» Inflated Self-Importance

TV film crew nobody.
Once, whilst on holiday in the Dales several years ago, I went to Bolton castle. After having been bum raped in the wallet to get in, a small spotty youth with a clip board and a laminated badge of power approached and commanded us to stay where we were and to remain quiet whilst they were filming some scene for the truly awful drama series Heartbeat.

30 minutes later after getting bored of seeing Bill Maynard sat in a chair being fed his lines whilst the luvvies ran around tinkering with equipment I asked how long we were going to have to wait. The waves of contempt emanating from the youth as he put finger to his lips to shush me nearly earned him some corrective surgery in the nearest A+E. Finally we were allowed to shuffle further from the entrance only to find out we could not go anywhere normally accessable inside apart from the cafe and gift shop.

15 minutes later, the little prick showed his face again in order to keep us quiet and corralled. By this time I had had enough. I asked him if he had payed to get in (he hadn't), pointed out that the rest of us had and were here to look at the castle plus this was Yorkshire and most people around here arent star struck enough to tolerate being ordered around like the plebs he thought we were.
The supportive mutters from the other people got louder as I turned around and remonstrated with the admission fee drone and demanded my money back as loudly as possible.

Oddly enough, I lived in Honley at the time which is a couple of miles from Holmfirth and had become used to the regular filming of Last of the Summer Wine which trains a person to be adept at dealing with the hassle of trying to drive a car through the rivers of tourists and rubber neckers come to look at the TV people.
I was on holiday trying to avoid filming season back home which was probably why I imagined how I was going to torture this arsehole to death with his clipboard, pen, laminated badge and official film crew lanyard after chinning the little dick holster.
Fucking obnoxious little wank stain.
(Fri 25th Jan 2013, 17:25, More)

» Getting Old

world of work
Started a new job last month as another uniformed hi viz nameless wage slave in some crappy warehouse.

I spotted some pretty girlie who wasn't from some country that used to be part of the former USSR, so I sucked in the gut and turned on the cheeky charm only to discover i'm older than her parents and was getting shitfaced in some field down Staffordshire in the early 90's when she was a just a pound coin her dad later probably regretted not spending in the gents.

Sigh!!!
(Fri 8th Jun 2012, 10:34, More)

» Water, boats and all that floats

Fond childhood memories
As a lot of other poor sods did, I used to get dragged kicking and screaming to Bridlington in the summer holidays for a weeks sojourn of bad weather, bad food and bad guest house accomadation. One year my father decided that fishing might be fun, so a boat that offered said fishing trip was booked on and early one morning, i was dragged out of bed and press ganged onto something boat shaped that looked as seaworthy as it smelled.
2 hours in, I was horrifically seasick and managed to throw up over my sister, my dad and my cousin, although i was secretly pleased through the nausea that i had chucked up over my father for inflicting this nightmare upon me.
5 hours later we were back in the harbour and the only thing I caught was mumps from my germ ridden cousin. Henceforth an important childhood lesson was learned that boats are a totally loathesome form of transportation. Never had any other positive boat/ferry trip to challenge that belief since.
(Mon 5th Nov 2012, 12:40, More)

» Getting Old

waterworks
How about thinking you have finished straining the spuds and shook the bugger dry yet still managing to piss down your leg little bit when you pop the monster back in the cave.
Never used to happen before.
(Sat 9th Jun 2012, 13:08, More)

» I Hurt My Rude Bits, Again


Once during the school summer holidays, myself and a couple of friends went to the local disused brick quarry with our air guns for some pop can/bottle killing action.
Me and two others had crappy little .177's, my best mate had a .22 rifle
We split up looking for something else to shoot, my friend with the .22 thought it would be funny to play sniper and hide behind an elder tree some distance away and shoot up high at the tree I was standing next to.
The spring in his BSA Meteor wasn't what it used to be and the shot dropped low and got me in the tatey sack. It was some time before I was able to breathe properly and assume an upright posture from the both hands over crotch foetal position I occupied on the quarry floor for apparently over an hour.

I have a worse tale from a former workplace about a past collegue of mine.
Some of the sparkies thought it would a laugh to grab said colleague and apply a wire brush to his knackers in a typical workshop humourous horseplay manner, result was he ended up with a torsion, the knacker died from lack of blood and had to be amputated and replaced with a prosthetic so his sack didnt look embarassingly one sided. It was fucking hilarious for the rest of us.
(Thu 7th Mar 2013, 16:58, More)