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Ticket Please, One Way, Hull

(Mon 24th Mar 2008, 21:42, More)

Eco

(Tue 29th May 2007, 20:34, More)

Best answers to questions:

» Get Rich Quick

I've got a good one
Set up a website - nothing fancy a few funny images, some simple flash games, funny links etc... then ask all your mates to stick their funny images, games, links up. Ask your mates to invite their mates then collect all the good images and links say, once a week, e-mail it to everyone on the website and flog all the ad-space for mucho money-o.

Why hasn't someone thought of this before?
(Sat 2nd Aug 2008, 10:17, More)

» Lurid Work Stories

Not me but a mate has just given me this. Tear to your eye sort of stuff.
I remember one Saturday morning in early autumn, very like this one, a good few years ago, when, in one of my many odd jobs, I had to move a huge amount of those old 3x2 council paving stones with some hulking, silent brute called Frank. It was a back-breaking task, but one which I carried out with the utmost alacrity. Well, I was on a tenner a day! Anyroad, on trip 400 or so to the truck, I ripped off a tremendous fart, with quite alarming ferocity. It really was a cracker, I'm still proud of it to this day. To my surprise, this led to Frank breaking his trappist vow. In the lilting September sun, this huge fella slowly put down his end of the paving flag we were carrying, stood stock still, took off his gloves and stated, in a loud, clear, steady voice "By eck! It's a confident man as does that on a Sat'dee mornin!" I'd never associated farts with confidence before. Me Nan had always referred to them as "letters from shit. To let you know 'e's comin!" However, here Frank stands before me, unwittingly shaking the entire foundations of my world to the core with a simple remark. It was obvious that, when it came to farts, Frank took the more prosaic view. He viewed them as an expression of self-worth, strength, confidence. Frank had provided me with a clear insight into the worldview of blokes, something absent from my upbringing in an all-female household. As this simple, hard-working man put his gloves back on, I'm sure he had no idea that, in many ways, he had played a significant part in my growing up. For one brief, fleeting moment, it felt like I'd had a Father. I owe a lot to Frank and, wherever he is, I wish him well!
(Sat 7th Sep 2013, 14:04, More)

» Neighbours

Neighbours House
There was an abandoned house next door. One miserable night the alarm started going off. It was about 1am, Dad was up for work at six so he wasn't best pleased. Fed up, my Dad gets his ladders (actually they belonged to next dooor, t'other side, but spent most of their lives in our yard a la Simpson/Flanders) he climbs up them, and with great precision and a lack of any electrical experience begins to dismantle the alarm box. Police drive by very slowly, stop and sit there watching... cue gust of wind lifting my dads dressing gown... God knows what they thought but they very quickly drove on.

Length... dunno, I wasn't footing the ladder.
(Fri 2nd Oct 2009, 11:29, More)

» Well, that taught 'em

Balls to you!
At school I wasn't very sporty, I was fit but didn't like school sports. I hated playing football, my two left feet made it impossible for me to kick a ball in anything near a straight line. I was however not too bad in defence, I had a habbit of just getting in peoples way, doing their ankles in and messing up a carefully planned attack.

One time I was picked for the team with the absolute arse-head of the entire year. Lets call him 'Dummo'. Dummo was one of those cocky bastards who thought he was a one man football team, full of himself and a thoroughly unpleasant guy to be around. So he gives us all positions, I mention that i'm slightly better in defence than in goal and point out the obvious that a 5'4" runt like meself isn't too good in a full size goal. So the stupid bastard puts me in goal, I'm really pissed.

The game begins, Dummo is running up and down the field like a rutting gazelle. Showing off his ball skills, forgetting that he has 10 other players on the team. I stand in the middle of the goal blissfully unaware of what is going on.

Suddenly I hear my name called, Dummo is hurtling down the pitch, red faced and screaming obscenities at me. I look down and see about 10 yards away the ball rolling gently across the grass towards my goal.

I could have stopped it with my foot. I could have sneezed heavily and the bloody thing would have stopped. I saw this, saw how angry Dummo was and made my move.

I waited until the second the ball had passed the line before collapsing sideways in a mock-dive. Cue a round of applause from the entire team and Dummo raging like an angry frog. Turns out everyone else hated him as well.

Length? Just over the line.
(Tue 1st May 2007, 0:14, More)

» School Trips

Stupid Fooker
I remember on one A-Level biology field trip we played a right corker on the teach.

We were on sand dunes, how marram grass can withstand harsh enviroment etc...

Just before the minibus left my friend and I dug up one of the pansies in the headmasters flowerbed, when we got to the beach we replanted it on the top of the dune. Cue us calling the smart-arse botanist biology teacher and him wracking his brains to try and explain how a pansie can survive on top of a dune. Wanker.
(Fri 8th Dec 2006, 13:20, More)
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