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- a member for 20 years, 0 months and 7 days
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- has posted 35 messages on the talk board
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- has posted 27 stories and 3 replies on question of the week
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» Misunderstood
On a school trip to London
I'd managed to claim the back seat of the minibus with my friends.
As we approached the Science Museum, my teacher spotted a reasonably convenient parking space. However, unfamiliar as he was with driving a minibus, he struggled to cope with the size of the vehicle, the reduced visbility and the weight of the steering at low speeds.
After a couple of aborted attempts to maneuver into the space I can only assume he was starting to lose patience and had decided to try a variation of the courier driver's trick for quick parallel parking.
Now the courier's trick is to drive forward into a space at a sharp angle and when the nearside front wheel has gone up onto the pavement turn the steering wheel quickly so that the vehicle straightens out into the space, with the wheel dropping back onto the street.
My teacher decided to try this technique, but instead chose to reverse into the space. As this would result in one of the rear wheels going up onto the pavement and since rear visiblity was so restricted he called out for assistance:
"Someone look out the back and tell me if there's anything in the way."
I dutifully looked out of the rear window and responded:
"There's a couple of meters behind us."
I can only guess that my teacher was glowing with pride that one of his pupils had so readily embraced metrification as he reversed and, as the rear wheel mounted the pavement, came to an abrupt halt as the back of the bus struck the two parking meters that I had been trying to warn him about.
Much hilarity ensued over his misunderstanding of the difference between two metres and two meters!
(Sun 9th Oct 2005, 10:30, More)
On a school trip to London
I'd managed to claim the back seat of the minibus with my friends.
As we approached the Science Museum, my teacher spotted a reasonably convenient parking space. However, unfamiliar as he was with driving a minibus, he struggled to cope with the size of the vehicle, the reduced visbility and the weight of the steering at low speeds.
After a couple of aborted attempts to maneuver into the space I can only assume he was starting to lose patience and had decided to try a variation of the courier driver's trick for quick parallel parking.
Now the courier's trick is to drive forward into a space at a sharp angle and when the nearside front wheel has gone up onto the pavement turn the steering wheel quickly so that the vehicle straightens out into the space, with the wheel dropping back onto the street.
My teacher decided to try this technique, but instead chose to reverse into the space. As this would result in one of the rear wheels going up onto the pavement and since rear visiblity was so restricted he called out for assistance:
"Someone look out the back and tell me if there's anything in the way."
I dutifully looked out of the rear window and responded:
"There's a couple of meters behind us."
I can only guess that my teacher was glowing with pride that one of his pupils had so readily embraced metrification as he reversed and, as the rear wheel mounted the pavement, came to an abrupt halt as the back of the bus struck the two parking meters that I had been trying to warn him about.
Much hilarity ensued over his misunderstanding of the difference between two metres and two meters!
(Sun 9th Oct 2005, 10:30, More)
» Too much information
How NOT to discover infidelity
I was originally going to tell how a friend of mine at Uni, let's call him DD, once told the story of how the ceiling of his room became stained.
We were in our college bar just passing the time, discussing the tedious stuff we'd been up to the night before, when he chipped in with the following. With her sat with us, as well as a couple of people he'd not met before and the token Christian virgin, he explained in great detail how he'd been shagging his GF, her on top, facing away from him (I mentioned the detail, didn't I?). She was bouncing up and down, more and more enthusiastically, when suddenly she slipped off. Just at the moment of climax. So, he claimed, his ejaculate hit the ceiling and then dripped down onto his face. Eyes open, mouth open.
He then turned to his GF, gave her a tenner and asked her to get a round in (this wasn't unusual - she was so fit she always got served quickest). Whilst she was at the bar, he added a footnote to his story.
"Don't tell (GF) I told you, but I was fucking her arse!"
However, bringing that story to mind also reminded me of an earlier tale of his. Again, we're in the college bar (this was a bit of a theme of my university career). Again, DD is at a table of relative strangers, including a gorgeous girl who later became the GF of the story above. This, however, was the story of how he'd discovered that his girlfriend from back home in Hull had been unfaithful to him. He’d gone to visit her that weekend – not unannounced, oh no, they’d arranged it weeks previously because it was her birthday.
He told us how he’d met up with her straight after she’d finished work. They’d had a few drinks with some of her work colleagues before going back to her place to make up for lost time.
Because it was her birthday he decided he’d warm her up by going down on her first. After much licking and fingering of her clitoris and vagina, she climaxed. Her muscles spasmed, she arched her back, she cried out in ecstasy. A thin stream of spunk trickled out of her cunt.
Apparently her boss had given her a birthday present, too.
(Tue 11th Sep 2007, 17:27, More)
How NOT to discover infidelity
I was originally going to tell how a friend of mine at Uni, let's call him DD, once told the story of how the ceiling of his room became stained.
