Profile for sugar_tits:
none
Recent front page messages:
none
Best answers to questions:
[read all their answers]
- a member for 16 years, 2 months and 15 days
- has posted 0 messages on the main board
- has posted 0 messages on the talk board
- has posted 0 messages on the links board
- has posted 15 stories and 36 replies on question of the week
- They liked 16 pictures, 0 links, 0 talk posts, and 39 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:
» Eccentrics
My family and other animals pt 1
My great uncle Eric, was a man whom I never met. He hated children. He wasn’t too keen on women either and never married. The reasons for this were actually quite sad.
He had as a fifteen year old, run away from home to join the Army Air Corps during World War One. It being 1915 / 1916 ish nobody was too hot on checking age or identity and he was swept straight into flight officer training.
He was badly affected by his experiences on the Western Front, and was according to my grandfather, never quite the same person. He managed to re-integrate himself into society with a rather stiff upper lip attitude, but remained quite an odd individual.
The first time my mother went to stay at his house (probably in the seventies), she asked if she could use his television to watch Corrie.
‘I don’t have a television,’ he said.
‘Yes, you do – I’ve seen one through there.’
‘No, I haven’t.’ he said more firmly.
‘Well, what’s that then?’ she asked.
‘Not a television.’
My mother slightly perplexed, approached said television, and tried to switch it on. Nothing. After pressing a few more buttons and twiddling the tuning knob, she ventured around the back to look for the plug. No plug. In fact, the television had a distinct lack of plug, back and insides – it was just an empty shell. She looked up to Eric enquiringly as he said:
‘I told you I didn’t have a television. I have a wooden cabinet with a screen because my elephants look good on it.’
He’d actually bought a TV, had the insides removed, so that he could keep his Indian ornaments on top of it.
Apparently, his favourite sport was screwing with the minds of the TV licence inspectors. When they arrived at his house to check up on him, he’d usher them into the front room and then deny all knowledge of having a television. Used to keep him entertained for hours apparently.
(Sun 2nd Nov 2008, 16:10, More)
My family and other animals pt 1
My great uncle Eric, was a man whom I never met. He hated children. He wasn’t too keen on women either and never married. The reasons for this were actually quite sad.
He had as a fifteen year old, run away from home to join the Army Air Corps during World War One. It being 1915 / 1916 ish nobody was too hot on checking age or identity and he was swept straight into flight officer training.
He was badly affected by his experiences on the Western Front, and was according to my grandfather, never quite the same person. He managed to re-integrate himself into society with a rather stiff upper lip attitude, but remained quite an odd individual.
The first time my mother went to stay at his house (probably in the seventies), she asked if she could use his television to watch Corrie.
‘I don’t have a television,’ he said.
‘Yes, you do – I’ve seen one through there.’
‘No, I haven’t.’ he said more firmly.
‘Well, what’s that then?’ she asked.
‘Not a television.’
My mother slightly perplexed, approached said television, and tried to switch it on. Nothing. After pressing a few more buttons and twiddling the tuning knob, she ventured around the back to look for the plug. No plug. In fact, the television had a distinct lack of plug, back and insides – it was just an empty shell. She looked up to Eric enquiringly as he said:
‘I told you I didn’t have a television. I have a wooden cabinet with a screen because my elephants look good on it.’
He’d actually bought a TV, had the insides removed, so that he could keep his Indian ornaments on top of it.
Apparently, his favourite sport was screwing with the minds of the TV licence inspectors. When they arrived at his house to check up on him, he’d usher them into the front room and then deny all knowledge of having a television. Used to keep him entertained for hours apparently.
(Sun 2nd Nov 2008, 16:10, More)
» Spoilt Brats
A tale of two educations....
I've just got back from a jaunt up to Preston doing a role-play / corporate training day with a lovely group of people. Some of you may know the format - actor role-plays difficult individual who you have to deal with / win over.
Anyway, as I said, a lovely little jolly to the North where the pay is better than being a barman or the other crap jobs 'resting' actors take on.
So, coming back this afternoon, my actor colleague and I get on the London train at Preston, and we take two seats opposite a table of lads.
Now, my first instinct of course is 'oh bollocks, here's trouble all the way back to London'.
Yup, I'm ashamed to say I jumped to conclusions pretty quickly - 4 teenagers, hoodies, phone on the table with the speaker playing a rather bizarrely medley of 80s hits and power ballads (Phil Collins and Tina Turner anyone?) and a couple of them were skinning up. I think you get the idea, and many of you would have probably thought the same.
