling down like a tonne on bricks and took 5 other riders with me. This was an outdoor gravel track in south London I was doing close to 30mph at the time.….ouch. I broke my leg, arm, dislocated my shoulder and had scares that made freddy kreuger look like an advert for good skincare. Fuck me the pain was unbearable for weeks and put an end to my elaborate masturbation techniques. It was also the end of my racing career due to the fact my bones did not heal well and I had kept my spina bifida quiet, no team would touch me with a 50ft shit stick.

About 5 years later I was working one Sunday and got a call from my mum to say my grandad had been taken to hospital following a heart attack. I left work and cycled top speed to the hospital. I never made to say goodbye to my grandad as my chain snapped. Ironically it was rather expensive Japanese componentry I was using on my bike, my grandad would have not approved and probably would have made some pseudo racist remark while looking down upon me.

I lost the race and my grandad but I did win confidence and the ability to overcome difficult circumstances. Next year I am doing John O’Groats to Lands End on a fixed gear bike I’m building myself, it will be in aid of The Royal British Legion. I’m hoping to do it in 5 days, I’ll be thinking of my grandad all the way. Thanks for listening.
(CaptainCuntyBollocks the man who can with a frying pan full of lamb, Sat 30 Apr 2011, 23:00, 13 replies)

Kylie, Somerset & a deaf brother
Bit of a pea.

Oh, only a little thing.

Cast your minds back to 2000 and a Channel 4 television show presented by Zöe Ball and Jamie Theakston called The Priory. Each week had a competition and on the week Kylie Minogue was a guest the spangly prize was a pair of Glastonbury tickets.

I duly entered and was announced as the winner by Ms Minogue live on air hence the deaf sibling who made the mistake of standing next to me at the precise moment my name flashed up on screen and I screamed the house down.

Said brother still hasn't forgiven me for watching Basement Jaxx on the Sunday night instead of Sir David of Bowieshire.

Length? Three days long baby!
(Sahara Desert http://www.twitter.com/thesaharadesert for swears, Sat 30 Apr 2011, 21:08, 2 replies)

Doctor Who '82
As a very self-conscious and awkward ten year old finishing up primary school, Dr Who meant a lot to me. I was completely obsessed with Tom Baker's final season, and entered a WH Smith competition to meet him. To everyone's astonishment, I won (my father still has the newsagent's local paper 'Prestwick Girl Meets Dr Who!' poster in his shed).

For whatever reason, the publishers organising the competition didn't get round to giving me my prize for ages, about a year. By this time I had moved to my horrible comprehensive secondary school, and Peter Davidson was the Doctor, who was great, but not my Doctor.

Finally, they came up with the goods and my mum and I were on the sleeper to London. I still can't believe from the pictures what my parents made me wear. Seriously, I was eleven years old and,let's face it, auditioning to be the youngest doctor's companion ever. But there I am in the pics, with a hideous boy's haircut, and a free- the shame- adult male's tshirt advertising guitar strings from my father's music shop, along with a large pair of khaki shorts (boys), brown sandals and bare hairy legs.

Down into the bowels of television centre, and into a vast black space, filled with people anxiously wrapping foam mattresses with silver foam to make space mattresses. A big rubber monster had his head off and we were warned not to photograph him (for what, I wonder now, in 1983- to sneakily auction to the TV Times?). And, in the far corner, standing outside the iconic box as if he'd just popped straight down, was a tall man wearing a stick of celery on his lapel. Of course I responded brilliantly by immediately burst into tears.

As the Doctor politely posed for pics I asked, of course, to see inside the TARDIS. He looked at me kindly. "Son" he said, "I think you'll be very disappointed."

*

You can imagine how cool all this made me at school. That's right: not at all. It was hell. And I had another five years to get through. Thank God for Russell T. Davies and how times have changed. And I have worn my hair long ever since.
(fancypants, Sat 30 Apr 2011, 18:36, 3 replies)

Prom Night
Whilst all my mates won awards and accolades such as sportsman of the year, most likely to go to Cambridge, most likely to be Prime Minister etc etc, I was delighted to win the award for 'The person most likely to be sent home drunk from the prom'. This was ace for a 17 year old, and the certificate still lives in my dads shed, pride of place.
(Hoaxy The only living boy in new cross, Sat 30 Apr 2011, 17:05, 1 reply)

Fore!
Just yesterday on my brother's 30th birthday I won the bi-annual 'Gaybear Challenge Golf Cup' off him. He'd won it every time bar (now) twice since it started on my 21st birthday 12 years ago.

