Profile for Yamon:
none
Recent front page messages:
none
Best answers to questions:
[read all their answers]
- a member for 20 years, 5 months and 22 days
- has posted 1018 messages on the main board
- has posted 20 messages on the talk board
- has posted 51 messages on the links board
- (including 16 links)
- has posted 10 stories and 0 replies on question of the week
- They liked 38 pictures, 41 links, 0 talk posts, and 0 qotw answers.
- Ignore this user
- Add this user as a friend
- send me a message
none
Recent front page messages:
none
Best answers to questions:
» World's Sickest Joke
My turn.
Q. How do you get a goth down from a tree?
A. Cut the rope.
Q. Whats got 4 legs and an arm?
A. A happy pitbull.
The rest have been repeated to death by now so I won't bother with any more.
(Sun 12th Sep 2004, 16:40, More)
My turn.
Q. How do you get a goth down from a tree?
A. Cut the rope.
Q. Whats got 4 legs and an arm?
A. A happy pitbull.
The rest have been repeated to death by now so I won't bother with any more.
(Sun 12th Sep 2004, 16:40, More)
» Panic Buying
A lot of thought went into this....
An old friend and ex-work collegue of mine had a semi idea of what he wanted to give as a gift to a couple of his mates, an idea which between us brainstorming how to make it seem so much more naff, last minute and rushed it has now become the stuff of Legend.
The Present was thus:
1x Inflatable orange armband, (as used by novice swimmers)
Half a block of Lard, (what man in their mid-twenties uses lard to cook anyway?)
1x Disposable plastic glove, (from a garage forecourt)
How's that for a posh wanking kit, eh?
(Sat 24th Dec 2005, 0:48, More)
A lot of thought went into this....
An old friend and ex-work collegue of mine had a semi idea of what he wanted to give as a gift to a couple of his mates, an idea which between us brainstorming how to make it seem so much more naff, last minute and rushed it has now become the stuff of Legend.
The Present was thus:
1x Inflatable orange armband, (as used by novice swimmers)
Half a block of Lard, (what man in their mid-twenties uses lard to cook anyway?)
1x Disposable plastic glove, (from a garage forecourt)
How's that for a posh wanking kit, eh?
(Sat 24th Dec 2005, 0:48, More)
» It's not me, it's the drugs talking
Wrong time for taxidermi
Warped out on several blotters my,(still), very good friend Tim decided to show me his housemates funny rabbit shaped jelly mold.
I lifted the mold up to find a dead baby rabbit underneath it, perfectly done piece of taxidermi, all soft and cuddly, something his housemate had done a few years back.
Freaked the living fuck out of me and it took some serious coaxing by Tim to get me to let go of the ceiling.
(Wed 21st Dec 2005, 0:31, More)
Wrong time for taxidermi
Warped out on several blotters my,(still), very good friend Tim decided to show me his housemates funny rabbit shaped jelly mold.
I lifted the mold up to find a dead baby rabbit underneath it, perfectly done piece of taxidermi, all soft and cuddly, something his housemate had done a few years back.
Freaked the living fuck out of me and it took some serious coaxing by Tim to get me to let go of the ceiling.
(Wed 21st Dec 2005, 0:31, More)
» Now, there was no need for that...
Inappropriate music time folks......
I was working nights a few years back, so after a hard shift at t'mill, I get woken up by a friend I've known for years. He asked me if I could help set up a mobile disco type affair for some,'Lonely Hearts', club evening that the chap he normally did disco's with, (and subsequently the same chap who normally did all of the equipment set up too), was too busy with another gig to do. Long story but I was asked as boxes with wires and cables sticking out the back are my speciality, so go figure. Knackered but always willing to help a friend in need I agreed. Much driving around and equipment borrowing ensued, followed by much lugging of heavy boxes and even more fiddling around with phono cables and adapter plugs.
The evening was to run like this:-
People turn up to polite musical backing
People eat
Guest speaker does his thing, (some awful 70's has-bin)
Disco fires up
People, now a bit drunk and gagging for it, fuck off to the hotel rooms that joined onto the hall all this was taking place in.
Still with me? Good, good.
First thing that was a bit iffy was the mic lead. It just wasn't long enough to get to where the boring 70's has-been was going to be sitting. No worries thought I, I'll just splice the mic lead up with this other lead to make it a bit longer. Job was done no problem, cable finally reached the boring 70's has-beens seat with a few meters to spare, (thank the gods for gaffa tape). All the while that I'm getting busy with the swiss army knife to do the splice the boring 70's has-been is moaning about this, that and quite a fair bit of the other. Him? Bitter? Nah.
So after getting the dodgy kit, turntables, mixer, mic's and lights finally set up, people start to drift in. Lonely single people start to fill up this place like a small plague, sitting as far apart from each other as they can in such a snug/small environment. By this point I've been on the go for something like 27 hours, I'm tired, dirty and just a bit out of it as the bar staff were plying me with free beer, (not a good idea if you are tired in the first place, as I was later to find out).
So as most of the hard graft had been done, the kit was working as best as shoddy kit could be made to work and as had been previously agreed between my friend and I, I was now released of my obligations to help and could go back home and hopefully make it into my nice, big bed for much horizontal sleep action. My friend, Mr DJ for the night, decides to put some Bob Marley on for the audience as they arrive. What could be wrong with that eh? Everyone likes a bit o' Bob don't they. So with the music gently circling the air I avail myself to the toilets for a much needed slash prior to my taxi arriving to take me home.
I stand at the urinal, dog-tired, a bit tipsy, (but not too much), happy that I've helped a friend, as is often my want, thinking that it's all been a job well done.
