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- a member for 18 years, 2 months and 6 days
- has posted 33 messages on the main board
- has posted 6 messages on the talk board
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- has posted 64 stories and 21 replies on question of the week
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» Airport Stories
I was traumatised for life
Last year In an act of desperation I took a contract job in Saudi Arabia. After hearing all sorts of rumours I was pretty worried especially with the security situation. The Marriott had concrete posts outside to protect against bombers, there were machine gun check points everywhere and a small square outside the hotel where they would behead people on a Friday. All in all I was pretty glad to get back to the airport. The taxi driver on the way back pointed out the power pylons that al-qaeda had blown up the week before and at the airport there were seperate facilities for women and a regular "wailer" every hour at prayer time. By now I was pretty nervous, and felt the need to releive my poor bowels big time. After running to the toilet cubicle and giving the bowl a good splattering I noticed one of those bubbler pipe things that you see in arab markets. Wow. These Saudis sure know how to relax and have just gone up in my cultural estimation. Relax, take a dump and a smoke. Heaven. I picked up the pipe, put it to my lips and with a contented sigh pressed the lever and took a good deep breath.
Fucksox. I nearly choked and drowned as my lungs filled with the shitty water from some arabs crap box. These fucking things are for washing your ass. It took me nearly two hours to stop urging and I have never been back to the middle east since.
(Sat 4th Mar 2006, 9:07, More)
I was traumatised for life
Last year In an act of desperation I took a contract job in Saudi Arabia. After hearing all sorts of rumours I was pretty worried especially with the security situation. The Marriott had concrete posts outside to protect against bombers, there were machine gun check points everywhere and a small square outside the hotel where they would behead people on a Friday. All in all I was pretty glad to get back to the airport. The taxi driver on the way back pointed out the power pylons that al-qaeda had blown up the week before and at the airport there were seperate facilities for women and a regular "wailer" every hour at prayer time. By now I was pretty nervous, and felt the need to releive my poor bowels big time. After running to the toilet cubicle and giving the bowl a good splattering I noticed one of those bubbler pipe things that you see in arab markets. Wow. These Saudis sure know how to relax and have just gone up in my cultural estimation. Relax, take a dump and a smoke. Heaven. I picked up the pipe, put it to my lips and with a contented sigh pressed the lever and took a good deep breath.
Fucksox. I nearly choked and drowned as my lungs filled with the shitty water from some arabs crap box. These fucking things are for washing your ass. It took me nearly two hours to stop urging and I have never been back to the middle east since.
(Sat 4th Mar 2006, 9:07, More)
» That's me on TV!
Dragon's Den take 2
By popular demand I will expand on my previous post.
I developed a revolutionary system for the intensive indoor farming of Australian crayfish.
I shit you not.
My highlights include, but were not limited to:
- Duncan Banantyne arguing he knew that restaurants would not wish to buy live crayfish but frozen ones. He should know, he quipped, as he owned a restaurant. Until I pointed out that his chef was one of my customers.
- Deborah "don't call me Debs" Meaden who was out for ethical reasons and said at the end "You came for an investment but turned out to be a bit of a wet fish", to which I replied "No, I came here to see dragons and only found pussycats"
- The foppish-haired Australian one that pointed out transport would be "an issue" and didn't like me informing him that they had been shipped from Brisbane a week earlier courtesy of Singapore Airlines, been down to Cornwall for a few days to recoup before heading to London with me on a train and being cooked by a Michellin starred chef that morning before heading to the studio in a taxi.
Unsuprisingly I was cut to about 15 seconds. I stand by my previous comments - they are all cunts.
(Thu 11th Jun 2009, 18:08, More)
Dragon's Den take 2
By popular demand I will expand on my previous post.
I developed a revolutionary system for the intensive indoor farming of Australian crayfish.
I shit you not.
My highlights include, but were not limited to:
- Duncan Banantyne arguing he knew that restaurants would not wish to buy live crayfish but frozen ones. He should know, he quipped, as he owned a restaurant. Until I pointed out that his chef was one of my customers.
- Deborah "don't call me Debs" Meaden who was out for ethical reasons and said at the end "You came for an investment but turned out to be a bit of a wet fish", to which I replied "No, I came here to see dragons and only found pussycats"
- The foppish-haired Australian one that pointed out transport would be "an issue" and didn't like me informing him that they had been shipped from Brisbane a week earlier courtesy of Singapore Airlines, been down to Cornwall for a few days to recoup before heading to London with me on a train and being cooked by a Michellin starred chef that morning before heading to the studio in a taxi.
Unsuprisingly I was cut to about 15 seconds. I stand by my previous comments - they are all cunts.
(Thu 11th Jun 2009, 18:08, More)
» Other people's diaries
Oh god, no
Not really paper diary stuff but more contents of hard drive stuff.
After twatting round the world as a jumped up consultant I slipped into semi retirement in the Peoples Republic of Cornwall and got me a little computer shop. Pint, pasty and an easy life.
Anyhow, part of my "services" to the local retardery (pedants are particularly welcome to "fuck off" at any lexical or syntactical errors) was to copy the contents of their old hard drive over to their new, inferior quality yet overpriced PC.
My favourite inbreds, in no particular order, include:
- Mr. "X". A 78 year old gentlemen who, after asking me to help download the contents of a digital camera he had bought from me, glossed over the images of his ancient yet hairy and slightly rancid balls sticking out the side of an electric pink thong.
- Mrs. "Y" who took it on herself to sue me for placing copious amounts of pornography on her partners computer whilst it was in for repair. The judge saw the funny side however when I pointed out that the person wearing the lingerie in many of the pictures was indeed Mr. "Y", a noteable transvestite of this parish, and several emails in his Outlook Express were from his "partner" whom he was arranging to meet at the local glory hole.
