Profile for Fothermucker:
Been lurking for a while and thought it was time to have a go. I'll be happy if I can manage the brevity of apeloverage and the humour of frankspencer or legless.
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Been lurking for a while and thought it was time to have a go. I'll be happy if I can manage the brevity of apeloverage and the humour of frankspencer or legless.
Recent front page messages:
none
Best answers to questions:
» Shit Stories: Part Number Two
For cat lovers
A friend of mine was asked to look after a cat that was known to have some bowel trouble. He found the experience so traumatic that he kept a diary (from the cat's point of view):
SUNDAY AM
I left a nice surprise for Bob: a sloppy crap so powerful that it actually emitted its own frequency, and about 4 litres of piss. He wept while he dealt with that! I must have had a bit of an upset tummy. So I did that squinty-eyed, tongue-out thing to make myself look cute.
SUNDAY PM
Tummy back to normal now and a left a firm cigar in the box. I think he’s proud of the way I always drop them right at the back, halfway up the plastic bag. Did a little wee, too.
MONDAY AM
I greeted Bob at the door today. Not personally, you understand, but via the medium of smell. He’d tried to trick me by evenly distributing the litter about the box to catch every dribble – but I defeated him! I distributed three sloppy turds: one in each back corner and one up the side. All of them missed the litter completely! Call me Catson Pollock. Oh, and I managed to leave a squit on the floor outside the box, too.
MONDAY PM
Had a little sleep and went downstairs for another back-of-the-box special. When Bob arrived (the stench of this morning’s faecal bonanza still ringing in his nostrils), he saw the food bowl and decided to bring a fresh bowl of shrimp and jelly upstairs to me. Then he tickled my ears and neck for a while and I purred like a motorbike.
TUESDAY AM
Finished all my food overnight but didn’t do a poo. That means I’ll have a monster offering waiting tonight!
TUESDAY PM
I wasn’t very impressed with today’s turd. Just a bit of a splat really – not much body to it.
WEDNESDAY AM
Ha! Managed some rectal gymnastics last night. I squirted it up the back and over the lip of the tray into the box – I think it was wind-assisted. Bob was visibly moved. As usual, he topped up my bowls with something tasty… or should I say he topped up my bowels
WEDNESDAY PM
Only a little wee. Today I washed my bum and generally gave myself a good clean.
THURSDAY AM
Just when Bob thought he had seen everything, I managed a work of scatological art: two craps one on top of the other… both of entirely different hues and textures! It was like a birthday cake for him – albeit one with a teeth-clenching stench. I also managed to scratch though the plastic so that my wee ran into the box and had to be washed out. After Bob had cleaned up, we had a nice chat – or rather, I ignored him as I ate my hake and halibut. Lovely!
THURSDAY PM
I managed to excel myself by presenting Bob with something entirely new. It looked like a desiccated turd or a mummified cocoon of some kind. It was a fur ball I’d been carrying around all week and I’m sure glad to be rid of it! (Sorry about the dribbly vomit, though.
FRIDAY AM
Feeling very affectionate this morning. I was waiting for Bob when he came through the door and I meowed constantly as he dealt with a rather unimpressive splat I’d done in the litter. Then I gambolled about his legs and cried for more cuddles – he’s a specialist with the ears. I think I’ll do a gigantic crap for him tonight! I know he likes that.
SATURDAY AM
An interesting litter tray this morning. I did the usual back-of-the-box, but also one on the right hand side for variety. He gave me a tasty stick and tickled my head for a while. He also noticed the crap dribble I seem to have made on the carpet in the corridor upstairs – sorry about that!
SATURDAY PM
I was feeling very affectionate and tried to climb on Bob for a cuddle, but he wouldn’t let me (saying my back end was too clotted with abomination).
MONDAY AM
(Did a little poo – about the size and shape of one of those brown slugs. Oh, and I washed my bum.)
MONDAY PM
A nice big crap for Bob to clear up. As he was holding his breath, he noticed the claim on the side of the litter bag that it neutralises all odours. We laughed about that one!
TUESDAY AM
Galileo revolutionised the way we see the sun. Einstein changed relativity. And today I did a perfectly formed, firm panatela at the front of the box. And I rolled it in litter a bit to kill the smell! Impressive, eh!
TUESDAY PM
Bob arrived to find my entire body surrounded by a bizarre iridescent chrysalis. Clearly, I had been co-opted in a strange alien experiment and would emerge a month later as a pterodactyl. Only joking! It was the same old story – did a shit, had some food and a stroke.
