Once upon a time...
There was a large city. So large, that trains ran in the sky. While this helped keep the streets clear to a degree, it blocked the sun. So the logical place was to put them underground. Come the decade that roared, and Lindy was the toast of the world, plans were made. But before a shovel could dig, the big crash came down. Oh the dream of this underground railway, was never forgotten, but it was delayed. It was ready to go again, then the day of imfamy occurred, and it was stalled again. In 1950, a bond proposal was passed, a single test train of new cars that were to run there were delivered to try out, but alas, the rest of the system was in disaray, so the bond money when to fix the existing network, no construction at all, the lone train set, would run for 30 years or so, and be regulated to various lines. Come the 1960s, oh this underground railroad, was again the talk of the town, this time, it was a bit different, money was allocated, some sections were actually built, but it stopped in the early 1970s due to a financial crisis. So these four sections of tunnel sat unused, unconnected to anything, until a couple of years ago. The whole route cannot be built at once as it is cost prohibitive, however, its been broken into 4 phases, of which the first one is now underway. The first two phases are likely to be completed, the second two, not so much.

I give you the story of the second avenue subway.
(Subway Riding the rails underground, Fri 4 Dec 2009, 1:55, Reply)

My videos
For everyone I finish and post another 3 or so get half completed and abandoned. Some for technical reasons, some because I realise that they are truly shite, and some because I've lost my mojo.

Here's one that's still bugging me:

www.youtube.com/watch?v=4E7yFHXLvUo&fmt=35
( Monty Propps, Fri 4 Dec 2009, 0:55, Reply)

Ongoing.....
I knew I needed a hobby so I started.....

The first day all I did was turn on the light and stare at the empty space - I wasn't sure what I was going to do. I knew I needed water so I brought that in the next day - loads of it. 3rd day was sorting the dry bits out - after all that water it was a nightmare - I couldn't get the edges straight. I realised the light was a bit harsh and the heat from it was baking so I spent the fourth day sorting that out - I was aiming at nice and warm all over but I'm not great at this stuff; some bits were too hot and some too cold and then I ended up with a blackout for half the time (power supply I think) - it would have to do as I was getting tired. 5th day I filled the tanks up with fishes and added a few flying things - some good work but I was running out of ideas at this point.

6th day, I was under the weather and just put the rest of the stuff I had into a sort of self portrait sculpture - made a right mess of it too and had to take some off the first one to make another one - this one looked a bit better.

Anyway, there I am all tired out not entirely happy with what I've done and these 'mini-mes' started asking me what to do and really moaning on about it, but after the last week I was knackered and was like 'whatever, just don't eat the apples'.

Next day i just slept in.

Really must check back on that and see how it's all going.

- God
(prescottsflu infected you at, Fri 4 Dec 2009, 0:26, 1 reply)

spiders, stories and weight loss
i've had many projects go wrong, but this tale is about one that stopped before it started, one that has stalled and one that has, so far, gone spectacularly right.

The Non-Starter
several years ago, i decided to invent something. not just anything, i had a fair idea of what i wanted to create. it was a device for getting spiders out of the bath, perfect for people afraid of spiders, or so i thought. however, after asking some friends, i discovered that people who weren't scared of spiders didn't mind getting them out of the bath themselves, whereas people who were scared would much rather know where the spider is than have it escape from the bath and roam around their homes.
my plans were effectively dashed.

The Staller
for the last 2 years, i've been writing a book. i've done about 7 chapters so far and the people who've seen them have all given very positive reviews, but i just can't seem to find the enthusiasm to finish it. i will one day.