But no, they weren't too much trouble and kept themselves to themselves and didn't leave the music on for very long.
Turned out two of them were from a rough area of Bristol and two from rough parts of London - they'd been on a week's sailing organised by a charity - I don't know which one, but I guess one that dealt with underprivileged kids.
They were charm personified as a group - friendly, warm, happy to engage in conversation, polite & generally good people.
As we approached Crewe, they started to make a move to get bags out, so I immediately asked if I could grab their table as they got off. Turned out the two Bristolians were changing and the other two were staying on, so I assumed that we wouldn't get the table.
The moment we pulled in, the two London lads offered us the table - both saying they didn't need it any more and besides needed some sleep so it didn't make a difference. A nice little gesture I think you'll agree.
So, my colleague and I are enjoying our good fortuned table-topped luxury, when the train stops at a town certain for a famous public school. On get two gentleman who are around the late 50s, early 60s mark, well dressed and who ask to share our table.
Of course, we agree and make room for them. Within 20 seconds of sitting down, they've tried to take over the table. Not only physically, but vocally as well. My colleague and I can barely hear each other over their conversation. (Bit silly trying to take on two classically trained actors in a game of who can project their voice more, but anyway we resisted the temptation for the sake of the others in the carriage).
On the two occaisions that either of us wanted to go to the loo, the act of moving their sextagenerian arses was treated as though we'd asked them to eat razor-laden turds. And, of course the same when we come back from the loo as well. An utter refusal to acknowledge that we were there, and when we had to ask them to move, a tut.
Now, you might at this point be thinking that this really isn't the end of the world, Sugar-Tits. Grow a pair and deal with it, so you met a couple of slightly rude gents on the train.
Big deal.
Normally, I'd agree with you, but in this case the two gentleman had just come back from an old school reunion of some sort (they were discussing their old school and who had been doing what etc), and judging from their later conversations they also had senior jobs in the City.
It was, I thought, just interesting to see the difference between how four underprivileged kids and two wealthy, 'well brought up' men behaved towards other people.
This isn't, believe it or not, an attack on public school boys, since sugar-tits actually did go to a quite well known public school. It's a commentary on the fact that you get arseholes in every level of the social strata. Two privately educated 'gentlemen' had their lack of manners shown up by a bunch of underpriveleged hoodies from rough council estates.
Really made me feel warm inside, that I found some human decency in the place where I least expected it.
(Tue 14th Oct 2008, 19:01, More)
A tale of two educations....
I've just got back from a jaunt up to Preston doing a role-play / corporate training day with a lovely group of people. Some of you may know the format - actor role-plays difficult individual who you have to deal with / win over.
Anyway, as I said, a lovely little jolly to the North where the pay is better than being a barman or the other crap jobs 'resting' actors take on.
So, coming back this afternoon, my actor colleague and I get on the London train at Preston, and we take two seats opposite a table of lads.
Now, my first instinct of course is 'oh bollocks, here's trouble all the way back to London'.
Yup, I'm ashamed to say I jumped to conclusions pretty quickly - 4 teenagers, hoodies, phone on the table with the speaker playing a rather bizarrely medley of 80s hits and power ballads (Phil Collins and Tina Turner anyone?) and a couple of them were skinning up. I think you get the idea, and many of you would have probably thought the same.
But no, they weren't too much trouble and kept themselves to themselves and didn't leave the music on for very long.
Turned out two of them were from a rough area of Bristol and two from rough parts of London - they'd been on a week's sailing organised by a charity - I don't know which one, but I guess one that dealt with underprivileged kids.
They were charm personified as a group - friendly, warm, happy to engage in conversation, polite & generally good people.
As we approached Crewe, they started to make a move to get bags out, so I immediately asked if I could grab their table as they got off. Turned out the two Bristolians were changing and the other two were staying on, so I assumed that we wouldn't get the table.
The moment we pulled in, the two London lads offered us the table - both saying they didn't need it any more and besides needed some sleep so it didn't make a difference. A nice little gesture I think you'll agree.
So, my colleague and I are enjoying our good fortuned table-topped luxury, when the train stops at a town certain for a famous public school. On get two gentleman who are around the late 50s, early 60s mark, well dressed and who ask to share our table.
Of course, we agree and make room for them. Within 20 seconds of sitting down, they've tried to take over the table. Not only physically, but vocally as well. My colleague and I can barely hear each other over their conversation. (Bit silly trying to take on two classically trained actors in a game of who can project their voice more, but anyway we resisted the temptation for the sake of the others in the carriage).
