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Pavlov's Frog writes: I once spent 20 minutes with my eyes closed to see what it was like being blind. I smashed my knee on the kitchen cupboard, and decided I'd be better off deaf as you can still watch television.

(, Thu 24 Jul 2008, 12:00)
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The Social Experiment…

I have spent virtually my whole life in the laboratory. As a consequence, I have never experienced the very fabric of ‘real life’ that you people take for granted. Recently, I decided to remedy this and go out ‘into the world’.

Of course beforehand, I decided to research the process through the medium of affirmative practical testing, to ensure that my integration in common society would be seamless.

I have recently become particularly fascinated with studying the human effects when a certain hydroxyl group (-OH) is bound to a carbon atom of an alkyl or substituted alkyl group. The general acyclic formula is CnH2n+1OH.

As you are no doubt aware, I’m talking about alcohol.

Now I have never experienced the effects of this substance, either first or second hand, but I have always been curious after reading such wondrous volumes on the subject.

Therefore last Saturday I decided (after preliminary research) to venture out and conduct this controlled conditions social experiment by covertly overseeing activities at the nearby drinking establishment called The ‘Stiff and Mimsy’ Public House.

I was indeed fortunate as I had appeared to choose the very night when some individuals from the local rugby team were holding their weekly meeting.

I had cleverly disguised myself as a normal member of the public by covering my 5ft 2 slender build with my finest purple crushed velvet flares, diamond checked tank-top and my grandfather’s ‘Enola Gay’ kipper tie. I was confident of effortlessly intermingling with the public and, despite some initial looks of bewilderment from the surrounding patrons, I soon settled down to monitor the surrounding environment.

Here are my notes from the experiment:

7:15pm: Some 3 pints each with ‘whisky chasers’ have been consumed by the group. No noticeable differences evident on the subjects other than a slight reddening of faces, an apparent general muttering and complaints. Conversation seems to focus on the following issues: the cost of their beverages, their overall spousal displeasure and a collective willingness to give the barmaid a unit of a certain denomination that I could not quite quantify.

7:25pm: Upon gaining a closer vantage point, it appears that I am in the presence of some wise sages indeed. I overhear stories exchanged of such profits made & female conquests that I begin to realise that I was indeed fortunate to be in the company of such supremely intelligent, successful and sensitive fellows. I make a personal note to consult them in the future on any possible financial or sexual situations that I might encumber.

7:45pm: Conversation is interspersed with bouts of loud, unmelodic singing. Unfortunately I am unable to recognise the composer, or adequately translate the lyrics in their entirety. However, I am impressed not only by the group’s exuberance, but also by their collective knowledge of the activities of a certain ‘Fishmonger’s daughter’. At this juncture I approached Subject ‘A’ (a sweaty, 20st buck-toothed hairy gentleman, height approximately 6ft 4) and asked if he could provide me with the address of the individual in the song. I am promptly instructed to ‘Fuck off, twat-nappy’.

8:00pm: Conversation volume and levels of general profanity have taken a decided increase. Subject ‘A’ now seems incapable of contributing to a conversation without pointing his finger in an aggressive manner and insisting that his fellow protagonists know ‘cock all’

8:15pm: Upon attempting closer inspection on the pupil dilation of subject ‘B’ (a particularly large, heavily tattooed man in an extremely reclined position at the bar), I am asked if I ‘Want some’. When I ask him to clarify exactly what goods or services he is offering, he proceeds to punch me in the face.

8:30pm: Subject ‘C’, a rather burly chap in the gent’s toilets appears to not take too kindly to participating in my peripheral experiment in the affects of alcohol on penis size. When I attempt to enlighten him on my actions and assure him that I only wish to measure his phallus for scientific research, he rebuts my request by knocking my clipboard out of my hand before placing my head into a lavatory bowl and repeatedly slamming the seat onto it.

9:00pm: A stumbling, dribbling Subject ‘D’ puts his arm around me and informs me that I am not only ‘alright’ but I have indeed become his ‘pal’. I decide to capitalise on this new found bond and request an opportunity to get an even closer assessment of the group’s activities.

I subsequently ask the man if I would be 'permitted to penetrate his intimate inner circle’…

9:30pm: I regain consciousness to find myself being flung into various items of furniture by several cheering individuals. From behind the bar, a serving lady wearing heavy make-up advises the group to ‘Leave it, he’s not worth it’, and I am thrown in her general direction. Upon greeting the female, I ask her if her charitable act was with ‘possible amorous intent’. The female then proceeds to grab my hair and force a broken bottle into my eye socket.

9:45pm: I make my way beside two individuals who appear to be competitively engaged to see who can consume the highest volume of something called ‘Ouzo shots’. My request to join their activities is taken quite positively; as it is explained to me that the ‘rules’ of such a competition denote that as a newcomer, I am required to ‘pay for all the drinks’. I am relieved of my Spiderman purse and I am given a seat next to the gentlemen.

9:46pm: My two companions and I are each handed a small glass containing a colourless liquid. They quickly drink their quantities in one mouthful before slamming the empty glasses onto the table. The surrounding group then advise me on my next course of action by collectively and loudly encouraging me to ‘Down it!…Down it!…’

Monday, 4:30 am: I awake to find myself naked, covered in what after closer inspection appears to be someone else’s vomit, and handcuffed to an orang-utan on a cargo plane which is halfway to Jakarta.

No further testing is planned.
(, Fri 25 Jul 2008, 11:33, closed)
Ah Poof
Another wonderful story!
(, Fri 25 Jul 2008, 11:40, closed)
*click*
for best chuckle of the day so far.
(, Fri 25 Jul 2008, 11:48, closed)
Fantastic!
**CLICK!**
(, Fri 25 Jul 2008, 11:53, closed)
Just choked
on my lunch. Will have to wipe desk soon.

Nice one.
(, Fri 25 Jul 2008, 11:56, closed)
I clicked.
At last, someone doing something useful for society.
(, Fri 25 Jul 2008, 12:08, closed)
Pure comic class
*click*
(, Fri 25 Jul 2008, 12:33, closed)
I thought this was just another usual Saturday night.
.
(, Fri 25 Jul 2008, 12:58, closed)
I was warned!
Thanks for the length warning last night (insert obligatory "Ooer mrs" etc..). Truly inspired mon brave!
Now where do we put our rants at the absolute unadulterated shiteness of the performers at last night's "Open mic"?
(, Fri 25 Jul 2008, 13:53, closed)
^^Holy tits on a wobbly block Captain!^^

Those 'artists' last night stunk harder than Satans own capacious ringpiece after a particularly rancid prawn Madras topped with grated cockroach shit.

I weep for the future if those spotty oik wannabes think that the unadulterated armpit that they boked out at us last night qualifies as music.

It took all my collective willpower (and your prominent expertise at keeping my cider levels topped up) to prevent me from ripping those wussy chandeliers out of the ceiling and swinging them at the talentless turds who were so far up their own pretentious arseholes that they could perform their own colonoscopy.

*breathes*
(, Fri 25 Jul 2008, 14:09, closed)

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