The Success
after a lifetime of being very overweight, i finally decided last year that enough was enough. on june 23rd 2008, weighing in at a massive 29st 13lbs, i had gastric bypass surgery. it was keyhole surgery and the most painless hospital experience i've ever had. as of this tuesday, i weigh 15st 4lbs and the weight is still coming off.
i don't care about not finishing other projects, the important ones get done.
( Smash Monkey lowering the tone of the whole internet, Fri 4 Dec 2009, 0:06, 12 replies)

Project, Start 2010 debt free
Epic fail.
Last weeks meeting with financial advisor resulted in my starting bankruptsy proceedings.
2011 , bring it on :)


Less impressive project fail.
After sleeping on a sofa bed for years I finally get a nice bed.
Several months later the mattress, various bits of wood and bags of screws are still blocking the hallway.
Mind you, the headboard makes a useful towel rail
(insomniac-surfer oh go on then, just this once, Thu 3 Dec 2009, 23:36, 1 reply)

If you're going to fuck it up...
...make sure your fuck-up is so big that your superiors have to conceal it lest their careers are besmirched along with yours.

I was once recruited by a company to take on a £125k / 6 month solo project.

On paper I was well-qualified for the role and had the drive and experience to progress the project to completion. On paper...

Meanwhile back in the real world, I just more or less sat there paralysed with stage fright. So terrified of making a bad strategic decision at the outset and being lumbered with a stupid design or faulty plan for the duration of the project, that I made no decisions or plans at all. Truly, the man who makes no mistakes makes nothing!

At the end of six months I'd probably done about two actual week's work and the rest of the time, just fecked around in an aimless, guilty fashion on the interwebs. At home I was losing sleep and stressing like a loon, drinking heavily and driving my partner first nuts and finally away, out of my life.

For some unknown, inexplicable reason it was decided to pump another £25k / 1 month into my project to kind of finish it off nicely, smooth off all the rough edges... At the time it seemed like a plot to drive me to resignation and/or suicide.

And then the project ended and I was moved on to other work, work which was managed by someone other than myself. I started to perform quite well and was a lot happier.

The work I'd done for the solo project was never spoken of again, or if it was, it was talked about in the abstract, in very vague terms and a way was always found so that it was never quite applicable to any current project so, obviously, there'd be no point in digging into the files and resurrecting it for enhancement.

At work I only ever confided in one close workmate - he was as depressed, stressed and unhappy as me, but for other reasons. I told him about this puzzling psuedo-acceptance of what I'd done or rather, not done. He told me about a concept in Japanese culture - I can't remember the word or phrase for it after all this time, but it was a kind of "accepted truth". It might not bear much simliarity to reality, but to the group who shared this vision of how things were, it was the simple, literal truth and strenous efforts would be made to nurture and protect this worldview.
(apologies_for_length, Thu 3 Dec 2009, 23:06, 1 reply)

My cunning plan.
By jove, I thought. I have an idea that'll make millions. This was a master man of gargantuan proportions, but it would require months of dedication. So in a fit of enthusiasm I snorted a line of white pepper, shat in a see through plastic bag, threw it over my shoulder for good luck and set off in search of the required paraphernalia to undertake my project.

I lived in a fairly built up area so it wasn't long before I spied exactly what I wanted. The flashing lights of the road works signs guiding the way and I was like a retarded moth at an Alabama strobe light convention. Drawn closer and fixated by the lights I failed to successfully negotiate the rotting dog corpse afoot. My foot fully penetrated it's soft underbelly and I could instantly feel the stomach acids burning the skin of the fungal infection between my toes. My sandal caught the underside of the ribcage as I took my next step, but I managed to shake it free as I stumbled towards the object of my affections.

With my foot still dripping in a mixture of bile, shit and blood I finally had the precious in my hands. This was only the start and I knew it would be a beautiful journey. I turned on my heel and with a skip in my step started homewards. Overcome with the emotions of what lay ahead I started to run and with one fluid poetic motion kicked the dogs head clean off as I darted off into the night.

Over the following days I eased into my training regime. It was slow and painful at first, but I soon got into a rhythm.At the end of every session I would check myself in the mirror and it wouldn't be stretching the truth to say I was pleased with my progress. Days became weeks.Weeks become more weeks which when using the Gregorian calendar in a fashion familiar to most people then equate to months. If you combine 12 of said months you get a year, however this story spans only 7 months. Or roughly just over 18 million seconds, however I find stories told using seconds as the base unit rather tedious to say the least.

