Profile for KingboyD:
I'm a serious left-brainer. I was always bad at 'art'. I can't draw to save my life. I haven't posted any pictures yet but when I do, they'll be rubbish. There's no need to tell me they're crap. I already know.
Musically, I'm still living in the 1980s, with the occasional foray into the early 90's. It's sad, but there you go.
I wanted to be a Goth when I was younger, but I didn't have the front for it.
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- a member for 17 years, 5 months and 10 days
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I'm a serious left-brainer. I was always bad at 'art'. I can't draw to save my life. I haven't posted any pictures yet but when I do, they'll be rubbish. There's no need to tell me they're crap. I already know.
Musically, I'm still living in the 1980s, with the occasional foray into the early 90's. It's sad, but there you go.
I wanted to be a Goth when I was younger, but I didn't have the front for it.
Recent front page messages:
none
Best answers to questions:
» Council Cunts
Grrr... council made me a criminal
I'd been living in the same place for five years, paying (begrudingly) the rapidly increasing council tax by Direct Debit.
Two years ago, Mrs. Kingboy and I each received a letter from the council informing us, separately, that the council tax hadn't been paid. I rang them up, explained situation... "ah, ok... don't wory we'll set up another DD for you, ignore the letter".
A few weeks later, we get a letter each, this time from the local Magistrates court. The council are taking us to court for non-payment.
I ring up the council again... the lady is very nice, agrees it's an error, agrees to fix. I'm getting a little twitchy, especially with the courts involved, so rather than let them mess about trying to get direct debits to work, I pay the full amount for the year there and then by debit card).
I have appeased the council and she tells me to ignore the summons from the court, they'll cancel the proceedings and I have nothing to worry about. I go merrily on my way. Big mistake!
A couple of weeks later I get another letter from the court admonishing me for not turning up for my hearing and advising me that the court has found in favour of the council and I'd better pay up sharpish or they'll send Dibble round with some chains.
I ring council in an absolute rage... got a bloke this time, sympathetic, but insists nothing can be done but btw I now have to pay the court fees also.
I've since moved out of the area. Twice.
Cunts!
(Fri 27th Jul 2007, 18:15, More)
Grrr... council made me a criminal
I'd been living in the same place for five years, paying (begrudingly) the rapidly increasing council tax by Direct Debit.
Two years ago, Mrs. Kingboy and I each received a letter from the council informing us, separately, that the council tax hadn't been paid. I rang them up, explained situation... "ah, ok... don't wory we'll set up another DD for you, ignore the letter".
A few weeks later, we get a letter each, this time from the local Magistrates court. The council are taking us to court for non-payment.
I ring up the council again... the lady is very nice, agrees it's an error, agrees to fix. I'm getting a little twitchy, especially with the courts involved, so rather than let them mess about trying to get direct debits to work, I pay the full amount for the year there and then by debit card).
I have appeased the council and she tells me to ignore the summons from the court, they'll cancel the proceedings and I have nothing to worry about. I go merrily on my way. Big mistake!
A couple of weeks later I get another letter from the court admonishing me for not turning up for my hearing and advising me that the court has found in favour of the council and I'd better pay up sharpish or they'll send Dibble round with some chains.
I ring council in an absolute rage... got a bloke this time, sympathetic, but insists nothing can be done but btw I now have to pay the court fees also.
I've since moved out of the area. Twice.
Cunts!
(Fri 27th Jul 2007, 18:15, More)
» Strict Parents
Motorbikes are the tool of Satan
Like many others, my parents banned me from owning or riding a motorbike. My Mum was particularly against it and I sort of got the impression that Dad would have let me, except that Mum would have chopped his todger off if she'd found out. He used to have a bike and I've seen him ride sans-helmet.
Mum's basis for the ban on bikes was do with her fear that I'd end up in kit-form at the side of the road.
Anyway, when I was 16 I couldn't afford to buy or insure a motorbike, so I stuck to my pedal cycle.
When I was a poor student I still couldn't afford to buy a bike, so I slummed it on the bus.
When I finally went out to work, I couldn't afford a car or a bike, so I slummed it on the bus.
My Mum has told every single girlfriend I ever had that I wasn't allowed to ride a motorcycle. And in every case they agreed with her! Grrr...
She formed a pact with my wife, ensuring that the ban would continue well into my thirties! I couldn't even keep a bike under my own roof.
As is nature's way, you can only keep a man away from motorbikes for so long. Eventually, the draw becomes too much. I took and passed my Direct Access test in complete secrecy. And I bought a bike.
Agreed with wife that it was better to keep the parents in the dark, as they'd only worry. Mum comes around to visit and what do I find... wife has dobbed me in and there's Mum sitting on the bike in the garage! I now have her approval - but not Dad's, he's terrified I'll come a cropper. Parents worry too much.
(Fri 9th Mar 2007, 16:43, More)
Motorbikes are the tool of Satan
Like many others, my parents banned me from owning or riding a motorbike. My Mum was particularly against it and I sort of got the impression that Dad would have let me, except that Mum would have chopped his todger off if she'd found out. He used to have a bike and I've seen him ride sans-helmet.
Mum's basis for the ban on bikes was do with her fear that I'd end up in kit-form at the side of the road.
Anyway, when I was 16 I couldn't afford to buy or insure a motorbike, so I stuck to my pedal cycle.
When I was a poor student I still couldn't afford to buy a bike, so I slummed it on the bus.
When I finally went out to work, I couldn't afford a car or a bike, so I slummed it on the bus.
My Mum has told every single girlfriend I ever had that I wasn't allowed to ride a motorcycle. And in every case they agreed with her! Grrr...