On the two occaisions that either of us wanted to go to the loo, the act of moving their sextagenerian arses was treated as though we'd asked them to eat razor-laden turds. And, of course the same when we come back from the loo as well. An utter refusal to acknowledge that we were there, and when we had to ask them to move, a tut.
Now, you might at this point be thinking that this really isn't the end of the world, Sugar-Tits. Grow a pair and deal with it, so you met a couple of slightly rude gents on the train.
Big deal.
Normally, I'd agree with you, but in this case the two gentleman had just come back from an old school reunion of some sort (they were discussing their old school and who had been doing what etc), and judging from their later conversations they also had senior jobs in the City.
It was, I thought, just interesting to see the difference between how four underprivileged kids and two wealthy, 'well brought up' men behaved towards other people.
This isn't, believe it or not, an attack on public school boys, since sugar-tits actually did go to a quite well known public school. It's a commentary on the fact that you get arseholes in every level of the social strata. Two privately educated 'gentlemen' had their lack of manners shown up by a bunch of underpriveleged hoodies from rough council estates.
Really made me feel warm inside, that I found some human decency in the place where I least expected it.
(Tue 14th Oct 2008, 19:01, More)
» Celebrities part II
Not my story but...
Since this is apocraphyl, I'm not quite sure it fits in this qotw, but as a celeb story I like it, so tough. As an actor you quickly get to hear who the utter arseholes are and less often who the nice ones are.
There's a lovely story that I heard about Sean Connery from another actor I know, on the 1979 film The Great Train Robbery.
It centres around Michael Elphick who used to be Boon in the 80s and in the last few years of his life was a regular on Eastenders. Elphick was a legendary boozer and his alcohol problems almost certainly contributed to his early death.
Anyhoo, on the set of this film, he arrives one morning with a stinking hangover, having been in the hotel bar most of the night and he doesn't know his lines - at all. Now this is bad, very bad. If you hold up filming because you've been on the sauce all night and you're a small part, you'll probably cost the production a lot of money.
Result is you'll get fired and the damage to your reputation as a professional doesn't bear thinking about. So understandably, Elphick as well as feeling like shit is slightly nervous. He arrives on set stinking like a brewery, says hello to Connery who acknowledges him with a slightly surprised glance, and then he quickly tries to knuckle down to get his lines in.
Half an hour later he's on set for a scene with Connery and he's shitting himself. Scene starts, Elphick gets his first couple of lines out and then... miracle of miracles... Connery screws up!
2nd take, Connery stumbles through his first lines, Elphick gets through his next couple of lines, and then Connery does it again - dries like an 8 year old doing the school Christmas show.
3rd take, 4th take, 5th take and the same thing keeps happening, they get a little bit further each time and then Connery keeps screwing up - to the extent that he's starting to look like an amateur.
Elphick meanwhile is starting to get on top of his lines and is thinking that Connery really isn't all that impressive as an actor, but, hey, he's the star so what can you do?
After another few fruitless takes, Connery apologises to the cast and crew, and asks if he can take a break for 20 minutes to get his head sorted, and when they come back, they'll do the scene in a take and be done with it.
Elphick can't believe his luck, and so goes outside for a quick coffee and cigarette. As he's stubbing his fag out round one of the backs of the trailers, Connery walks round the corner and says 'Alright Michael, do you think you know your lines now?'
Connery had deliberately screwed up every single take to help Michael Elphick out and save his reputation. Connery as the huge star could get away with it. So, if anyone gives you any nasty gossip about Sean Connery, don't believe a word - they don't come much nicer.
(Wed 14th Oct 2009, 13:45, More)
Not my story but...
Since this is apocraphyl, I'm not quite sure it fits in this qotw, but as a celeb story I like it, so tough. As an actor you quickly get to hear who the utter arseholes are and less often who the nice ones are.
There's a lovely story that I heard about Sean Connery from another actor I know, on the 1979 film The Great Train Robbery.
It centres around Michael Elphick who used to be Boon in the 80s and in the last few years of his life was a regular on Eastenders. Elphick was a legendary boozer and his alcohol problems almost certainly contributed to his early death.
Anyhoo, on the set of this film, he arrives one morning with a stinking hangover, having been in the hotel bar most of the night and he doesn't know his lines - at all. Now this is bad, very bad. If you hold up filming because you've been on the sauce all night and you're a small part, you'll probably cost the production a lot of money.