We were in our college bar just passing the time, discussing the tedious stuff we'd been up to the night before, when he chipped in with the following. With her sat with us, as well as a couple of people he'd not met before and the token Christian virgin, he explained in great detail how he'd been shagging his GF, her on top, facing away from him (I mentioned the detail, didn't I?). She was bouncing up and down, more and more enthusiastically, when suddenly she slipped off. Just at the moment of climax. So, he claimed, his ejaculate hit the ceiling and then dripped down onto his face. Eyes open, mouth open.
He then turned to his GF, gave her a tenner and asked her to get a round in (this wasn't unusual - she was so fit she always got served quickest). Whilst she was at the bar, he added a footnote to his story.
"Don't tell (GF) I told you, but I was fucking her arse!"
However, bringing that story to mind also reminded me of an earlier tale of his. Again, we're in the college bar (this was a bit of a theme of my university career). Again, DD is at a table of relative strangers, including a gorgeous girl who later became the GF of the story above. This, however, was the story of how he'd discovered that his girlfriend from back home in Hull had been unfaithful to him. He’d gone to visit her that weekend – not unannounced, oh no, they’d arranged it weeks previously because it was her birthday.
He told us how he’d met up with her straight after she’d finished work. They’d had a few drinks with some of her work colleagues before going back to her place to make up for lost time.
Because it was her birthday he decided he’d warm her up by going down on her first. After much licking and fingering of her clitoris and vagina, she climaxed. Her muscles spasmed, she arched her back, she cried out in ecstasy. A thin stream of spunk trickled out of her cunt.
Apparently her boss had given her a birthday present, too.
(Tue 11th Sep 2007, 17:27, More)
» On the stage
When I was in my school play
I ran on stage, couldn't see the audience because of the lights, I was so nervous I shouted my lines then pissed myself with fright in front of the whole school, parents and teachers included and ran off crying.
Oh the shame!
[edit]Fucksocks, the QotW has finally changed![/edit]
When I was in primary school, the nativity play was very inclusive – you were involved onstage, whether you wished to be or not.
Needless to say, all parents wanted their children to be one of the principles – Mary, Joseph, a Magus or failing that a shepherd.
My friends and I, on the other hand, wished to have absolutely no involvement at all. Unfortunately, when one was cast as a shepherd thanks to particularly pushy parents, the rest of us were also.
Our disappointment at being on stage, however, was short-lived when we discovered during rehearsals how much fun it was!
Following the star to Bethlehem was a slapstick procession of tripping each other with our crooks.
Gazing in speechless adoration at the baby Christ became plucking him from the crib, against all instructions to the contrary, andpassing flinging him amongst us with comments likes “Blimey, what’s wrong with his hands?”.
Yes, it was childish but then we were, after all, children.
Finally, only two nights before the main event, the director had had enough and we were hastily recast in roles that were restricted to a brief jog across the stage.
We were to be Herod’s soldiers during the massacre of the innocents.
To this day, I really can’t understand how our director could have been so naïve, so optimistic. We were, after all, children.
So, come the big night, the stage is set, our moment has come and, dressed in legionnaires uniforms and clutching our plastic swords, we formed up and, accompanied by a soundtrack of wailing, we trotted across the stage.
Half way across, we stopped to enact our revised and more realistic scene. We whipped out the dolls that we had secreted about ourselves and ripped them to pieces, tossing limbs, torsos and heads into the audience and spraying stage blood in every direction.
Needless to say, despite being in the best traditions of the theatre, our improvisation was appreciated not by our head teacher, nor the director nor even the audience members who were struck with bloodied bits of baby.
The following year, the scene had been cut and we weren’t even allowed in the auditorium.
(Fri 2nd Dec 2005, 11:55, More)
When I was in my school play
I ran on stage, couldn't see the audience because of the lights, I was so nervous I shouted my lines then pissed myself with fright in front of the whole school, parents and teachers included and ran off crying.
Oh the shame!
[edit]Fucksocks, the QotW has finally changed![/edit]
When I was in primary school, the nativity play was very inclusive – you were involved onstage, whether you wished to be or not.
Needless to say, all parents wanted their children to be one of the principles – Mary, Joseph, a Magus or failing that a shepherd.
My friends and I, on the other hand, wished to have absolutely no involvement at all. Unfortunately, when one was cast as a shepherd thanks to particularly pushy parents, the rest of us were also.
Our disappointment at being on stage, however, was short-lived when we discovered during rehearsals how much fun it was!
Following the star to Bethlehem was a slapstick procession of tripping each other with our crooks.
Gazing in speechless adoration at the baby Christ became plucking him from the crib, against all instructions to the contrary, and
Yes, it was childish but then we were, after all, children.
Finally, only two nights before the main event, the director had had enough and we were hastily recast in roles that were restricted to a brief jog across the stage.
We were to be Herod’s soldiers during the massacre of the innocents.