Prior to this I have also won:

A Blue Peter badge, and used it to get in YOUR MUM absolutely free.
450 quid in a Las Vegas Casino.
At LEAST 3 quid off those 2p shove machines at Hunstanton.
A writing competition to have my screenplay made.*

*Still waiting...
(Galahad is out of his gourd on yellow bentines, Sat 30 Apr 2011, 16:24, 2 replies)

A years supply of cat products...
We lived in a small house with no storage space some years back - it wasn't even big enough to swing our cat. Oh, the irony.

Imagine my joy to get a knock at the door one morning to take delivery of:

300 x tins of Whiskas
50 x cartons of kitten milk
100 x Pouches of wet food
Some random cat treats/toys...

...and 52 x 5kg bags of cat litter. A QUARTER OF A TONNE of fucking cat litter. What the fuck did they think we owned? Lions with IBS?

*sigh*
(tinpixel, Sat 30 Apr 2011, 13:42, 7 replies)

I won the prize for best student in my high school
This did not get me laid.
(McChinaman banned, Sat 30 Apr 2011, 13:15, Reply)

For "win" read "steal"
Well, not quite:

Many, many wavy lines ago, there was a craze for a diy keyring type thingy called Shrinkydinks. Being young and unsound of mind I blindly followed this craze as much as my friends did. In certain packs, if you were lucky, was a voucher to get another Shrinkydink for FREE (FREE I tells ya!) I was lucky enough to get a couple of these and pursue my hobby freely. (Ahaha)

I soon realised, that in the correct light and a careful approach, one could see the voucher without opening the pack. Thus facilitating both my sisters and my own trend.

A trawl of all the local shops who sold Shrinkydinks soon turned up a whole stack of freebies. We would stand in the shop, first purchasing one, then opening it in the shop (in full view of the shopkeeper) who appeared as astounded as we did as every single pack magically turned out to be one with a free voucher in it!

I think they never repeated that offer:-((
( Blind Meach Cautiously optimistic, Sat 30 Apr 2011, 13:04, Reply)

Just last night...
went to a Royal Wedding Disco party in aid of Cancer Research organised by a friend of a friend whose hubby died of cancer. There was a fantastic raffle..
Bought four strips of raffle tickets at 50p a strip, and won Playmobil Jewel Thieves worth about a tenner, Lego City Police Chase Helicopter worth about £30 and a Vtech kiddie laptop. Not bad for a £5 ticket and £2 worth of raffle tickets.

My little lad is thrilled. Which is nice. And more to the point, over a grand was raised for the cause. And I know we all hate Bankers, but the woman organising it emailed the boss of Barclays asking cheekily could he donate a pair of tickets for any Premier League game and he emailed back saying he would. Wins all round.
( Sallyrsm, Sat 30 Apr 2011, 12:22, Reply)

A prize draw in work...
At Christmas, they had a prize draw in work. A simple "Dig your hand in the box, pull out a ticket and win something". Everyone had a go. The first person won a bottle of wine. The second won some Posh Chocolates. Then came my turn - would it be the free dinner for two? No. How about the crate of beer? Nope, no beer. What did I win? Haemorrhoid Cream. A whole tube of it.
(Kushan just wants to fit in..to your mum, Sat 30 Apr 2011, 10:43, 4 replies)

Comping
My dad is a semi-retired "comper" - someone who goes around finding all the competitions on leaflets in stores and entering them.

From memory he's won several TVs, several hifis, a gold coin, various CDs, various vouchers / small cash prizes, a trip to New Zealand, a car and innumerable crappy runners up prizes like branded baseball hats, pens etc.. Crappest prize I can recall him winning was a pond pump but since he had a pond I suppose it wasn't.

Comping infected me too. I won £1000 after A levels by entering some Barclays competition for school leavers. Had to endure a lunch with the bank manager and my smarmy cunt headmaster but it was worth it for the cash. A garden patio heater. A widescreen TV & DVD player. A £1000 of gift vouchers for Easons (Irish WHSmiths basically). A suitcase. A trip to Venice and a few smaller things.

My most useless prizes were probably the lawnmower I won for guessing the weight of a lawnmower. It didn't prove much use for someone living in student digs at the time. I also wrote into a BBC radio quiz and won Dr Norton's Antivirus which was great except I didn't have a PC. This'll give you a clue how long ago we're talking about winning this - the prize was on 5"1/4 floppy disks.