So finally the day of reckoning arrived. I was ready to unleash my project on the world. I switched on the computer and quickly logged onto rotten.com...but wait...what's this!!! Someone has stolen my idea!! Fucksocks!! I could feel the wet dribble of piss running down my legs in rage. Months and months of planning only to be pipped at the post by some rank amateur. Seething I slowly backed away from the computer. My project in tatters and my trajectory in life tilted off it's orbit by the wanton selfishness of one Mr Goatse. Cunt!
(The Archduke of South London I'm in your Girlfriend eating her organs, Thu 3 Dec 2009, 23:04, Reply)

bearing in mind
i'm sitting in bed in a small apartment, on my own, at 11pm on a thursday, posting on the internet i'd say my plans for riches, fame and / or world domination definately went wrong some time around 1987
(Halfy By light alone, Thu 3 Dec 2009, 23:03, 2 replies)

Warhammer
I like a bit of the old toysoldier pushing that is tabletop wargaming. I can say this confortably despite the collosal nerdiness of it, because you're all far far worse than me. Anyway, i love the modelling and painting side of things, and start endless projects that never get finished. I've spent countless thousands of £'s over the last 20 years... and currently have no more than about 30-40 finished models.

Anyone ever involved in any similar hobby can probably empathise. I've just tons and tons of plastic and pewter crap everywhere, all useless and building up year by year. A massive graveyard of failed projects. Fuck hobbies, fuck em in the ass.
( Shiodome has realised numbers in names aren't cool., Thu 3 Dec 2009, 23:03, 7 replies)

perhaps a future failure?
after being bitten by a cycling bug last summer and some great days spent riding i am getting myself another bike but this time i am building it from the frame up

so far i have spent £260 and i only have the frame and the fork, my girlfriend thinks im mad because i already own 2 bikes but after a summer spent riding cross country i want to try my hand at dirt jumping and 4x

i am looking forward to getting my new bike built (from bits bought monthly like one of those rip off magazines) but there is a little voice at the back of my head saying it will all end in tears

then again if it all works out maybe i will sort myself out bike for a bit of downhill and freeride next
( Reme Philips laid an epic dump on, Thu 3 Dec 2009, 22:52, 1 reply)

Motorbikes, what could possibly go wrong
I was at college as a tiny 17yr old and decided I'd quite like to learn how to ride a motorbike so I could fly down country roads ridiculously quickly to get nowhere in particular. There is one problem with learning to ride bikes however, it is astranomically expensive.
I decided to forego the expensive and surely unnecessary training involved and get straight to it on my friends raised up (why?) 600cc Bandit. Barely reaching the floor with my little legs I stalled the bugger. Oh well, take the piss takes, restart it and put a little (read FUCKING HUMONGOUS) amount of throttle on.
Oh dear. The bike shot forwards, front wheel came up. Bike hit the first car, I hit the second and somehow the bike also hit the third car.
All in all, £3,500 later. I'm still mates with the owner of the bike and perhaps slightly more sensible. It turns out there is a reason you should take lessons. Who knew?
(MoFlo, Thu 3 Dec 2009, 21:16, 5 replies)

The swiffer!
Does anybody remember those handy telescopic mops, the swiffer! They were the type of labour saving clean devices that mums who generally think shopping at iceland is a good idea.
secretwave101.files.wordpress.com/2009/04/swif.jpg
Well myself and my good chum T (he enjoys stealing from b3ta so he may read this) found that the swiffer mop could be used in such a manor as a type of extreme sport. Basically standing on it jumping,spinning the thing round and then in a guffawing teenage manor, calming that the random flailing in some way related to a well known skateboarding trick "I just did a pop shove it".
Well me being a dab handed young man thought "this could do with wheels!". So we tried attaching skateboard trucks to this thing with no avail!
So one wet midsummers day I set about making a purpose built extreme swiffer! Gnarly! I thought! A few hours later I appear from my fathers garage with this ugly contraption. A short piece of yorkshire boarding with skateboard trucks attached and a staircase spell for a handle!
Needless to say the thing looked like a steaming pile of Scunthorpe. Was impossible and extremally dangerous to use, with it having a solid piece of wood pointing squarely at your chin. And on T's second go on it feel unceremoniously fell to pieces.
Unfortunately Extreme swiffering was taken up as an event at the X games. So me and T moved on to the next stupid project/plan a wasted youth, someone should have told us there was women out there!