(Thu 27th Mar 2008, 16:24, More)
For cat lovers
A friend of mine was asked to look after a cat that was known to have some bowel trouble. He found the experience so traumatic that he kept a diary (from the cat's point of view):
SUNDAY AM
I left a nice surprise for Bob: a sloppy crap so powerful that it actually emitted its own frequency, and about 4 litres of piss. He wept while he dealt with that! I must have had a bit of an upset tummy. So I did that squinty-eyed, tongue-out thing to make myself look cute.
SUNDAY PM
Tummy back to normal now and a left a firm cigar in the box. I think he’s proud of the way I always drop them right at the back, halfway up the plastic bag. Did a little wee, too.
MONDAY AM
I greeted Bob at the door today. Not personally, you understand, but via the medium of smell. He’d tried to trick me by evenly distributing the litter about the box to catch every dribble – but I defeated him! I distributed three sloppy turds: one in each back corner and one up the side. All of them missed the litter completely! Call me Catson Pollock. Oh, and I managed to leave a squit on the floor outside the box, too.
MONDAY PM
Had a little sleep and went downstairs for another back-of-the-box special. When Bob arrived (the stench of this morning’s faecal bonanza still ringing in his nostrils), he saw the food bowl and decided to bring a fresh bowl of shrimp and jelly upstairs to me. Then he tickled my ears and neck for a while and I purred like a motorbike.
TUESDAY AM
Finished all my food overnight but didn’t do a poo. That means I’ll have a monster offering waiting tonight!
TUESDAY PM
I wasn’t very impressed with today’s turd. Just a bit of a splat really – not much body to it.
WEDNESDAY AM
Ha! Managed some rectal gymnastics last night. I squirted it up the back and over the lip of the tray into the box – I think it was wind-assisted. Bob was visibly moved. As usual, he topped up my bowls with something tasty… or should I say he topped up my bowels
WEDNESDAY PM
Only a little wee. Today I washed my bum and generally gave myself a good clean.
THURSDAY AM
Just when Bob thought he had seen everything, I managed a work of scatological art: two craps one on top of the other… both of entirely different hues and textures! It was like a birthday cake for him – albeit one with a teeth-clenching stench. I also managed to scratch though the plastic so that my wee ran into the box and had to be washed out. After Bob had cleaned up, we had a nice chat – or rather, I ignored him as I ate my hake and halibut. Lovely!
THURSDAY PM
I managed to excel myself by presenting Bob with something entirely new. It looked like a desiccated turd or a mummified cocoon of some kind. It was a fur ball I’d been carrying around all week and I’m sure glad to be rid of it! (Sorry about the dribbly vomit, though.
FRIDAY AM
Feeling very affectionate this morning. I was waiting for Bob when he came through the door and I meowed constantly as he dealt with a rather unimpressive splat I’d done in the litter. Then I gambolled about his legs and cried for more cuddles – he’s a specialist with the ears. I think I’ll do a gigantic crap for him tonight! I know he likes that.
SATURDAY AM
An interesting litter tray this morning. I did the usual back-of-the-box, but also one on the right hand side for variety. He gave me a tasty stick and tickled my head for a while. He also noticed the crap dribble I seem to have made on the carpet in the corridor upstairs – sorry about that!
SATURDAY PM
I was feeling very affectionate and tried to climb on Bob for a cuddle, but he wouldn’t let me (saying my back end was too clotted with abomination).
MONDAY AM
(Did a little poo – about the size and shape of one of those brown slugs. Oh, and I washed my bum.)
MONDAY PM
A nice big crap for Bob to clear up. As he was holding his breath, he noticed the claim on the side of the litter bag that it neutralises all odours. We laughed about that one!
TUESDAY AM
Galileo revolutionised the way we see the sun. Einstein changed relativity. And today I did a perfectly formed, firm panatela at the front of the box. And I rolled it in litter a bit to kill the smell! Impressive, eh!
TUESDAY PM
Bob arrived to find my entire body surrounded by a bizarre iridescent chrysalis. Clearly, I had been co-opted in a strange alien experiment and would emerge a month later as a pterodactyl. Only joking! It was the same old story – did a shit, had some food and a stroke.
(Thu 27th Mar 2008, 16:24, More)
» Housemates from hell
pity me
I shared a flat with frankspencer and apeloverage. What with the salacious mutterings and perversions of the former, and the infuriating pedantry of the latter, I almost went insane. Imagine:
Me: Frank, who was the girl you brought home last night.
Frank: Yeah, sorry. She was a screamer, wasn't she? I've been cleaning her ejaculate off my bedside lamp all morning.
Ape: It's not your lamp - it belongs to the landlord. That'll come out of your damage deposit.