Regrettably the trend these days are stupid free draws usually via SMS. No skill required and miniscule odds of winning something worth winning. I suppose companies find it too much effort to sort through a pile of post and judge entries when they can let a computer handle everything.
(MagicMoose, Sat 30 Apr 2011, 10:09, 6 replies)

BBC competition corruption shock
In the early days of BBC 6Music, there were only about three listeners, so if you emailed in you were pretty guaranteed to get your comment read out. It also meant you were in with a fine chance of winning their compos. It also helped to have your mate working on the show. So apologies to the other two listeners who must have been wondering why it was never them who won the second half of the Buffy series boxset and the Evostik-league-level band tickets. Gold.
(futthewuck, Sat 30 Apr 2011, 9:15, Reply)

gigs
I won a years free pass to all the gigs at the local uni. Then I followed this up by getting a job in the local indie record store, which sold tickets for every other venue in town, and hence gave all the staff frebies. I don't think I paid to see a band for about 18 months!
(Simian Typewriter Supplies Pty. Ltd. is house hunting in the neighborhood of infinity, Sat 30 Apr 2011, 6:34, Reply)

My girlfriend,
is American, Ginger, a Mac owner and once spent all her money on a copy of Home Alone on VHS.

So, what do I win?
( The Awful Puppy Bakery is still bored, Sat 30 Apr 2011, 5:44, 5 replies)

I was working in a little town in north China in the 90s
...and was in a nightclub. Fantastic place, as big as an aeroplane hangar, packed with happy, friendly people and with ice-cold beer at about 20p a litre. Heaven.

When you paid to go in, you were given a ticket with a number on it. Near the end of the night, a little mini-skirted Chinese girl went on stage with a board, and held up a number. Everyone in the club started looking at their entrance tickets, so I did too, and Bugger Me! it was my number!

I put my hand up, the girl beckoned me on the stage. Since I was probably the only western face in the city (and certainly the only lanky Brit in the club), this caused a bit of interest.

The girl presented me with my prize - a Yamaha VCD player (popular there at that time), asked me a question in Chinese and stuck the microphone under my nose. I only knew two Chinese phrases so I tried the first: "Ni hao" (Hello).

It got a massive Chinese lol. She said something else, so I tried my second phrase: "Ta shi wo de yu san" (That is my umbrella).

Uproar.

I went home then and everyone pointed at me saying "umbrella" in Chinese and laughing.
(Super Jet Shoes, Sat 30 Apr 2011, 5:43, 9 replies)

I used up all my luck on Day One.
I don't win anything, ever. I could be the only person to enter a contest and I swear I'd still lose! I chalk it up to the day I was born: three months early, weighing one pound, thirteen ounces (that's what, a little under two pints?). The doctors explained to my mother that statistically, I had very little chance of surviving through the night, even with the immediate medical attention I received, and even if I were to beat those odds, the ones that I'd have no serious health problems (cerebral palsy was mentioned) and live to adulthood were even more slim. One doctor told my mother that if she hadn't picked out a name yet, she might not need to bother. She told him to fuck off. She always said that somewhere inside, she knew I wasn't going to die right then.

Guess what? I won. I'll be 34 in July, and aside from an iffy heart that's manageable on the whole, I was recently described by my doctor as bursting with health. Through the years I've randomly met a lot of new parents who have premature babies in hospital, and I've been told that seeing me, grown and healthy, gave them hope for their own little ones. So I might not ever win my body weight in Milk Tray or loads of money or other things I wouldn't at all mind having, but I daresay all my luck went to proving those doctors wrong and proving my mother right (which she now claims to be at all times).
(louveciennes , Volvospotter, Sat 30 Apr 2011, 1:59, 10 replies)

Hooray, I won a trip to Hawaii!
As I was living in the state at the time - and had been living there for 25 years prior to winning the prize - I immediately asked for a cash equivalent as I could put it to much better use: visiting a state besides Hawaii, or taking a vacation on a neighbor island that's not part of the normal prize package. Molokai, Lanai and the occasional flight out to Midway come to mind.

I did win a "guess the head count for our first 15 years" game for Sea Life Park in the late 70s but decided to turn the prize down (a 50cc scooter) upon notification. My father had obtained the first 5 years of turnstile data from a friend who worked there and let me plot future attendance growth as a mathematical exercise. I was told my guess was off by less than 300 when the next closest was a few thousand short by the head of the award committee, who laughed when he saw whose kid sent in the winning entry. It seems my father was friend to quite a few of the old missionary family heads out there, and the resulting indirect ties to island businesses. I was told, "technically we can give this to you - but thanks for turning it down."