My first post! How was it for you? I wanted to post one about a zip line but someone beat me to it!
(burkyman, Thu 3 Dec 2009, 21:03, Reply)

Meat
When I was a wee(er) lad of 20 I used to work for a design agency doing websites, animations and other interwebs geekery.

I had a great boss who used to give me the odd £20 whenever I was going out, I got to play with interwebs stuff like Pee-Heitch-Pee and I got to work with some awesome clients.

Ok, I was earning fuck all and a sizable chunk of that went to Northern-Cunting-Rail just to get to work every day, but it was still a great job.

However, about 3 months before I left things took on a sour note.

My boss had recently gotten divorced from his screamey ham-beast wife and as a result we were going on work nights out a lot more.

One night, whilst having a cigarette outside some godawful Weatherspoons, we bump into the Joker. I swear Heath Ledger must have met this man and based his Joker on him; he looked like him (minus the makeup and scars), talked like him and he even had the same giggle.

The Joker rambled on and fucking on about how he's going to get rich, revealing that he was a pornographer and had been looking for people to make him a website for ages but no one would; "Everyones such a fucking prude, I've got no shortage of meat but fucking techies!?". Lovely guy.

Eventually, after all the promises of obscene amounts of cash and more exploited single mums than a man could pork in a lifetime, my boss's eyes glaze over and he agrees to work for him. Most of the people left quite early that night; probably to give themselves plenty of time to cry themselves to sleep.

The Joker turned out to be an even more lovely person in meetings than in the ratshit-infested toilet known as Weatherspoons. He turned up to meetings so drunk that he could barely stand up, you would hear loud snorting noises emminating from the toilet whenever he went and everything he said just made my skin crawl.

His big idea was to make a standard webcam porn site, only with a ton of extra stuff like topless roulette. There was also a lot of talk about the "meat" being able to just log in to the site and start performing straight away. There were a ton of technical problems but there were also legal problems.

Because of various gambling laws and tax laws it turns out its actually quite important as to where you base your porn/gambling empire. However the Joker wouldn't hire a solicitor to deal with those... no it fell down to muggins here. So I ended up spending the next week reading horrible legal speak that I couldn't understand no matter how much I tried.

Eventually, we somehow settled on the Isle of Man, as the Joker's dad lived there and the taxes were really cheap. He was going to start the business in his dad's name. I assumed this wasn't so much because he lived on the Isle of Man and more an insurance policy; if something did go horribly wrong the police go after him first and give the Joker ample time to flee the country.

So, vague plan of action defined, it was time to get cracking. Despite having literally zero motivation, I eventually managed to knock together a demo using Flash and a couple of webcams and he LOVED it. So much so that he actively started trying to headhunt me. Lucky. Fucking. Me.

This made my last few weeks at work just AWFUL. I was finding it hard enough to work as it was (I was counting down the days until I left at this point), but I also had the Joker actively stalking me. Whereever I went he would be sat outside the nearest pub or amusements with a pint in hand slurring job offers at me. This carried on until I finally left.



I saw Joker the last time a few days before I left. It turns out, that was also the last time anyone else saw him. As a result the project collapsed, we didn't get anywhere near finishing it and we didn't get paid...

..But oh wait! Turns out my Boss wisely made him pay a deposit of £5k before we'd even agree to work with him!

Naturally, I got a kickass leaving present! I got a fantastic USB Guitar and Bass Amp! I think everyone here agrees that is totally worth the deep-seated psychological scars! :D
(BoneIdol, Thu 3 Dec 2009, 20:33, 1 reply)

Cola Fizzers
You all know this one I'm sure:

1 glass of cola + 1 sweet = really fizzy, sweet cola and a lot of mess.