She formed a pact with my wife, ensuring that the ban would continue well into my thirties! I couldn't even keep a bike under my own roof.
As is nature's way, you can only keep a man away from motorbikes for so long. Eventually, the draw becomes too much. I took and passed my Direct Access test in complete secrecy. And I bought a bike.
Agreed with wife that it was better to keep the parents in the dark, as they'd only worry. Mum comes around to visit and what do I find... wife has dobbed me in and there's Mum sitting on the bike in the garage! I now have her approval - but not Dad's, he's terrified I'll come a cropper. Parents worry too much.
(Fri 9th Mar 2007, 16:43, More)
» Flirting
I'm married...
... so I flirt with wild abandon - it's the only thrill I get these days. I do it everywhere and Mrs D just thinks I'm odd and that it's harmless fun. I'm not and it is.
I'm at my flirting best on the telephone. I have the perfect face... er, I mean voice for radio. You have to make best use of what you've got, so I take full advantage of my seductive tones and thoroughly enjoy chatting up the ladies.
Occasionally, I've taken it a little far and got myself into trouble with Mrs D.
Unfortunately, I've become addicted and often don't seem to know when I'm doing it. It has now reached the point where Mrs D's outrageously camp gay friend spends longer on the phone to me than he does to her and when he does get to speak to her he asks for rather intimate details about me.
On better days, female callers to my office phone have told me that they found my voice "incredibly sexy", which is always nice.
Of course, this isn't a patch on my pal Alan, whose favourite chat-up line with the ladies is: "Will you have sex with me", whilst simultaneously groping their breasts. Surprisingly, he takes them home more often than he gets slapped in the face. I like to think that maybe they slap him in the face when they get to his house. But I'm just bitter.
(Tue 23rd Feb 2010, 18:16, More)
I'm married...
... so I flirt with wild abandon - it's the only thrill I get these days. I do it everywhere and Mrs D just thinks I'm odd and that it's harmless fun. I'm not and it is.
I'm at my flirting best on the telephone. I have the perfect face... er, I mean voice for radio. You have to make best use of what you've got, so I take full advantage of my seductive tones and thoroughly enjoy chatting up the ladies.
Occasionally, I've taken it a little far and got myself into trouble with Mrs D.
Unfortunately, I've become addicted and often don't seem to know when I'm doing it. It has now reached the point where Mrs D's outrageously camp gay friend spends longer on the phone to me than he does to her and when he does get to speak to her he asks for rather intimate details about me.
On better days, female callers to my office phone have told me that they found my voice "incredibly sexy", which is always nice.
Of course, this isn't a patch on my pal Alan, whose favourite chat-up line with the ladies is: "Will you have sex with me", whilst simultaneously groping their breasts. Surprisingly, he takes them home more often than he gets slapped in the face. I like to think that maybe they slap him in the face when they get to his house. But I'm just bitter.
(Tue 23rd Feb 2010, 18:16, More)
» Council Cunts
I'd hate to work for a council
But it's not much better working for a company that supplies 'stuff' to councils.
A colleague and I had an appointment to see the top brass at a large authority in the West Midlands.
We both arrived a bit early, so we spent the time usefully engaged in some preparation for the meeting. It being the council offices, they wouldn't let us past the foyer until the brass were ready for us, so we found a quiet corner and 'set up shop'.
We weren't there more than a couple of minutes when we received our first customer. A bloke wanted us to help him with something... but we couldn't quite make out what it was he was after. Might have had something to do with the copious quantity of Special Brew we could smell emanating from the guy.
Eventually, we manage to figure out that he's looking for housing, so we helpfully direct him to the big queue that appears to deal with such matters. I swear I could see faces wilt behind the counter... he must be a regular.
A few minutes later our prep was interrupted again by another gentleman, asking what we're doing. I tell him that we don't work for the council and we're just preparing for a meeting. Mistake.
Having opened the door to a conversation, there was now no stopping him. He starts guessing what we're doing. Wild guessing. Nothing at all to do with reality (we were selling the council some widgets). Arts? No. Youth engagement? No. Drug education? No. Social networking for disadvantaged Asian women in the area? What???!?
Seeing our rescuer appear through the "staff only" double-doors we hastily pack away our stuff and back away from the now effervescent gentleman.
At least we don't have to go back there every day.
(Fri 27th Jul 2007, 18:29, More)
I'd hate to work for a council
But it's not much better working for a company that supplies 'stuff' to councils.
A colleague and I had an appointment to see the top brass at a large authority in the West Midlands.
We both arrived a bit early, so we spent the time usefully engaged in some preparation for the meeting. It being the council offices, they wouldn't let us past the foyer until the brass were ready for us, so we found a quiet corner and 'set up shop'.
We weren't there more than a couple of minutes when we received our first customer. A bloke wanted us to help him with something... but we couldn't quite make out what it was he was after. Might have had something to do with the copious quantity of Special Brew we could smell emanating from the guy.
Eventually, we manage to figure out that he's looking for housing, so we helpfully direct him to the big queue that appears to deal with such matters. I swear I could see faces wilt behind the counter... he must be a regular.
A few minutes later our prep was interrupted again by another gentleman, asking what we're doing. I tell him that we don't work for the council and we're just preparing for a meeting. Mistake.
Having opened the door to a conversation, there was now no stopping him. He starts guessing what we're doing. Wild guessing. Nothing at all to do with reality (we were selling the council some widgets). Arts? No. Youth engagement? No. Drug education? No. Social networking for disadvantaged Asian women in the area? What???!?
Seeing our rescuer appear through the "staff only" double-doors we hastily pack away our stuff and back away from the now effervescent gentleman.
At least we don't have to go back there every day.
(Fri 27th Jul 2007, 18:29, More)