I did receive a nice consolation prize: a month later my father took me shopping for a new bicycle, which is a viable means of transport around O'ahu, especially if you spend most of your time in the Honolulu/south shore area.
( Felis Concolor, Sat 30 Apr 2011, 1:06, 2 replies)

I make winners!
Whenever I buy something from the corner store, and the change includes some unwanted copper coated zinc, I throw the pennies on the sidewalk for children to find and pick up. A friend of mine suggested the practice and it makes me feel dirty inside.
( I smash things in my sleep uruk-hai ...and I'll look low. Now where'd they go?, Sat 30 Apr 2011, 1:00, Reply)

Over a decade ago, I won the NME crossword two weeks in row
With the subsequent HMV record vouchers, I obtained the Scott Walker back catalogue.

[At about the same time, I wrote to the NME, with shaky hand and using a thick red marker pen: "I WILL KILL AGAIN" and signed it from Courtney Love].
(theremin put the lotion in the basket on, Sat 30 Apr 2011, 0:52, 1 reply)

A Holiday
I once one a holiday. I received a phone call informing me that as I'd filled out some sort of doorstep national survey I'd been entered in to a draw, following which I'd been lucky enough to win an all-inclusive holiday for myself and my significant other. I was a bit bemused by this, being a generally drunk or otherwise damaged student, and told them I was single so had no one to take with me. Their response was 'ok we'll have to enter you in to the singles' draw instead then', and I never heard from them again. I was an idiot.
(Cardinal Chunder, Sat 30 Apr 2011, 0:30, 2 replies)

Phill Jupitus owes me a CD
Years ago, shortly after moving to sunny London, I was working in the post room of a medium-sized company. I wasn't really putting my liberal arts degree to good use, but the work kept me fit, and I met some good drinking buddies. After a time, I realised I could have a radio on in the post room without anybody minding. And thus I discovered GLR.

That's "Greater London Radio" to you. (It's never been the same since it became "BBC London Radio".) And it was a godsend. It had the sort of character and personality that I hadn't ever known in American radio stations. You know, presenters could actually choose their own music to play, that sort of thing. It was occasionally shambolic, but it was the BBC, after all, so it never got really amateurish. Great stuff.

One fine morning, a new presenter by the name of Phill Jupitus held a contest. Ring up and tell us a tourist jingle you've invented about your neighbourhood of London, he said, and if it's good enough we'll send you a CD.

Cool, thought I. That's exactly the kind of local content that makes GLR what it is. And the first winners started being read out on air, and they were funny! Can't remember them now, of course, but take my word for it. London wit, thought I.

I should try this, thought I. Spending an hour working up a good rhyme would beat the hell out of sorting memos into post boxes.

Then I realised -- all the winners I'd heard had involved nice, simple neighbourhood names, like Ealing or Clapham or Bow or Tooting -- names that you could find plenty of rhymes for.

I lived in Cricklewood.

Bollocks, thought I. I was stumped, and gave up quickly. Then it came to me, pretty much complete:

Are you in a pickle?
Would you like to settle down?
Come along to Crickle-
wood, a nicer part of town.

I rang in, and Phill's assistant liked my slogan, and they told me I'd won, and Phill read my little poem out on air.

Good thing that was reward enough, 'cause they never did send me the CD they'd promised.
(MonkeyRobo, Fri 29 Apr 2011, 23:33, 2 replies)

This is a local pub for local people.
For the background to this, you need to know that I'm not allowed to play Trivial Pursuit because I have a nasty habit of winning before any other player gets started.

Out on the piss one night with friends, it's suggested that we go back to theirs for a Chinese. The Chinese tell us it'll be a good 40 minutes, so we pop over the road for a last pint. A quiz sheet is being handed round, so I grabbed it, filled it in, chucked it in the pile with a quid entry fee, and forget about it, being by that time fairly arseholed.

"Mr. Scars has won! Would Mr. Scars please collect his prize from the bar!" I stood up, and I realised 2 things: the pub was silent, and every single one of the Fenland mouthbreathers therein was looking at me.

My friend, who was also my boss, murmured "Go and get it, while they're still in shock. Then go straight back to the house, and run."

A case of white wine, one of those Milk Trays the size of a family bible and a £20 note. I got out of the door just before the first glass was thrown.
(all my scars face forward possesses 2.5% of a hyperalloy combat chassis, Fri 29 Apr 2011, 22:51, 2 replies)

Vrrooooooooooooooommm
Back in 1995 when I was a poor poor student, eeking out food supplies to last the month, I would on a weekly basis spaff about £3 on Autosport magazine.
£3 that could have been spent on lavish treats like bread or, on a good week, cheese!

Autosport ran a fantasy F1 team type competition, the usual things you'd expect - keep to a budget, choose a car/engine/driver combo, and reap the rewards after each race. At the end of the season, the winning punter was to be spirited away to the Australian Grand Prix.
My passport was never in any danger of being needed.