Frank: Thanks for that, Ape. I note your girlfriend hasn't been round recently.
Ape: Yeah, I told her that her sandwich wasn't kosher and it turned into an argument.
Me: She's Jewish?
Ape: No. That was part of the argument.
Frank: She certainly had no objection to pork when I last met her.
Ape: You're thinking of a dream you had.
Frank: The one where I shot a geyser of cum up her coal scuttle? Or the one where she suckled my twitching wand of passion?
Ape: You're a wanker.
Frank: She was better at it than I was.
Me: Boys! Boys! [etc.]
(Mon 9th Apr 2007, 21:27, More)
pity me
I shared a flat with frankspencer and apeloverage. What with the salacious mutterings and perversions of the former, and the infuriating pedantry of the latter, I almost went insane. Imagine:
Me: Frank, who was the girl you brought home last night.
Frank: Yeah, sorry. She was a screamer, wasn't she? I've been cleaning her ejaculate off my bedside lamp all morning.
Ape: It's not your lamp - it belongs to the landlord. That'll come out of your damage deposit.
Frank: Thanks for that, Ape. I note your girlfriend hasn't been round recently.
Ape: Yeah, I told her that her sandwich wasn't kosher and it turned into an argument.
Me: She's Jewish?
Ape: No. That was part of the argument.
Frank: She certainly had no objection to pork when I last met her.
Ape: You're thinking of a dream you had.
Frank: The one where I shot a geyser of cum up her coal scuttle? Or the one where she suckled my twitching wand of passion?
Ape: You're a wanker.
Frank: She was better at it than I was.
Me: Boys! Boys! [etc.]
(Mon 9th Apr 2007, 21:27, More)
» Trolls
I earned £20 for this
Dear Sir/Madam
First, let me say that I love your shop. Great food, great brand, great quality.
But – my God – the stores are like animated cemeteries. I’ve never seen so many old people in one place, except perhaps in a care home. I step in from the street and immediately my heartbeat decreases as I meet a slow-moving wall of blue-rinse, walking aids and pastels. Honestly, I almost lapsed into a narcoleptic state the other day as I tried to cut past an old dear who seemed to be using continental drift as a means of locomotion rather than the escalator.
You’ve got to respect them, of course. They must be your core customers. But it’s beyond frustrating for anyone below the age of seventy. I swear I saw one old dear with a ration book walking around. She must have got lost in knitwear in 1951 and was still trying to find her way out of the shop. Another was perched at the top of the escalator quite mesmerised by this wonder of the twentieth century as scores of people backed up behind her.
I can’t live without your pecan yum-yums or cinnamon swirls, so I come into the store regularly. But I risk lapsing into a coma every time I do. There’s no getting round them. I feel like James Bond trying to overtake an ice-cream van on a Swiss mountain pass as I attempt to get out of the doors before my purchases fossilise or evolve into something else entirely.
So I have come up with a few suggestions to make life easier for everyone. If you could implement a few of these, I’m sure that you’d sell more stuff.
1) A fast lane for people who still have all their mental and physical faculties. This would allow your more mobile customers to get in and out of the shop without getting stuck behind an old gent who thinks he’s still on the Somme.
2) A recovery room for oldsters who can’t remember who they are or why they left home that day. They can get a nice cup of tea here and call a relative to find out what year it is etc.
3) Instructions for escalators, informing users that they must continue walking when they reach the beginning or end of the moving metal steps. Stopping will cause others to stumble, fall or become homicidal with rage.
4) Chat lay-bys where groups of gimmers can leave the main walkways to engage in hour-long conversations with friends on how tall little Johnny has become or how Edna’s womb has gone septic etc.
5) Specially-trained staff to take people away from the checkouts and explain that the reindeer cardigan was available only during Christmas 1973 and that the one chance to get it now is on Ebay (or in heaven, which will be reached sooner than a grasp of the internet).
6) Emergency adrenaline shots (break glass for access) to use on people like me whose metabolism has slowed to hibernative rates as I totter in suspended animation behind a woman who has been in the shop so long that her basket contains a Charles & Diana commemorative box of shortbread.
I offer these suggestions as a fan of the store and I hope that you can introduce some of them. If not, some gift vouchers will have to suffice.
(Tue 24th May 2011, 16:03, More)
I earned £20 for this
Dear Sir/Madam
First, let me say that I love your shop. Great food, great brand, great quality.
But – my God – the stores are like animated cemeteries. I’ve never seen so many old people in one place, except perhaps in a care home. I step in from the street and immediately my heartbeat decreases as I meet a slow-moving wall of blue-rinse, walking aids and pastels. Honestly, I almost lapsed into a narcoleptic state the other day as I tried to cut past an old dear who seemed to be using continental drift as a means of locomotion rather than the escalator.
