» Celebrities part II

Not Me But My Dad...
Who is a typically blunt Lancastrian man.

At a party held by a landowner [and thus rich] friend of his in the Midlands, who should my Dad find himself stood next to, but Miranda Richardson...

By way of introduction my Dad offers "I've seen you on television, haven't I? You're the actress Miranda Richardson?..."

"No" she responds tersely, "I'm an Ac-TOR",

Following on my Dad replies "Yes, you were in "Blackadder" weren't you?

Ms Richardson nods approvingly.

And, finally with a straight face, intent on bringing her down a notch or two, he goes in for the coup-de-grace:

"You played 'Nursey', didn't you?"
(Thu 8th Oct 2009, 13:52, More)

» DIY disasters

Not Mine But My Dads'
This happened around 1985, in our little Lancashire Cottage, our carpets had been replaced, furniture re-upholstered, and all that was left was for a back-boiler to be put in behind our coal fire.

A plumber was duly engaged and came to do the work. After a couple of days, myself and Mum were ready for the switch-on, and after a few minutes of the virgin pump coming to life, drips of water began to drop from the ceiling of our split-level beamed living room.

The drips soon developed into a small stream of water running through a worrying looking crack in the plaster of the ceiling. Plumber worriedly turns off the pump, and almost immediately, a quarter of the ceiling came crashing down. Plumber looks red-faced and announces that he "must have forgotten to solder a pipe...." Off he goes to get his plastering gear in a fit of apologies.

By the time Dad gets home, Plumber has fixed the pipe, soldered it up and is busy plastering the hole in the ceiling. Mum and myself have cleaned up the best we can. All the furniture has been moved to the front half of the room.

The Plumber advises my Dad that if he was to find any loose floorboards then they need screwing, and not nailing down.

Of course, this goes into one of my Dads' ears and immediately out of the other one.

His work complete, the Plumber / Plasterer packs up and goes home, and my Dad is left to look for loose floorboards. He duly finds one upstairs, at the front of the house, directly above where all the furniture has been moved to. Hammer in hand, he proceeds to secure a floorboard, with a nail he happens to have with him.

A blue flash of light shoots across our little row of cottages, and the neighbours assume that a Thunderstorm is approaching. A burning smell alerts my Dad that perhaps not all is well with his handywork. Consequently he claws the nail out of the floorboard, and is hit in the face with a jet of hot water. Soon afterwards, another quarter of the ceiling upends itself on the now soaking furniture, directly underneath, which is covered already in plaster dust and other assorted crap found between floors of centuries-old cottages.

How he avoided certain death is beyond me, what he'd managed to do was not just pierce a water pipe, but then drive the nail into a mains electricity cable routed underneath the pipe......

First post, apologies for length and unexpected piercing.
(Tue 8th Apr 2008, 17:06, More)

» Best and worst TV ads

Any Cosmetics Advert
That promises women [more striking eyelashes / more luscious lips / etc, etc]
And then proceeds to mention in the small print that the effect of said product on the models in the advert is: "emphasised in post-production."

Well, hang-on-just-a-fucking-minute...

If the effect is effectively photoshopped up in post-production, then clearly the advert is sheer fantasy.....
(Tue 20th Apr 2010, 15:34, More)

» Famous people I hate

My 2p
Alan Carr: Fuck off and die under burning plastic, you annoying, whiny histrionic cunt.

Ant & Dec: You're not the new Morcambe and Wise, or the Two Ronnies for that matter, you're just cunts with too much media exposure.

Peaches Geldof & Fearne Cotton: FUCK OFF!

Joe Pasquale: Someone cut-out his vocal cords, ASAP.

William Hague: "Smug" made flesh. No wonder he used to work for Andersen Consulting - a well-known shower of cunts.

Gary Stringer [Reef]: JUST...FUCK...OFF.

Pete Doherty: Just hurry up and get your inevitable squalid drugs-overdose done with, please...

Jan Moir: Poisonous Professional Homophobe. I hope you contract Ebola. HIV is too good for you.

The Gallagher Brothers: Two fucking hyper inflated egos', not befitting from Beatles copyists.

Bono: Santimonious Cunt.

Nick Griffin: Simply Does Not Deserve To Live.

Paris Hilton / Victoria Beckham / Colleen Rooney / Cheryl Cole / Etc: Intellect Vaccuums who should go on a sponsored oxygen starvation diet for the good of the world.


And finally Bawling Chav Cunts who delight in playing shit R'n'B off their telephones in public, the should all be rounded up & forceably repatriated to an Island previously used for Anthrax testing...
(Fri 5th Feb 2010, 13:23, More)

» Bizarre habits

My Old Boss...
Told me this not long after I started work on his team.

As a child, he was obsessed by the concept of Infinity. He decided he would attempt to count to Infinity.

Every day at school, he would stand in the corner of the schoolyard counting to himself, not engaging with the other children.

He told me he got bored when he'd counted to 40,000. He was sure though that he'd never missed a single number in his counting.
(Thu 1st Jul 2010, 15:19, More)