Profile for 0% Interest:
There's fuck all here any more.
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- a member for 21 years, 4 months and 2 days
- has posted 2232 messages on the main board
- (of which 7 have appeared on the front page)
- has posted 2 messages on the talk board
- has posted 5 messages on the links board
- has posted 8 stories and 2 replies on question of the week
- They liked 67 pictures, 0 links, 0 talk posts, and 0 qotw answers.
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There's fuck all here any more.
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Recent front page messages:
Best answers to questions:
» Breakin' The Law
My brother Dave, aged 13, had his bike nicked.
Two policefolk came to the door to investigate. I (aged 6) answered the door.
"Could we speak to Dave Interest?" asked a copper.
"Dave!" I shouted up the stairs. "It's the scum!"
They never did find that bike.
(Thu 8th Jan 2004, 9:33, More)
My brother Dave, aged 13, had his bike nicked.
Two policefolk came to the door to investigate. I (aged 6) answered the door.
"Could we speak to Dave Interest?" asked a copper.
"Dave!" I shouted up the stairs. "It's the scum!"
They never did find that bike.
(Thu 8th Jan 2004, 9:33, More)
» Stuff You've Overheard
Two 14-year-old schoolgirls,
overheard at Shepherd's Bush tube station yesterday afternoon:
Girl 1: "So did you snog him?"
Girl 2: "Yeah."
Girl 1: "Ewwwwwww. Did you use tongues?"
Girl 2: "Yeah. Well, he did. I couldn't be bothered."
(Thu 10th Jun 2004, 11:02, More)
Two 14-year-old schoolgirls,
overheard at Shepherd's Bush tube station yesterday afternoon:
Girl 1: "So did you snog him?"
Girl 2: "Yeah."
Girl 1: "Ewwwwwww. Did you use tongues?"
Girl 2: "Yeah. Well, he did. I couldn't be bothered."
(Thu 10th Jun 2004, 11:02, More)
» Abusing freebies
Media freebie at a big London gallery.
The boss didn't recognise the PR company hosting it, so gave the invites to the trainee reporters. Turns out the agency in question represented MPs, dignitaries and suchlike, and really didn't intend to invite anyone from our tinpot little publication in the first place.
Drunk doesn't even begin to describe it. Long story short, I knock a six-foot-tall flower vase over Virginia Bottomley. My colleague then gets into a fist fight with the Champagne waiter and ends up flailing into the string quartet's cello player. Judging this a wizard way to meet women, he starts launching himself hands-first at every other female in the room.
Our hosts soon decide it's time for him to leave -- something he refuses to do until he finds where I've disappeared to. This stalemate is eventually broken when the boss of the PR firm chances upon me in the car park, giving a knee-trembler to one of the junior executives.
Even after an official apology, we were never asked back.
(Fri 9th Nov 2007, 1:17, More)
Media freebie at a big London gallery.
The boss didn't recognise the PR company hosting it, so gave the invites to the trainee reporters. Turns out the agency in question represented MPs, dignitaries and suchlike, and really didn't intend to invite anyone from our tinpot little publication in the first place.
Drunk doesn't even begin to describe it. Long story short, I knock a six-foot-tall flower vase over Virginia Bottomley. My colleague then gets into a fist fight with the Champagne waiter and ends up flailing into the string quartet's cello player. Judging this a wizard way to meet women, he starts launching himself hands-first at every other female in the room.
Our hosts soon decide it's time for him to leave -- something he refuses to do until he finds where I've disappeared to. This stalemate is eventually broken when the boss of the PR firm chances upon me in the car park, giving a knee-trembler to one of the junior executives.
Even after an official apology, we were never asked back.
(Fri 9th Nov 2007, 1:17, More)
» Heckles
Three exceptions to the rule that comedy club heckles are shite ...
1. At The Comedy Pub in London, the entire front row is watching the show very intently, but laughing only at the most inappropriate times. After a couple of acts come and go, seasoned stand-up Spencer Brown decides to try some banter with a startled-but-happy-looking lady in front and centre. (I think he referred to her as looking "like a toddler that had just seen a fox for the first time".) She responds: "I am sorry, we are Norwegian and we do not understand you talking too quickly. We are however very much enjoying your amusing uniform."
2. A "secret" (ie. poorly attended) pre-Edinburgh warm-up gig by Chris Addison*, who had a Perrier nomination the year before, in the basement of a London bar. About 10 minutes into the set, three dolled-up American ladies walk across the front of the stage and sit down in a corner booth. We (ie. the stand-up and the dozen or so people in the audience) all say "hello" to the latecomers, as is tradition in such circumstances. Then, about 15 minutes later, they walk back across the front of the stage and make their way to the exit. Chris asks, why leaving so soon? One lady turns and replies in the broadest of Texas accents: "We've all decided to go somewhere we can talk. But don't worry -- you really are quite funny." That gets the biggest laugh of the night. (Which, under boxing rules, means Texas Lady wins Mr Addison's Perrier nomination and gets to challenge Laura Solon in the next round.)
3. A midnight gig with Paul Foot and Trevor Lock. I find myself being heckled by another audience member from the opposite side of the room, because I'm "drinking coffee" and therefore the type that "drinks coffee". I'm forced to explain that the bar had run out of glasses, and my paper beaker contained red wine, and that I'm a different type entirely. We're both quite drunk, so this process takes up around 15 minutes of the 1 hour show. I'm told this was neither more nor less amusing than anything that had been happening on stage.
(* late-breaking edit: have just remembered it was Alun Cochrane, not Chris Addison.)
(Fri 7th Apr 2006, 11:22, More)
Three exceptions to the rule that comedy club heckles are shite ...
1. At The Comedy Pub in London, the entire front row is watching the show very intently, but laughing only at the most inappropriate times. After a couple of acts come and go, seasoned stand-up Spencer Brown decides to try some banter with a startled-but-happy-looking lady in front and centre. (I think he referred to her as looking "like a toddler that had just seen a fox for the first time".) She responds: "I am sorry, we are Norwegian and we do not understand you talking too quickly. We are however very much enjoying your amusing uniform."
2. A "secret" (ie. poorly attended) pre-Edinburgh warm-up gig by Chris Addison*, who had a Perrier nomination the year before, in the basement of a London bar. About 10 minutes into the set, three dolled-up American ladies walk across the front of the stage and sit down in a corner booth. We (ie. the stand-up and the dozen or so people in the audience) all say "hello" to the latecomers, as is tradition in such circumstances. Then, about 15 minutes later, they walk back across the front of the stage and make their way to the exit. Chris asks, why leaving so soon? One lady turns and replies in the broadest of Texas accents: "We've all decided to go somewhere we can talk. But don't worry -- you really are quite funny." That gets the biggest laugh of the night. (Which, under boxing rules, means Texas Lady wins Mr Addison's Perrier nomination and gets to challenge Laura Solon in the next round.)
3. A midnight gig with Paul Foot and Trevor Lock. I find myself being heckled by another audience member from the opposite side of the room, because I'm "drinking coffee" and therefore the type that "drinks coffee". I'm forced to explain that the bar had run out of glasses, and my paper beaker contained red wine, and that I'm a different type entirely. We're both quite drunk, so this process takes up around 15 minutes of the 1 hour show. I'm told this was neither more nor less amusing than anything that had been happening on stage.
(* late-breaking edit: have just remembered it was Alun Cochrane, not Chris Addison.)
(Fri 7th Apr 2006, 11:22, More)