Using this logic, my brother deduced:

1 bottle of cola + 500 penny sweets= amazingly fizzy cola in a convenient bottle for future consumption!

In reality...? It made a thick, petrol like brown paste with colourless chewy bits in it, and no fizz at all. My mum told him that since he'd spent all that money on it he had to drink it. Apparently it was disgusting in taste, texture... and after drinking half of it he ran around the living room completely caffeinated and then threw up.
(Sivvus trolley collision in the fruit aisle led to a jam, Thu 3 Dec 2009, 20:25, 3 replies)

I was 4. He was 5. Don't judge us.
One day, little Sivvus woke up very early and fancied banana custard for breakfast. Her big brother was awake too, and said, "Okay! There are bananas!"

Little Sivvus and her brother went into the kitchen and cut up the bananas using a blunt knife, because mummy would be very angry if they used a sharp knife! After the bananas were all cut up, little Sivvus asked her brother, "How do we make custard?"

"I've seen mummy do it. I think she uses this." Her brother said, taking down a tub of cornflower. They emptied the cornflower into a mixing bowl and added 4 liters of milk and stirred it, and stirred it, until it was slightly less lumpy.

"Isn't it supposed to be yellow?" Little Sivvus wondered, tasting the gloop. Her brother nodded. "What's yellow?"

Little Sivvus thought for a while. "Why don't you pee in it, then it'd be yellow!" She said.

Twenty minutes later mummy came downstairs. There was a yellow bowlful of cornflower paste on the table, handprints everywhere, and a nasty smell. The children were nowhere to be seen.

And that, boys and girls, is why Sivvus doesn't make custard.
(Sivvus trolley collision in the fruit aisle led to a jam, Thu 3 Dec 2009, 19:17, 5 replies)

I started a fantastic project to build a robot to serve all my needs.
It all started about 9 years ago - I was living on my own and wanted something to deal with the mundane, everyday things so that I could spend my time partying and getting into japes with friends and alcohol. Being an inventive sort of chap I realised that, as it was now the 21st century, it should be possible to create something that would take some of the pressure of running a house out of my life.

The first step, as ever, was to work out what I wanted it to do and what it would look like. It had to be efficient and required little maintenance (after all, I wanted to be out a lot more!) but also something good to look at in case my friends or family saw it. I decided that it would be impossible to get it to do ALL the jobs so I limited it to sorting the washing out, hoovering and general entertainment. I also wanted it to look a little feminine, cos I'm a bit freaky like that. You too, right? Good.

I started to look around for the things I needed and soon found a chassis upon which to start my work. It took several weeks of hard work and late nights before I decided that it was perfect for my needs and it was going to stay with me as the basis of my development program, My friends and family were all really keen so far, so that was good, and lent their full approval. She was called Emma and she looked great!

I had the usual messages from everybody as you'd expect - congratulations on your marriage, etc - and the project went on! Programming could begin in earnest!

At first, everything went well - the commands went in and the robot did pretty much as it was told - although it never seemed to be able to lift anything heavy and wouldn't work at all if it was raining. Now don't get me wrong! I'd never leave it out in the rain, but I wasn't going to carry it to the car to take it out! I couldn't get around the problem for ages so in the end I just got a large padded jacket for it and that did the trick. I'd work on the problem properly later.

The development went on - I won't bore you with all of it!

After a couple of years of routinely doing the odd jobs it was entrusted with, the robot started acting up. I kind of expected it as I'd neglected it a bit as I was going out to friends houses etc. A long weekend servicing it did the trick, though.

The servicing seemed to have been forgotten after a few weeks! Aaaarrgh!! Nothing I could do could make it do as I wanted. I tried pushing buttons, throwing things, shouting at it - all to no avail. It would just sit there, making whining noises and not getting the work done. I thought about powering it down completely but chickened out in case it didn't come back on or lost all of its programs. I tried everything I could think of, but with only occasional success.