Imagine then my horror, as mid-piss I hear the next track on the 'Legends' album being played.
The next track being, "No woman, no cry".
At a lonely heart's club night!
I've never had to piss so quick in my life, as I knew that my friend, (who was enjoying the free bar no end), wouldn't have noticed the error in tracklisting. I ran out, still zipping up and am greeted with the 70's has-been being just a bit cross about the current song. I pelted it around his rotund girth and quickly informed my friend about his erronious choice of tune, who quickly saw the irony and changed tracks to some Mantovani plinky piano stuff instead. It was an accident, a pure and simple mistake to make as everyone likes a bit o' Bob, don't they?
We still chuckle about it to this day. The uncomfortable looks on the male patrons faces was a pure Polaroid moment and one we shall never forget.
My length, is as alway, the stuff of legend.
(Fri 17th Jun 2005, 15:28, More)
Inappropriate music time folks......
I was working nights a few years back, so after a hard shift at t'mill, I get woken up by a friend I've known for years. He asked me if I could help set up a mobile disco type affair for some,'Lonely Hearts', club evening that the chap he normally did disco's with, (and subsequently the same chap who normally did all of the equipment set up too), was too busy with another gig to do. Long story but I was asked as boxes with wires and cables sticking out the back are my speciality, so go figure. Knackered but always willing to help a friend in need I agreed. Much driving around and equipment borrowing ensued, followed by much lugging of heavy boxes and even more fiddling around with phono cables and adapter plugs.
The evening was to run like this:-
People turn up to polite musical backing
People eat
Guest speaker does his thing, (some awful 70's has-bin)
Disco fires up
People, now a bit drunk and gagging for it, fuck off to the hotel rooms that joined onto the hall all this was taking place in.
Still with me? Good, good.
First thing that was a bit iffy was the mic lead. It just wasn't long enough to get to where the boring 70's has-been was going to be sitting. No worries thought I, I'll just splice the mic lead up with this other lead to make it a bit longer. Job was done no problem, cable finally reached the boring 70's has-beens seat with a few meters to spare, (thank the gods for gaffa tape). All the while that I'm getting busy with the swiss army knife to do the splice the boring 70's has-been is moaning about this, that and quite a fair bit of the other. Him? Bitter? Nah.
So after getting the dodgy kit, turntables, mixer, mic's and lights finally set up, people start to drift in. Lonely single people start to fill up this place like a small plague, sitting as far apart from each other as they can in such a snug/small environment. By this point I've been on the go for something like 27 hours, I'm tired, dirty and just a bit out of it as the bar staff were plying me with free beer, (not a good idea if you are tired in the first place, as I was later to find out).
So as most of the hard graft had been done, the kit was working as best as shoddy kit could be made to work and as had been previously agreed between my friend and I, I was now released of my obligations to help and could go back home and hopefully make it into my nice, big bed for much horizontal sleep action. My friend, Mr DJ for the night, decides to put some Bob Marley on for the audience as they arrive. What could be wrong with that eh? Everyone likes a bit o' Bob don't they. So with the music gently circling the air I avail myself to the toilets for a much needed slash prior to my taxi arriving to take me home.
I stand at the urinal, dog-tired, a bit tipsy, (but not too much), happy that I've helped a friend, as is often my want, thinking that it's all been a job well done.
Imagine then my horror, as mid-piss I hear the next track on the 'Legends' album being played.
The next track being, "No woman, no cry".
At a lonely heart's club night!
I've never had to piss so quick in my life, as I knew that my friend, (who was enjoying the free bar no end), wouldn't have noticed the error in tracklisting. I ran out, still zipping up and am greeted with the 70's has-been being just a bit cross about the current song. I pelted it around his rotund girth and quickly informed my friend about his erronious choice of tune, who quickly saw the irony and changed tracks to some Mantovani plinky piano stuff instead. It was an accident, a pure and simple mistake to make as everyone likes a bit o' Bob, don't they?
We still chuckle about it to this day. The uncomfortable looks on the male patrons faces was a pure Polaroid moment and one we shall never forget.
My length, is as alway, the stuff of legend.
(Fri 17th Jun 2005, 15:28, More)
» Insults
Cycling to work many years ago.....
... brave kid of about 9 or there abouts, who knew that the words were naughty but didn't understand the contexts within which they were supposed to be used individually, called me a, "BUGGER FUCK TIT BUM!", then ran off feeling rather smug with his outpouring of offensiveness.
I almost fell off my bike laughing.
My pesonal fave for venting sheer impotent rage at someone is thus:
"Go fuck some shit up your twat you diesel powered cunt rocket!"
Or just resort to calling them a cleft.
A mate in work and I like to trade rubbish insults with each other and one day he had me in stitches after he tried to call me codpiece face but it came out as cock piss face. Oh how we laughed. And then I stabbed him. Hard. In the face. Now who's in stitches, eh?
What a plum!
(Fri 5th Oct 2007, 23:40, More)
Cycling to work many years ago.....
... brave kid of about 9 or there abouts, who knew that the words were naughty but didn't understand the contexts within which they were supposed to be used individually, called me a, "BUGGER FUCK TIT BUM!", then ran off feeling rather smug with his outpouring of offensiveness.
I almost fell off my bike laughing.
My pesonal fave for venting sheer impotent rage at someone is thus:
"Go fuck some shit up your twat you diesel powered cunt rocket!"
Or just resort to calling them a cleft.
A mate in work and I like to trade rubbish insults with each other and one day he had me in stitches after he tried to call me codpiece face but it came out as cock piss face. Oh how we laughed. And then I stabbed him. Hard. In the face. Now who's in stitches, eh?
What a plum!
(Fri 5th Oct 2007, 23:40, More)