Result is you'll get fired and the damage to your reputation as a professional doesn't bear thinking about. So understandably, Elphick as well as feeling like shit is slightly nervous. He arrives on set stinking like a brewery, says hello to Connery who acknowledges him with a slightly surprised glance, and then he quickly tries to knuckle down to get his lines in.
Half an hour later he's on set for a scene with Connery and he's shitting himself. Scene starts, Elphick gets his first couple of lines out and then... miracle of miracles... Connery screws up!
2nd take, Connery stumbles through his first lines, Elphick gets through his next couple of lines, and then Connery does it again - dries like an 8 year old doing the school Christmas show.
3rd take, 4th take, 5th take and the same thing keeps happening, they get a little bit further each time and then Connery keeps screwing up - to the extent that he's starting to look like an amateur.
Elphick meanwhile is starting to get on top of his lines and is thinking that Connery really isn't all that impressive as an actor, but, hey, he's the star so what can you do?
After another few fruitless takes, Connery apologises to the cast and crew, and asks if he can take a break for 20 minutes to get his head sorted, and when they come back, they'll do the scene in a take and be done with it.
Elphick can't believe his luck, and so goes outside for a quick coffee and cigarette. As he's stubbing his fag out round one of the backs of the trailers, Connery walks round the corner and says 'Alright Michael, do you think you know your lines now?'
Connery had deliberately screwed up every single take to help Michael Elphick out and save his reputation. Connery as the huge star could get away with it. So, if anyone gives you any nasty gossip about Sean Connery, don't believe a word - they don't come much nicer.
(Wed 14th Oct 2009, 13:45, More)
» Prejudice
Pea-roast
From the spoilt brats qotw a year or so ago....
----------------------------------------------
A tale of two educations....
I've just got back from a jaunt up to Preston doing a role-play / corporate training day with a lovely group of people. Some of you may know the format - actor role-plays difficult individual who you have to deal with / win over.
Anyway, as I said, a lovely little jolly to the North where the pay is better than being a barman or the other crap jobs 'resting' actors take on.
So, coming back this afternoon, my actor colleague and I get on the London train at Preston, and we take two seats opposite a table of lads.
Now, my first instinct of course is 'oh bollocks, here's trouble all the way back to London'.
Yup, I'm ashamed to say I jumped to conclusions pretty quickly - 4 teenagers, hoodies, phone on the table with the speaker playing a rather bizarrely medley of 80s hits and power ballads (Phil Collins and Tina Turner anyone?) and a couple of them were skinning up. I think you get the idea, and many of you would have probably thought the same.
But no, they weren't too much trouble and kept themselves to themselves and didn't leave the music on for very long.
Turned out two of them were from a rough area of Bristol and two from rough parts of London - they'd been on a week's sailing organised by a charity - I don't know which one, but I guess one that dealt with underprivileged kids.
They were charm personified as a group - friendly, warm, happy to engage in conversation, polite & generally good people.
As we approached Crewe, they started to make a move to get bags out, so I immediately asked if I could grab their table as they got off. Turned out the two Bristolians were changing and the other two were staying on, so I assumed that we wouldn't get the table.
The moment we pulled in, the two London lads offered us the table - both saying they didn't need it any more and besides needed some sleep so it didn't make a difference. A nice little gesture I think you'll agree.
So, my colleague and I are enjoying our good fortuned table-topped luxury, when the train stops at a town certain for a famous public school. On get two gentleman who are around the late 50s, early 60s mark, well dressed and who ask to share our table.
Of course, we agree and make room for them. Within 20 seconds of sitting down, they've tried to take over the table. Not only physically, but vocally as well. My colleague and I can barely hear each other over their conversation. (Bit silly trying to take on two classically trained actors in a game of who can project their voice more, but anyway we resisted the temptation for the sake of the others in the carriage).
On the two occaisions that either of us wanted to go to the loo, the act of moving their sextagenerian arses was treated as though we'd asked them to eat razor-laden turds. And, of course the same when we come back from the loo as well. An utter refusal to acknowledge that we were there, and when we had to ask them to move, a tut.
Now, you might at this point be thinking that this really isn't the end of the world, Sugar-Tits. Grow a pair and deal with it, so you met a couple of slightly rude gents on the train.
Big deal.
Normally, I'd agree with you, but in this case the two gentleman had just come back from an old school reunion of some sort (they were discussing their old school and who had been doing what etc), and judging from their later conversations they also had senior jobs in the City.