I must admit that at about this time I admitted defeat and lost interest in the project. I thought when I started I could take on the world with my project at my side, but it wasn't to be. What was supposed to make my life happier and more bearable just made me angry and frustrated. In the end, I just went out more and left the robot sat in the corner of the lounge. It was still very nice to look at.

So that's my epic failure - 9 years on and I've got to do my own washing, own cleaning and hoovering. And, to add insult to injury, she's divorcing me!
(downhill without brakes . It was the worst day of my life, Thu 3 Dec 2009, 18:42, Reply)

In about 2003
I promised a mates dad a website for his business. I have a notepad file with about four lines of HTML on it on a zip disk* somewhere.

*does anyone else remember these?
( willenium Fist bump for verification, Thu 3 Dec 2009, 18:28, 5 replies)

failed projects
Oh man, where do I start? pretty much everything I touch these days is doomed to failure.

Take the latest..... I can drive an excavator - I can do it pretty well, certainly well enough to be in demand for doing odd jobs whenever people need holes dug. However, this involves hiring a machine, which costs a lot. My great plan was to buy my own digger - it would be a usefull thing to have around the farm, and I could make loads of money working for other folks on weekends.
So, at the start of summer we had a stash money set aside to put towards re-roofing the house as the roof leaks like buggery in heavy rain. I dipped into this and bought a 5 ton excavator. According to my calclations, I would have paid it off within 3 months and would be well into profit before the onset of winter, boosting the roof funds.
In reality, the engine died during my first job with it. Unable to afford the frankly frightening repair costs, I spent several weeks fannying about with a welder, some bits of steel and a diesel engine from a crashed car, trying to transplant a completely different engine into the digger. This proved to be a mini project failure wthin the overall digger project, as I could never get over a few niggles with the installation.
Now winter is here, the digger sits at the end of the yard in a slowly expanding pool of leaking hydraulic oil, completely unuseable and the house roof has not been repaired. The daily routine of emptying the buckets in each room that catch the drips is a nice reminder of the complete waste of time and money this fucking digger was.
(dave likes cheese, Thu 3 Dec 2009, 18:26, Reply)

I wasn't born with a silver spoon in my mouth, but still with a pretty damn good background
I got sent to a nice school, and got expelled, went to McShitteron Polyversity, and I failed to get a degree, and I've spent most of my life bumping along the bottom. It's only now that I've really found any niche, and that may well involve my having to aspire to middle-management.

Still - I'm told I'm fun to be with, and every single one of my friends is a genuinely ace human being with whom I always feel flattered and excited to be able to spend time, while Mrs Vagabond is prettier than sunrise, kinder than Jesus, more patient than a sniper and harder than your dad after he's been drinking, and she's been with me for 11 years so I must be doing something right.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Thu 3 Dec 2009, 18:04, 2 replies)

Major project in Belgium in the early '90s.
Flagship joint venture between a bank and the company I worked for would have "revolutionised" the banking industry in Europe. Millions sunk on it.

We passed the first major delivery milestone and had even won some new investment from another key IT player in Europe. After 18 months of hard graft helping to get things to this point, I went on holiday for a couple of weeks to recharge the batteries.

I came back to find they'd shut the bloody project down and everyone from my company had left. I was put in charge of "handing over" the work we'd done so far to a very unhappy set of bank staff.

Lot of fun, that one.
( argyleblanket The man on the roof works for me, Thu 3 Dec 2009, 17:59, Reply)

Database server upgrade for major client circa 1998
Arrange database downtime for entire weekend at much client annoyance - Check
Off-site client’s huge 19” rack mounted Compaq to workshop - Check
New CPU’s, RAM and HDD’s - Check
3 senior tech engineers in work first thing on Saturday to perform upgrade - Check
Anyone bother to get the admin password from the client - Errrr, shit.