In short, I was spectacularly rubbish, having chosen my team whilst off my tits on whisky.
I'll be honest, after the first 4 races of the season my spirits had been dampened and I even stopped buying my favourite racing-based mag.


It was quite a surprise then to receive a phone call from said magazine which I answered whilst balls-deep into the then girlfriend. My yelps of joy mere seconds later weren't related to my physical situation but were down to the wonderful news that I'd only gone and bloody won the 14th round of the season at the Nurburgring!

Praise be to Eddie Jordan as his cars came good that day and netted me a fucking massive Scalextric set (the cause of the whooping joy), a suitcase full of Savanne clothing (they sponsored the boy Coulthard at the time), a magnum of Moet, a subscription to Autosport (meaning I was cheese happy for a year) and best of all, the headline in the magazine the next week saying that I had "Stormed The 'Ring". Remarkable forsight from the headline writers at Autosport considering what I was up to when I got the phone call.

They called back a week later to say that David Coulthard was doing an appearance at Jenners (a bit like John Lewis but just the one shop) in Edinburgh and Savanne would like me to go down and collect my prize in person. It wasn't the most eventful day really, only two things stand out.

1 - DC is a good bloke all told, quite jolly and when looking at the reprobates lined up to see him muttered "Jesus wept"
2 - A suitcase of Savanne togs is fucking heavy and a pain in the arse to lug about on a busy train with no luggage racks left.


I still have a copy of the magazine kicking about somewhere, mostly for the comedy headline I won't lie.


(Ninja spelling edit (x3), also it was £1.95 a week, not £3 odd)
(Added pictorial evidence in the replies)
( SpackyWomble, Fri 29 Apr 2011, 22:23, 6 replies)

TWO BUS TOKENS! How envious you must be, I gloat.
( tromboner cherophobia is my kind of fun, Fri 29 Apr 2011, 21:33, Reply)

I won an onion growing competition at work ...
As you can see, my two colleagues didn't put quite as much effort into it as I did (yes, they were all planted around the same time, and the sets were all from the same batch which we nabbed from another colleague). Needless to say we didn't really need the scales ...



I felt a bit guilty about fleecing £10 off them, so I sent said tenner and winning onions home with my OH via Sainsburys - he then purchased some ingredients and added the winning onions into a couple of yummy home made quiches for the office. Win all round!

(The big onion on the bottom left wasn't an entry, it was there to show what we could have done, and the carrot was there so my colleague could prove she could actually grow something).
(annierat1 doesn't have anything interesting to add on, Fri 29 Apr 2011, 21:17, Reply)

A Years Supply of Cobra Beer!
for just this:

www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bpk8AQgZObw

A 50sec short written, filmed, and sent off in about an hour and a half straight.

We failed to notice a candle burning a bloody great hole in the top of my TV though, so all in all I think I actually lost this compo.

The beer lasted about a month - so I think I should have been able to sue for the rest...

Oh - and I have no idea who put this up on youtube - it's not me or the other guy involved
(jugglinbob Not giving a damn since:, Fri 29 Apr 2011, 20:56, 3 replies)

7"" Singles and Beer Tokens.
Once my local radio station did an outside broadcast from my school, I somehow managed to get on stage and answered the question what is a saluki and I won 3 7"" singles one was by Bobby Brown.

More recently I sent an E-Mail just for the sake of it to Weatherspoon's and a few days later they said it was being published in the their magazine and sent me £20's worth of beer tokens.
(Mitchell Gant, Fri 29 Apr 2011, 20:51, Reply)

At a concert for the truly uninspiring
Canadian group Prism, a 4 piece cheeseboard who make Spinal Tap look classy and sophisticated. As my wife set off for more beer I suggested that she invest the change in a $5 ticket for the huge stainless steel barbecue that was being raffled as nobody seemed to be buying.She bought 2. The second ticket won it.
It's just the best thing ever, $1000 worth of natural gas (hooks up the the house supply so y'never run out) powered shiny cookery with a rotisserie and assorted bells and whistles.
I love my bbq and we use it several times a week year round.
I still can't forgive Prism for their show though.
( Infidel , shit and wrong, Fri 29 Apr 2011, 20:40, Reply)

The Unexpecting Raffler
For being one of fifty applicants chosen to participate in the Helsinki Printing House 50th Anniversary raffle in 1988, I was presented with a beautiful white-framed, export-quality racing bike which I rode for over 25 years.
(bellend Olde Phart, Fri 29 Apr 2011, 19:37, 3 replies)