You’ve got to respect them, of course. They must be your core customers. But it’s beyond frustrating for anyone below the age of seventy. I swear I saw one old dear with a ration book walking around. She must have got lost in knitwear in 1951 and was still trying to find her way out of the shop. Another was perched at the top of the escalator quite mesmerised by this wonder of the twentieth century as scores of people backed up behind her.
I can’t live without your pecan yum-yums or cinnamon swirls, so I come into the store regularly. But I risk lapsing into a coma every time I do. There’s no getting round them. I feel like James Bond trying to overtake an ice-cream van on a Swiss mountain pass as I attempt to get out of the doors before my purchases fossilise or evolve into something else entirely.
So I have come up with a few suggestions to make life easier for everyone. If you could implement a few of these, I’m sure that you’d sell more stuff.
1) A fast lane for people who still have all their mental and physical faculties. This would allow your more mobile customers to get in and out of the shop without getting stuck behind an old gent who thinks he’s still on the Somme.
2) A recovery room for oldsters who can’t remember who they are or why they left home that day. They can get a nice cup of tea here and call a relative to find out what year it is etc.
3) Instructions for escalators, informing users that they must continue walking when they reach the beginning or end of the moving metal steps. Stopping will cause others to stumble, fall or become homicidal with rage.
4) Chat lay-bys where groups of gimmers can leave the main walkways to engage in hour-long conversations with friends on how tall little Johnny has become or how Edna’s womb has gone septic etc.
5) Specially-trained staff to take people away from the checkouts and explain that the reindeer cardigan was available only during Christmas 1973 and that the one chance to get it now is on Ebay (or in heaven, which will be reached sooner than a grasp of the internet).
6) Emergency adrenaline shots (break glass for access) to use on people like me whose metabolism has slowed to hibernative rates as I totter in suspended animation behind a woman who has been in the shop so long that her basket contains a Charles & Diana commemorative box of shortbread.
I offer these suggestions as a fan of the store and I hope that you can introduce some of them. If not, some gift vouchers will have to suffice.
(Tue 24th May 2011, 16:03, More)
» Mad Stuff You've Done To Get Someone To Sleep With You
I'm married
So it takes:
a weekend away in a posh hotel
chocolates
flowers
her feeling that she's not fat that day
not mentioning work
good weather
me talking in soothing tones about her family
recounting romantic tales of our courting
a critical time window between 'full after dinner' and 'sleepy before bedtime'
some kind of extended massage/touching
candles and/or aromatherapy
And I usually fail at the point where she asks if I want kids and my face involuntarily scrunches into a twisted mask of loathing at the idea. That's an expensive hand job.
(Fri 13th Apr 2007, 14:54, More)
I'm married
So it takes:
a weekend away in a posh hotel
chocolates
flowers
her feeling that she's not fat that day
not mentioning work
good weather
me talking in soothing tones about her family
recounting romantic tales of our courting
a critical time window between 'full after dinner' and 'sleepy before bedtime'
some kind of extended massage/touching
candles and/or aromatherapy
And I usually fail at the point where she asks if I want kids and my face involuntarily scrunches into a twisted mask of loathing at the idea. That's an expensive hand job.
(Fri 13th Apr 2007, 14:54, More)
» We have to talk
Marriage
No other phrase strikes dread into the weary husband as much as "We need to talk" - because what it really means is:
"You have done something else wrong and now I'm going to explain to you why you are a loser and why I am going to get my way, like I always do - because if I can't win an argument with rational discussion and reasoned examples, I will win it with moody silences, emotional blackmail, crying and harbouring a grudge for months and months until you finally give in on this one trivial point that I have chosen to exaggerate beyond all proportion just because it's my right as a woman to do so."
So when I hear it, I just say "Yes, you're right" and the pain goes away until next time I take off my ankle chains and try to look at the sky.
(Fri 20th Apr 2007, 11:53, More)
Marriage
No other phrase strikes dread into the weary husband as much as "We need to talk" - because what it really means is:
"You have done something else wrong and now I'm going to explain to you why you are a loser and why I am going to get my way, like I always do - because if I can't win an argument with rational discussion and reasoned examples, I will win it with moody silences, emotional blackmail, crying and harbouring a grudge for months and months until you finally give in on this one trivial point that I have chosen to exaggerate beyond all proportion just because it's my right as a woman to do so."
So when I hear it, I just say "Yes, you're right" and the pain goes away until next time I take off my ankle chains and try to look at the sky.
(Fri 20th Apr 2007, 11:53, More)