Upgrade fail. Customer lost - Check
( g_j_p, Thu 3 Dec 2009, 17:41, 1 reply)

Zip-line
Weeks and weeks of planning. Days of drawing up plans and finding a likely venue. Hours and hours of hard labour.

Yes - when I was in the Scouts we designed and built a zip-line, fashioned from a couple of felled trees and a very, very long piece of rope.

The intended result:
A likely Scout would climb a rope ladder to the top, grab hold of the pulley-arrangement and whizz back to ground level at high speed down the rope.

Actual result:
- The whole contraption collapsing on top of our mini-bus, destroying both completely and utterly TO DEATH
- Greebo leaping 20 feet from the top, straight into a pile of cow shit
- Dozens of Scouts fleeing for their lives whilst crying out for their mothers
- Long, quiet walk home in the dark

Then I took a job in IT and found out how to REALLY fuck things up
( Scaryduck LIKES EGG, Thu 3 Dec 2009, 17:30, 2 replies)

Pretty much
every photoshop I attempt for compo entries on here end up in the recycle bin (and not the 'green' kind either)
(ProfessorNoShoes wishes he was better at Photoshop, Thu 3 Dec 2009, 17:29, 2 replies)

Running machine
The mother of all failed projects - £1000 dust gatherer clogging up our family room for nearly two years - sold it to some fattay in Croydon for £600 having used it about 12 times.

I hate running.
(Scary Ghost, Thu 3 Dec 2009, 17:18, 1 reply)

Every time I think I've found a good WoW guild it dies and disbands. ):

( Bob Todd whee, Thu 3 Dec 2009, 17:14, 10 replies)

Best in Breed.
Twas the summer hols and myself and Mark (a neighbour) are bored with endless football and cricket, the subbuteo and super striker challenges are complete. and there is not a tree left unclimbed.

Bored.

What would cheer us up?

A puppy.

Where can we get one?

Dunno

Why don't we make one?

Brilliant.

With our rudimentary knowledge of biology we knew that two dogs are needed to make others; and that one has to piggy-back the other for the magic to work.

Five minutes later he has a mangy mongrel and I have Mrs Simms Alsation which I volunteered to walk. We tried to get the alsation to mount the mutt but it was not having it. Soooo - I held the alsation whilst Mark lifted the other one into position and rubbed it back and forth.

Result? No puppy - but a half dead mongrel and me nearly losing a pint of blood.

Footnote - it is rumoured that both dogs were female so it wouldn't have worked anyway.
(Tugnut Ex of this parish, Thu 3 Dec 2009, 17:05, 1 reply)

HOW TO CATCH 'GAY'
Back in 1988 when I was thirteen I had one overriding goal in life. Granted, I set this goal to one side for a brief period while I attempted to come up with a convincing way to make myself appear older so I could get in to see this new movie everyone was raging about called Die Hard, but after being told to: “Fuck off!” on four separate occasions by the duty manager at my local Odeon, I turned my attention back to my original plan.

It might sound a bit petty, a little stupid, not something worthy of a plan at all… but, well, here goes…

I wanted to know what it felt like to put my cock in someone’s mouth.

First port of call: the ladies (well, the pubescent girlies who lived round my way – I went to an all boys school at the time so unless I fancied acquainting myself with Strange Dave who used to decorate his Puma bag with little tip-exed on flowers and talk about how fucking marvelous Oscar fucking Wilde was all day fucking long, my chances of getting head at school were zero). It took me the best part of a month to realize the girlies were a non-starter. Apparently they’d rather listen to Bros, read Smash Hits, and gush over Jason-fucking-Donovan than entertain the thought of putting my wee-wee in their smile slot. I even tried it on with a few of the older women (we’re talking fifteen and sixteen year olds). I must’ve been told to fuck off more often than a Durex salesman at a Roman Catholic convention for nymphomaniacs with a penchant for the genuine cream pie feel in their gusset areas.

