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» Foot in Mouth Syndrome
Mr T.'s
Not me, but my girlfriends little brother. As they lived in a little village far away which was only barely connected to the outside world by limited televison broadcasts, my GF's brother had little experience of the multi-cultural nature of modern society. On his first trip to the big city, (Birmingham) the little lad pressed his nose to the train window as he was entering New Street Station and loudly announced - "Mom! MOM! Look at all the Mr T.'s!"... embarrassed silence...
(Wed 21st Apr 2004, 15:51, More)
Mr T.'s
Not me, but my girlfriends little brother. As they lived in a little village far away which was only barely connected to the outside world by limited televison broadcasts, my GF's brother had little experience of the multi-cultural nature of modern society. On his first trip to the big city, (Birmingham) the little lad pressed his nose to the train window as he was entering New Street Station and loudly announced - "Mom! MOM! Look at all the Mr T.'s!"... embarrassed silence...
(Wed 21st Apr 2004, 15:51, More)
» Foot in Mouth Syndrome
Oh how I sh*t myself
This one was horrible.
In the pub I used to work in there were giant builder types who would come in of a lunchtime and stay until their wives threatened divorce. I got on with them quite well, until one day I was having a lairy afternoon in said public house and the topic of conversation got round to a certain fat woman from the brewery who came round every now and again to make our lives hell. After lengthy slagging off period (it's no wonder crisps supplies are down... etc) a voice from the back of us pipes up with - "yeah that's my mate's wife you're talking about." He said that he wouldn't say anything because this bloke would kill us, but it didn't stop me cacking my wack every day - especially at Christmas when he gave me an unusally high tip and bought me a drink. I've seen Goodfellas - I know how these things work...
(Wed 21st Apr 2004, 16:04, More)
Oh how I sh*t myself
This one was horrible.
In the pub I used to work in there were giant builder types who would come in of a lunchtime and stay until their wives threatened divorce. I got on with them quite well, until one day I was having a lairy afternoon in said public house and the topic of conversation got round to a certain fat woman from the brewery who came round every now and again to make our lives hell. After lengthy slagging off period (it's no wonder crisps supplies are down... etc) a voice from the back of us pipes up with - "yeah that's my mate's wife you're talking about." He said that he wouldn't say anything because this bloke would kill us, but it didn't stop me cacking my wack every day - especially at Christmas when he gave me an unusally high tip and bought me a drink. I've seen Goodfellas - I know how these things work...
(Wed 21st Apr 2004, 16:04, More)