- Mr. "Z". A particularly ingenious Chav who had kindly photographed all his stolen booty to put on ebay and placed it in "c:\nicked", including three pictures of the camcorder I had stolen from my shop two weeks earlier.
- Mr. "mongthemerciless". An irate computer shop owner that uploaded copious amounts of donkey cock to a chav's PC before calling the police and pointing out its illegal nature.
The amount of husband/wife pron and saucy emails in Outlook was ridiculous.
Loads of length and girth there.
(Mon 5th Feb 2007, 18:27, More)
Oh god, no
Not really paper diary stuff but more contents of hard drive stuff.
After twatting round the world as a jumped up consultant I slipped into semi retirement in the Peoples Republic of Cornwall and got me a little computer shop. Pint, pasty and an easy life.
Anyhow, part of my "services" to the local retardery (pedants are particularly welcome to "fuck off" at any lexical or syntactical errors) was to copy the contents of their old hard drive over to their new, inferior quality yet overpriced PC.
My favourite inbreds, in no particular order, include:
- Mr. "X". A 78 year old gentlemen who, after asking me to help download the contents of a digital camera he had bought from me, glossed over the images of his ancient yet hairy and slightly rancid balls sticking out the side of an electric pink thong.
- Mrs. "Y" who took it on herself to sue me for placing copious amounts of pornography on her partners computer whilst it was in for repair. The judge saw the funny side however when I pointed out that the person wearing the lingerie in many of the pictures was indeed Mr. "Y", a noteable transvestite of this parish, and several emails in his Outlook Express were from his "partner" whom he was arranging to meet at the local glory hole.
- Mr. "Z". A particularly ingenious Chav who had kindly photographed all his stolen booty to put on ebay and placed it in "c:\nicked", including three pictures of the camcorder I had stolen from my shop two weeks earlier.
- Mr. "mongthemerciless". An irate computer shop owner that uploaded copious amounts of donkey cock to a chav's PC before calling the police and pointing out its illegal nature.
The amount of husband/wife pron and saucy emails in Outlook was ridiculous.
Loads of length and girth there.
(Mon 5th Feb 2007, 18:27, More)
» I'm going to Hell...
Jesus and I love you....
During my corporate period I used to travel to Salt Lake City in Utah quite a bit, the home of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints - or "The Mormons". They never ceased to amaze me. Always at the airport there were groups of ten or twenty immaculately dressed young people about to set out on their wonderful missionary journeys. Apparently it is a requirement of the church. All with those little "elder" badges on, which is a joke as they are all less than 25.
Anyway, being Brits abroad and up for some mischief, a nameless friend and myself decided to go and visit the "temple", which is the god cental of the LDS.
I have never been forcefully manhandled from a house of god before by hired goons but I guess two brits in formal suits, bowler hats and armed with umbrellas on a "mission" from the Church of England and there to tell them about the benefits of divorce and only the one wife didn't go down well. The "elder x" and "even elder y" (me, being the oldest) C of E badges didn't help either. We looked like the Thompson twins from the Tintin stories.
Those little fuckers, think they can come over here and ruin my Sunday afternoon with their cheerful smile, irritating politeness and good news about Jesus. Don't like it when it is done to them though do they eh????
(Thu 11th Dec 2008, 15:00, More)
Jesus and I love you....
During my corporate period I used to travel to Salt Lake City in Utah quite a bit, the home of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints - or "The Mormons". They never ceased to amaze me. Always at the airport there were groups of ten or twenty immaculately dressed young people about to set out on their wonderful missionary journeys. Apparently it is a requirement of the church. All with those little "elder" badges on, which is a joke as they are all less than 25.
Anyway, being Brits abroad and up for some mischief, a nameless friend and myself decided to go and visit the "temple", which is the god cental of the LDS.
I have never been forcefully manhandled from a house of god before by hired goons but I guess two brits in formal suits, bowler hats and armed with umbrellas on a "mission" from the Church of England and there to tell them about the benefits of divorce and only the one wife didn't go down well. The "elder x" and "even elder y" (me, being the oldest) C of E badges didn't help either. We looked like the Thompson twins from the Tintin stories.
Those little fuckers, think they can come over here and ruin my Sunday afternoon with their cheerful smile, irritating politeness and good news about Jesus. Don't like it when it is done to them though do they eh????
(Thu 11th Dec 2008, 15:00, More)
» Being told off as an adult
Talking stick...
That pen thing reminds me of when I worked in the NHS. Fuck me, what a bunch of easily offended lefties that lot are.
Whilst at a rather heated meeting where everyone clearly didn't want to make a decision for fear of offending anyone else I got told "look, I have the pen its my turn to talk. It's your turn to listen. We have all been patient and listened to you so please be quiet and respect my time"
To which I replied "I earn twenty grand more than you so my gold fucking plated fountain pen trumps your plastic biro now make a fucking decision or we will all be here till Christmas"
I have never seen so many women so shocked. One ran off in tears, several hugged each other and one gave me a stern lecture on womens rights and how I was a male abuser.
(Thu 20th Sep 2007, 22:04, More)
Talking stick...
That pen thing reminds me of when I worked in the NHS. Fuck me, what a bunch of easily offended lefties that lot are.
Whilst at a rather heated meeting where everyone clearly didn't want to make a decision for fear of offending anyone else I got told "look, I have the pen its my turn to talk. It's your turn to listen. We have all been patient and listened to you so please be quiet and respect my time"
To which I replied "I earn twenty grand more than you so my gold fucking plated fountain pen trumps your plastic biro now make a fucking decision or we will all be here till Christmas"
I have never seen so many women so shocked. One ran off in tears, several hugged each other and one gave me a stern lecture on womens rights and how I was a male abuser.
(Thu 20th Sep 2007, 22:04, More)