So I had to come up with another plan, another way to feel the warmth, the moist heat of another human beings mouth round my bell end. Then, sitting round in my room one night staring down at my hard as oak and aching cock, something occurred to me. Something my dad said once: “If you want something done, son, you’ve gotta do it yourself…”

Well… worth a (cum)shot, I suppose…

I stripped naked, stared down at my eager little frozen prawn, bobbing up and down and doing a little dance like a smaller, pinker MC Hammer, and deliberated how the fuck I was going to get the damn thing inside my gob. The answer? With great fucking difficulty, that’s how. I started by moving a book case to one side so I had a bit of uncluttered wall, then I sort of did a forward roll handstand thing so my head was on the floor and my cock was dangling down above me, and then using the wall as a brace for my back, I – ever so slowly – inched my feet along the carpet. Bit by bit. Little by little. I could feel weird things going on in my insides, felt like my kidneys were popping and my spin was rupturing, but I kept going. And then – and then… sticking out my tongue as much as I could… I… I…

… I licked my japs eye.

And then I instantly shot a hot wad of spunk over my own face, hair, and into my mouth. It felt like I was being attacked by the salty version of the face hugger out of Alien.

The shock of this made me loose what little concentration I had, I rolled to one side, twatted my bare arse on the bookcase which tipped over with a crash and pinned me to the floor. Momentarily, It was like a scene from a weird cross over gay porn disaster movie as I lay there sobbing, covered in gloopy manfat.

Pain? No, I wasn’t in pain, well, no more than a slightly dyspraxic tosspot teenager can take during the course of a normal day bumping into shit. No, I was – for one of the few moments in my life - actually disgusted with myself. I’d just tasted semen. Hot semen. Straight from the bottle. After I’d clambered out from under the bookcase and used an old sock to clean the sticky cock cream off myself, I looked in the mirror and thought: ‘You dirty, dirty, dirty boy…’

And I spent the next week or so wondering if I’d somehow managed to catch gay. Thankfully, I hadn’t caught gay.* But I did start hanging out a lot more with Strange Dave at school after this. But that was probably just a coincidence.

*Not that that’s a problem. Whatever floats yer boat, but the thought of ramming my cock up another fellas hairy ringpiece, well, its just not for me. A bit like tapas.
( SpankyHanky, Thu 3 Dec 2009, 17:04, 10 replies)

Marriage
Sounded like a good idea at the time.

Oops.
(Medical_Male Say aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah, Thu 3 Dec 2009, 16:54, 6 replies)

Which one to choose?
The two classic motorbikes I said I'd have 'done' (eight years and counting one the first one! Yay!)? The 'wooden toy' I said I'd make my (then) unborn niece which is still a single large piece of wood in my shed three years later? The numerous Warhammer armies (one of which is over 400 figures in size - approximately 50 of which are anything more than undercoated)? The bed which is still on three of its original four casters that I said I'd replace when it broke two years ago? The bedroom in my house which haven't even seen a paintbrush since I moved here just on four years ago? The door I said I'd plane for my girlfriend's mother three days ago (which was to be done on the day)? The short stories and numerous comics?

Nah, too many. I'll blame the recession and/or the French.
( Funkenschlag still likes dogs more than cats, Thu 3 Dec 2009, 16:42, Reply)

We just didn't think it through...
Many years ago I was helping a friend build a nice big garage across the end of his garden.

He had a partially complete LWB Land Rover parked where we were going to build. We tried pushing it but those fuckers weigh a ton, so he suggested he'd get the starter motor wired up and "Just move it up the garden a bit" later that day.

The next morning we arrived to find it 150ft away, right up to his house, with a trail of flattened wendy houses, swings and sand pits in it's wake.

Apparently he'd started it, ground it into gear and set off, only to remember he hadn't connected the brakes. Struggling to get it out of gear, the 4WD behemoth crashed it's way towards his kitchen, much to the shock of his wife washing up at the window at the time.

We laughed about it for a few weeks, until we realized we'd built the garage with no way of getting the Land Rover out of the garden now.
(Kliper Filllets Getting noticed by twats on the internet since, Thu 3 Dec 2009, 16:35, 2 replies)