It was, I thought, just interesting to see the difference between how four underprivileged kids and two wealthy, 'well brought up' men behaved towards other people.
This isn't, believe it or not, an attack on public school boys, since sugar-tits actually did go to a quite well known public school. It's a commentary on the fact that you get arseholes in every level of the social strata. Two privately educated 'gentlemen' had their lack of manners shown up by a bunch of underpriveleged hoodies from rough council estates.
Really made me feel warm inside, that I found some human decency in the place where I least expected it.
(Fri 2nd Apr 2010, 12:27, More)
Pea-roast
From the spoilt brats qotw a year or so ago....
----------------------------------------------
A tale of two educations....
I've just got back from a jaunt up to Preston doing a role-play / corporate training day with a lovely group of people. Some of you may know the format - actor role-plays difficult individual who you have to deal with / win over.
Anyway, as I said, a lovely little jolly to the North where the pay is better than being a barman or the other crap jobs 'resting' actors take on.
So, coming back this afternoon, my actor colleague and I get on the London train at Preston, and we take two seats opposite a table of lads.
Now, my first instinct of course is 'oh bollocks, here's trouble all the way back to London'.
Yup, I'm ashamed to say I jumped to conclusions pretty quickly - 4 teenagers, hoodies, phone on the table with the speaker playing a rather bizarrely medley of 80s hits and power ballads (Phil Collins and Tina Turner anyone?) and a couple of them were skinning up. I think you get the idea, and many of you would have probably thought the same.
But no, they weren't too much trouble and kept themselves to themselves and didn't leave the music on for very long.
Turned out two of them were from a rough area of Bristol and two from rough parts of London - they'd been on a week's sailing organised by a charity - I don't know which one, but I guess one that dealt with underprivileged kids.
They were charm personified as a group - friendly, warm, happy to engage in conversation, polite & generally good people.
As we approached Crewe, they started to make a move to get bags out, so I immediately asked if I could grab their table as they got off. Turned out the two Bristolians were changing and the other two were staying on, so I assumed that we wouldn't get the table.
The moment we pulled in, the two London lads offered us the table - both saying they didn't need it any more and besides needed some sleep so it didn't make a difference. A nice little gesture I think you'll agree.
So, my colleague and I are enjoying our good fortuned table-topped luxury, when the train stops at a town certain for a famous public school. On get two gentleman who are around the late 50s, early 60s mark, well dressed and who ask to share our table.
Of course, we agree and make room for them. Within 20 seconds of sitting down, they've tried to take over the table. Not only physically, but vocally as well. My colleague and I can barely hear each other over their conversation. (Bit silly trying to take on two classically trained actors in a game of who can project their voice more, but anyway we resisted the temptation for the sake of the others in the carriage).
On the two occaisions that either of us wanted to go to the loo, the act of moving their sextagenerian arses was treated as though we'd asked them to eat razor-laden turds. And, of course the same when we come back from the loo as well. An utter refusal to acknowledge that we were there, and when we had to ask them to move, a tut.
Now, you might at this point be thinking that this really isn't the end of the world, Sugar-Tits. Grow a pair and deal with it, so you met a couple of slightly rude gents on the train.
Big deal.
Normally, I'd agree with you, but in this case the two gentleman had just come back from an old school reunion of some sort (they were discussing their old school and who had been doing what etc), and judging from their later conversations they also had senior jobs in the City.
It was, I thought, just interesting to see the difference between how four underprivileged kids and two wealthy, 'well brought up' men behaved towards other people.
This isn't, believe it or not, an attack on public school boys, since sugar-tits actually did go to a quite well known public school. It's a commentary on the fact that you get arseholes in every level of the social strata. Two privately educated 'gentlemen' had their lack of manners shown up by a bunch of underpriveleged hoodies from rough council estates.
Really made me feel warm inside, that I found some human decency in the place where I least expected it.
(Fri 2nd Apr 2010, 12:27, More)
» Prejudice
Retribution, RN style
I heard this story years ago, God knows if it's true...
~~~~~~~ wavy lines transporting us back to the late 1940s ~~~~~~~
HMS Belfast after the end of the war was stationed out in the Far East, as part of the Royal Navy's Oriental presence. It was a horrible time for the crew - this still being the time of hammocks slung up below decks and no air-conditioning. (Temperatures below decks would regularly be over 100 degrees F in the tropical heat). So, when the ship pulled into Hong Kong for a resupply and some R & R, it was a welcome respite for the entire crew - a real opportunity to let off some steam.