To this day, I really can’t understand how our director could have been so naïve, so optimistic. We were, after all, children.
So, come the big night, the stage is set, our moment has come and, dressed in legionnaires uniforms and clutching our plastic swords, we formed up and, accompanied by a soundtrack of wailing, we trotted across the stage.
Half way across, we stopped to enact our revised and more realistic scene. We whipped out the dolls that we had secreted about ourselves and ripped them to pieces, tossing limbs, torsos and heads into the audience and spraying stage blood in every direction.
Needless to say, despite being in the best traditions of the theatre, our improvisation was appreciated not by our head teacher, nor the director nor even the audience members who were struck with bloodied bits of baby.
The following year, the scene had been cut and we weren’t even allowed in the auditorium.
(Fri 2nd Dec 2005, 11:55, More)
» The Onosecond
Advanced warning
I once texted my girlfriend a romantic message letting her know how much and how deeply I cared for her and *ahem* how much and how deeply I was going to demonstrate such affection the next time we met.
When she received the message, my girlfriend was very appreciative of my sentiments but a bit surprised by the text as we had been living together for 9 years and she was in the next room at the time. She was also a bit puzzled by one strange word used right at the start of the message, which I explained as a predictive text misunderstanding.
Much to her disappointment, she later discovered that the message had been intended not for her but for the new-and-improved model that I was replacing her with, for whom the strange word was my pet name.
(Thu 26th May 2005, 11:12, More)
Advanced warning
I once texted my girlfriend a romantic message letting her know how much and how deeply I cared for her and *ahem* how much and how deeply I was going to demonstrate such affection the next time we met.
When she received the message, my girlfriend was very appreciative of my sentiments but a bit surprised by the text as we had been living together for 9 years and she was in the next room at the time. She was also a bit puzzled by one strange word used right at the start of the message, which I explained as a predictive text misunderstanding.
Much to her disappointment, she later discovered that the message had been intended not for her but for the new-and-improved model that I was replacing her with, for whom the strange word was my pet name.
(Thu 26th May 2005, 11:12, More)
» Petty Sabotage
Mark this
One of my maths teachers (Slow Joe) used a different coloured marker for writing on the whiteboard depending on context, something like:-
Black - question
Blue - working
Green - answer
Brown - theory/hypotheses
Red - proof
I once got to class early, no-one around, and decided to have a little fun. Yawn, you say, swapping the caps is hardly imaginative. But I didn't, no, I unscrewed the nibs and swapped the bases - the cap and nib were one colour but the ink in the reservoir was another.
Lesson starts, he picks up the black marker and starts writing - black at first, gradually getting lighter and ending up brown. Blue goes purple then red. And so does my maths teacher. He goes abolutely mucking fental.
I eventually had to own up to avoid getting a friend in trouble but when I reported for punishment my housemaster was too busy trying not to cry with laughter to bother, Slow Joe being as popular in the staffroom as he was in the classroom.
We also once tried the watercress-on-the-carpet trick at Uni, but it didn't sprout it just rotted so when the guy got back after a weekend at his parents, his room smelt so bad even after the carpet was taken up and dumped that he was re-housed and his room was boarded up and never used again (the whole house was condemned anyway).
Presumably this QotW will be won by Rossi and Parfitt for revealing that they superglued the Titanic's rudder, removed the "No smoking" signs on the Hindenberg and cut the cables marked "Tsunami Early Warning System' during their recent tour of Indonesia.
(Fri 6th May 2005, 17:15, More)
Mark this
One of my maths teachers (Slow Joe) used a different coloured marker for writing on the whiteboard depending on context, something like:-
Black - question
Blue - working
Green - answer
Brown - theory/hypotheses
Red - proof
I once got to class early, no-one around, and decided to have a little fun. Yawn, you say, swapping the caps is hardly imaginative. But I didn't, no, I unscrewed the nibs and swapped the bases - the cap and nib were one colour but the ink in the reservoir was another.
Lesson starts, he picks up the black marker and starts writing - black at first, gradually getting lighter and ending up brown. Blue goes purple then red. And so does my maths teacher. He goes abolutely mucking fental.
I eventually had to own up to avoid getting a friend in trouble but when I reported for punishment my housemaster was too busy trying not to cry with laughter to bother, Slow Joe being as popular in the staffroom as he was in the classroom.
We also once tried the watercress-on-the-carpet trick at Uni, but it didn't sprout it just rotted so when the guy got back after a weekend at his parents, his room smelt so bad even after the carpet was taken up and dumped that he was re-housed and his room was boarded up and never used again (the whole house was condemned anyway).
Presumably this QotW will be won by Rossi and Parfitt for revealing that they superglued the Titanic's rudder, removed the "No smoking" signs on the Hindenberg and cut the cables marked "Tsunami Early Warning System' during their recent tour of Indonesia.
(Fri 6th May 2005, 17:15, More)