» Crap meals out

They have some great strong grog too...
While in Kosice, Slovakia last year (for a conference with many other geeky science types), we all stopped off at one of the more traditional restaurants in town. Now for the most part the food was cracking and the menu threw up some of the best attempted translations in history (examples being "Dainty of Granny" and "Chimney Sweep's Balls"). At the dessert stage however, it started to become obvious that they hadn't accounted for so many customers in one evening: all 20-odd of us went for their speciality, some bizarre pancake-like construction with everything added. At my end of the table, we were not only the fastest eaters but nearest the kitchen and so were getting our orders in first. What we got was great, but as these things were delivered further and further down the table, vital ingredients (sauce, fruit and ultimately pancake itself) started to go missing - no prior explanation, just a sheepish "sorry, out of fruit now" etc as they put the plates down . The poor bastards at the far end ended up with plain ice-cream in place of the intended central European dessert extravaganza. Too late to share any of mine tho'.
(Thu 27th Apr 2006, 17:18, More)

» Road Rage

Everywhere's fucking full of 'em
I'm such an angry person; I knew I'd have lots to say this time. This is my domain.
Road rage (the QOTW-relevant bit): I get it all the time. I live near Basingstoke with its wonderful assortment of roundabouts and these in combination with many, many inexplicably-license-owning fuckwits leads to much fun and games. I had no idea so many cars were manufactured these days with no indicators. In fact too many experiences as a driver and pedestrian of being cut up, almost driven off the road/run over has led to my now imminent installation of large warning signs (not totally humourless ones either) on the roundabout near our place. Locals, watch out for them!
My Dad is ancient (and actually a total prick in the Alf Garnett mould), but is just as angry as me. When I was a kid we faced off against a fella in a van from opposite ends of a long, single lane road. We were half way down and the other guy had only just appeared, but accelerated towards us with no intention of reversing to let us pass. Both drivers exit vehicles. Shouting, squaring up etc. Van guy aims a truly shocking, inaccurate punch and misses. My Dad kicks him squarely in the balls, lays him delicately on the verge, gets into the guy's van and reverses it back to the other end of the road. We continue our journey. Another time he went to call another motorist "a cunt" and in this action lost his upper set of dentures, thus diffusing the situation in hysterical laughter from both sides. Last week I was crossing a road at a set of pedestrian lights in Southampton, when some pikey minger rounded the corner, jumped the red and missed me by millimetres. For the rest of the day I lamented not remembering her registration and tracking her down, as opposed to just stating the obvious in calling her a “fucking retard”. This is what I am like.

Parking rage: I have been in the habit, for years, of making little "shit parking award" certificates and leaving them under the wipers. It works because it a) releases tension for me b) hopefully makes the odd one of them think twice c) doesn’t constitute vandalism. Don’t think I am so anal that these are professional-looking things; they just get written on post-its. And they only get brought out for special occasions, like when someone parks diagonally across three spaces when it’s busy, not just when I judge them to be ever so slightly off-centre or something. Where we live, there are a lot of houses in close proximity and far fewer parking spaces. The council say we are allocated one per house, yet everyone else seems to take about three, then invite their mates over each night to take up another 8 or so. Someone’s even sprayed a “no parking – reserved for number x” on TWO of them. Must do something about that.

I’ve even had “canal rage”, just like ChaRleyTroniC. Also involving stone-throwing scallies in Solihull and a bunch of middle-ages hoorays outside Warwick, yelling at us to “keep to the right!” before crashing themselves. You just can’t get way from it.

Whoever said this place was better than therapy was bang on.
(Fri 13th Oct 2006, 13:11, More)

» Urban Legends

Nazis + more exam legends
The one about Fanta being invented by the Nazis had me going for a few years.

As did the legendary student of philosophy (or similar) who, when faced with the exam question "What is courage?" answered simply "This", turned the paper in and left.
(Wed 11th Jan 2006, 10:46, More)

» I hurt my rude bits

My own personal arse impalement story
goes thusly: on a (thankfully short) coach trip last year, I found an empty seat and sat down heavily, resulting in pure agony in the region of the right arse cheek. The metal end of the seatbelt had become wedged between the seat cushions, pointing upwards and had travelled with surprisingly little resistance through my trousers and skin. As it was a relatively blunt object the wound turned out to be pretty big and took a while to heal. I didn't make that much noise over it (quite proud of that) and resisted the temptation to ask my fellow passengers "hey, is my arse bleeding?" which tentative examination soon proved anyway.

It must run in the family: 20+ years ago my cousin was in school assembly in a building undergoing renovation. She perched on a plank of wood with a rusty nail sticking out of it. Sorry Nat.

I have also heard (third- or fourth-hand) about a legendary scrotal rippage on a barbed wire fence, which I either don't believe or don't want to think about.
(Tue 18th Jul 2006, 10:47, More)