The last night before sailing a small group of the officers were out in the city for a quiet drink and a meal, making the most of their last few hours of freedom before an early evening sailing the next day. They're on their first and last beer, taking it slowly as they realise this'll be the last one for a few months when they hear,
"Are you f***ing limeys? I hate f***ing limeys. Limeys are all fags."
There's an American gentleman standing at the bar who starts to pour out a torrent of abuse at them. They're doing their best to ignore it, but the Yank is having none of it and continues to hurl abuse at them. Then he approaches their table, sits down and proceeds to tell them how and why they were the scum of the earth. They politely tell him they aren't interested and could he leave them alone.
"Leave you alone? Hey, if it wasn't for us you'd be two down on world wars by now. You assholes can't even fight."
This, of course, to some officers who have been stationed aboard the Belfast for a good few years and have experienced the horrors of war in the Atlantic, the Russian convoys and the Far East. Suddenly, it had started to get very personal, and knowing that if they got caught in a brawl they'd be in a lot of trouble, one of them thought of a different approach to the problem.
"Well I bet we could drink your fat Yank arse under the table."
Reg rag to a bull. His face went crimson with rage at the suggestion that a Brit could beat him at anything. Problem was that the Navy officers didn't want to get drunk, it being the day before a sailing. So they started drinking water instead of spirits, and made sure that he became increasingly lubricated. Eventually, he passed out in a stupor incapable of speech or movement. You would have thought the Godawful hangover and the fact that he'd pissed himself would be revenge enough, but when someone has insulted the memory of your dead friends you'd probably be in a slightly less forgiving mood.
They took him to a tattoo parlour instead.
From here on in, I can only speculate as to his side of the story. The navy boys delivered him back to his hotel and headed back to the ship. Sober.
Although, I would have loved to have seen his face the next morning though as he stood in front of the mirror. With an enormous Union Jack permanently etched across his chest.
(Fri 2nd Apr 2010, 10:23, More)
Retribution, RN style
I heard this story years ago, God knows if it's true...
~~~~~~~ wavy lines transporting us back to the late 1940s ~~~~~~~
HMS Belfast after the end of the war was stationed out in the Far East, as part of the Royal Navy's Oriental presence. It was a horrible time for the crew - this still being the time of hammocks slung up below decks and no air-conditioning. (Temperatures below decks would regularly be over 100 degrees F in the tropical heat). So, when the ship pulled into Hong Kong for a resupply and some R & R, it was a welcome respite for the entire crew - a real opportunity to let off some steam.
The last night before sailing a small group of the officers were out in the city for a quiet drink and a meal, making the most of their last few hours of freedom before an early evening sailing the next day. They're on their first and last beer, taking it slowly as they realise this'll be the last one for a few months when they hear,
"Are you f***ing limeys? I hate f***ing limeys. Limeys are all fags."
There's an American gentleman standing at the bar who starts to pour out a torrent of abuse at them. They're doing their best to ignore it, but the Yank is having none of it and continues to hurl abuse at them. Then he approaches their table, sits down and proceeds to tell them how and why they were the scum of the earth. They politely tell him they aren't interested and could he leave them alone.
"Leave you alone? Hey, if it wasn't for us you'd be two down on world wars by now. You assholes can't even fight."
This, of course, to some officers who have been stationed aboard the Belfast for a good few years and have experienced the horrors of war in the Atlantic, the Russian convoys and the Far East. Suddenly, it had started to get very personal, and knowing that if they got caught in a brawl they'd be in a lot of trouble, one of them thought of a different approach to the problem.
"Well I bet we could drink your fat Yank arse under the table."
Reg rag to a bull. His face went crimson with rage at the suggestion that a Brit could beat him at anything. Problem was that the Navy officers didn't want to get drunk, it being the day before a sailing. So they started drinking water instead of spirits, and made sure that he became increasingly lubricated. Eventually, he passed out in a stupor incapable of speech or movement. You would have thought the Godawful hangover and the fact that he'd pissed himself would be revenge enough, but when someone has insulted the memory of your dead friends you'd probably be in a slightly less forgiving mood.
They took him to a tattoo parlour instead.
From here on in, I can only speculate as to his side of the story. The navy boys delivered him back to his hotel and headed back to the ship. Sober.
Although, I would have loved to have seen his face the next morning though as he stood in front of the mirror. With an enormous Union Jack permanently etched across his chest.
(Fri 2nd Apr 2010, 10:23, More)