Profile for Dr Frank:
Recent front page messages:
Best answers to questions:
- a member for 20 years, 8 months and 16 days
- has posted 1428 messages on the main board
- (of which 26 have appeared on the front page)
- has posted 10 messages on the talk board
- has posted 141 messages on the links board
- (including 26 links)
- has posted 4 stories and 2 replies on question of the week
- They liked 205 pictures, 533 links, 0 talk posts, and 92 qotw answers. [RSS feed]
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Recent front page messages:
Best answers to questions:
» Why I was late
I'd love to share my best excuse...
But the dog ate it.
(Thu 28th Jun 2007, 20:32, More)
I'd love to share my best excuse...
But the dog ate it.
(Thu 28th Jun 2007, 20:32, More)
» And that's the thanks I got
Drunks...
As the original good samaritan I love a lost cause.
On our way home from a movie one night, my ex-wife and I met a little ole lady stumbling from a city bus, shopping trolley in tow... I gallantly dashed forward to help the old dear to the pavement. She grabbed my hand gratefully and looked pleadingly up at me and said... "Can you help me home, I can't walk!"
T'was true, she couldn't walk. This was partly due to the fact that her beltless trousers were residing somewhere around her knees and she was completely rat arsed.
"I'll tell you what," says I. "hang on here and I'll go and fetch my car and give you a lift."
"OK" says she. I pop into a kiosk and ask them to keep an eye on the old woman ouside while I get the car. On hearing this she pipes up...."I'm not a woman, I'm a man. I'm the king of Copenhagen!"
I apologise and set of for home and the wheels. Five minutes later and he's still waiting for the ride, bollocks. Ah well. As I wrestle his shopping trolley into the boot it clinks in an ominous fashion and several unidentifed liquids spill out into the trunk.
I help "The King" into the car and notice an interesting odour. Kind of a musty, yoghurty smell, unpleasant yet strangely intruiging... I also spy something that resembles well padded underwear protruding from the waistline of his strides. I should have twigged...
After 15 minutes of scouring the streets of Copenhagen for a landmark the King could recognise, we finally find his flat. I carry his trolley up four flights of stairs and descend to help him out of the car.
We somehow negotiate the stairs and I leave him fumbling for his keys... Once back in the car, I notice that the smell has not disappeared with its initiator. I turn on the cabin light to be met with the sight of day old, marinated piss seeping gently into the front passenger seat.
Ta.
(Fri 25th May 2007, 1:02, More)
Drunks...
As the original good samaritan I love a lost cause.
On our way home from a movie one night, my ex-wife and I met a little ole lady stumbling from a city bus, shopping trolley in tow... I gallantly dashed forward to help the old dear to the pavement. She grabbed my hand gratefully and looked pleadingly up at me and said... "Can you help me home, I can't walk!"
T'was true, she couldn't walk. This was partly due to the fact that her beltless trousers were residing somewhere around her knees and she was completely rat arsed.
"I'll tell you what," says I. "hang on here and I'll go and fetch my car and give you a lift."
"OK" says she. I pop into a kiosk and ask them to keep an eye on the old woman ouside while I get the car. On hearing this she pipes up...."I'm not a woman, I'm a man. I'm the king of Copenhagen!"
I apologise and set of for home and the wheels. Five minutes later and he's still waiting for the ride, bollocks. Ah well. As I wrestle his shopping trolley into the boot it clinks in an ominous fashion and several unidentifed liquids spill out into the trunk.
I help "The King" into the car and notice an interesting odour. Kind of a musty, yoghurty smell, unpleasant yet strangely intruiging... I also spy something that resembles well padded underwear protruding from the waistline of his strides. I should have twigged...
After 15 minutes of scouring the streets of Copenhagen for a landmark the King could recognise, we finally find his flat. I carry his trolley up four flights of stairs and descend to help him out of the car.
We somehow negotiate the stairs and I leave him fumbling for his keys... Once back in the car, I notice that the smell has not disappeared with its initiator. I turn on the cabin light to be met with the sight of day old, marinated piss seeping gently into the front passenger seat.
Ta.
(Fri 25th May 2007, 1:02, More)
» School Days
Craft lessons
At the tender age of 8 craft lessons consisted of balsa wood sculpture, papier mâché and tissue paper. One fine lesson at the beginning of November we were granted permission to make a Guy. Teacher had laid on the materials all we needed to provide were his garments.
The lesson progressed as we scrunched up the newspaper we needed to fill Guy out. The paper balls were then inserted into numerous pairs of nylon tights and old Fawkes took shape.
Being the class clown, I was constantly on the lookout for something foolish to do, I pulled a pair of tights over my head and looked at my classmates.
"Bleurgh," says I " they smell of Mrs Frape's fanny!"
Unfortunately, form tutor Mrs Frape was stood behind me at the time...
(Tue 3rd Feb 2009, 0:35, More)
Craft lessons
At the tender age of 8 craft lessons consisted of balsa wood sculpture, papier mâché and tissue paper. One fine lesson at the beginning of November we were granted permission to make a Guy. Teacher had laid on the materials all we needed to provide were his garments.
The lesson progressed as we scrunched up the newspaper we needed to fill Guy out. The paper balls were then inserted into numerous pairs of nylon tights and old Fawkes took shape.
Being the class clown, I was constantly on the lookout for something foolish to do, I pulled a pair of tights over my head and looked at my classmates.
"Bleurgh," says I " they smell of Mrs Frape's fanny!"
Unfortunately, form tutor Mrs Frape was stood behind me at the time...
(Tue 3rd Feb 2009, 0:35, More)
» Lies Your Parents Told You
My lie to my younger brother (I was like a father to him)
Poor little Nick, while on holiday in France I convinced him that a ouija board was to be found in French pissoirs. It was basically a heated ledge in front of the urinal on which to place your willy whilst having a pee.
(Wed 14th Jan 2004, 17:49, More)
My lie to my younger brother (I was like a father to him)
Poor little Nick, while on holiday in France I convinced him that a ouija board was to be found in French pissoirs. It was basically a heated ledge in front of the urinal on which to place your willy whilst having a pee.
(Wed 14th Jan 2004, 17:49, More)