Despite having very dark hair
My facial hair is ginger in places. It only becomes noticible if left to grow out a bit, but it still bothers me that I'll never be able to grow a full man-beard without looking like some kind of freak hybrid.

It's a disability that I've been coming to terms with for some time now. My hope is that one day I'll be able to overcome it and be able to live a full and happy life.
(TheManWithThePlan cussed your mum on, Thu 25 Feb 2010, 13:39, 7 replies)

Gingers! Sectioned! Lazy! Racist!
Before I begin, I want to stress that I am not ginger. I am pale and lightly freckled, but not ginger.

I have, however, got ginger friends (in fact, of our sales management team of five, three are ginger, and one is me [ginger-skinned, apparently]). On a number of occasions we've had a lot of fun (although one has been sectioned [unrelated to gingerness]). On one memorable occasion, we

Actually, do you know what?

I can't be bothered. Fuck it. Why make a long post about a ginger friend, or ginger comments, when gingerness didn't directly affect anything?

Maybe next week we can have

Blacks! Are you black? Do you know any blacks? Can you see them in the dark if they aren't smiling?

or

Asians! Do they all own sweetshops?

or

Chinese! Are they all cat-eating sweatshop owners?

I mean, guys, come on! Why have a suggestion board if we never use it?
( disasterprone "Pyjamas caused the Holocaust", Thu 25 Feb 2010, 13:35, 2 replies)

Worst nickname
I have managed to acquire the most ridiculous nickname.

The Ginger Binger

The problem with this is that I am not or have ever been red-headed.

It was given to me by a girl who I met on a blind date that had been shown some photos of me beforehand by a friend. Apparently I looked ginger in these photos (no one sees this but her as my hair is the darkest of brown, and I'm quite impressed that she still showed up to the date if this was the case). My tales of excessive drinking led to her jokingly calling me the ginger binger. I never met her again.

I foolishly told my best friend this when describing the date.

And it stuck. It became GingeBinge, GBinge and now is just GB. Our 5-a-side football team is even called 'Team GB'. The olympics are a fucking nightmare for me.

Explaining this to new people we meet is a terrible chore and they still don't understand.

I don't even understand.

I'm having to live the life of a ginge without even suffering the affliction.
( Regger, Thu 25 Feb 2010, 13:34, 1 reply)

Over the past few months I've been writing a book of children's stories aimed at a more adult audience
and have been wondering about the best way to gauge reaction to them. This seems like a good opportunity since I have written a story that seems to fit. I'll apologise for length in advance and leave this here:

Once upon an old oak tree, in the centre of the wood,
A small red squirrel collected food as quickly as he could,
Running through the undergrowth, amid the woodland floor,
The squirrel worked for hours a day to build his winter store.

Every morning he would wake to the chorus of the dawn,
Sit up in his squirrel bed, and give a squirrel yawn,
He’d spend all day collecting acorns fallen through the night,
And store them in his squirrel pantry safely out of sight.

All through the autumn months the industrious squirrel worked,
Whilst in the upper branches, five grey squirrels smirked,
And while he toiled collecting food, they kept him in their vision,
Shouting insults from the tree in torment and derision.

“Hey Duracell!” they cried “You stupid ginger twat,
There’s plenty of food everywhere, why are you doing that?”
“Hey Coppertop” they heckled “The wood is our canteen”
But the squirrel just ignored them, and carried out the same routine.

Perturbed, but not put off by this, the gang’s hatred they conveyed,
“What’s the difference between a brick and a ginger?...The ginger can’t get laid”
The jokes were never ending, a torrent of abuse,
But still he just ignored them, their gags were of no use.

Annoyed at getting no reaction from their witty parlance,
They started aiming nuts at him, resorting now to violence,
They’d throw them at him viciously then run and get some more,
But the squirrel would just thank them, and take the nuts to store.

Preparation, he thought was key to prove his worldly worth,
So every year when leaves would brown and wither to the earth,
He sensed that snow was on its way, that winter would roll round,
That’s why he stored and hid away his food deep underground.

He knew the trees although now ripe would soon be stripped lain bare,
That the canopy of leaves; his shelter, soon would not be there,
And when the cold hard frosted ground, the woodland stark and bleak
Then they’d know why he had worked, so hard for week on week,

The gang were getting sick and tired of his chirpy way,
They put on hood disguises, a sort of squirrel KKK,
They couldn’t stand our red head friend; they launched a hate campaign,
By pissing on him from a tree; unleashing yellow rain.

They set fire to leaves beneath his tree, wrote insults on his door with shite
Pressed his bell and ran away, rung him at all times of night,
They played loud music near his home to keep him wide awake,
They harassed him every hour of day, just hoping that he’d break.


With their minds set on such hatred, and a chip lodged on their shoulder,
It took quite a while to realise that the wood had got much colder,
The cornucopia that once had been, to seasons had been lost,
And fallen leaves and woodland fruits had withered in the frost.

The gang took off their hoods and looked about the scene,
The ground was now as hard as ice, the tree’s had been stripped clean,
They realised the red squirrel had been right, their view was now imbued,
Not through some moral enlightenment but a lack of sleep and food.

For days the squirrels foraged throughout the woodland floor,
Wishing they’d planned for winter and made their own nut store,
And all the while the small red squirrel sat by his twiggy fire,
With more food than he’d ever need in his whole life entire.

While he slept warmly in his home the gang did all it could,
Just to try and stay alive in a now harsh winter wood,
At night they’d huddle all together to try and stave of cold,
And wished they’d listened more to what red squirrel had foretold.

One day as snow began to fall and one of their party died,
They realised that they needed help; they each swallowed their pride,
The red squirrel was now their only hope, he’d help them, they were sure,
And so heads bowed, and cap in hand they turned up at his door.

With gown and pipe the squirrel stood tall in his door frame,
A picture of preparedness, but of sheer and cold distain,
He looked at the gang now pathetic but still a prejudice disgrace,
And so he smirked at their suffering, and slammed the door right in their face.

Like an impotent mallard he couldn’t have given a flying fuck,
He laughed and watched them struggle as they shivered and they shook,
And as they each one died he chuckled, his heart as black as coal,
The lesson here’s a simple one…that gingers have no soul.
( Furness, Thu 25 Feb 2010, 13:33, 2 replies)

My Nephew...
is a complete carrot top.

On a recent visit to Uganda, I photographed a town sign just outside of Kampala.

I stuck it on a 'social website' tagging him.
The sign said "JINJA"
(bof, Thu 25 Feb 2010, 13:32, Reply)

To technically answer correctly,
I was born ginger. It all fell out after three days though, and didn't grow back for two years. When it did come back, it was white blonde. These days, it's pillarbox red.

Thrilling, eh?
(Beacon, Thu 25 Feb 2010, 13:31, 1 reply)

THIS QOTW IS RACIST !!!
Gingers are people too, you know !!!

And in years to come they might even be allowed to vote, reproduce, drive cars, have bank accounts and wear cloths, just like us normal people...
( SpankyHanky, Thu 25 Feb 2010, 13:31, 4 replies)

I Went Out With A Redhead Once.

No arms, legs or torso - just this big, red, head.

It didn't last.

Cheers
( Legless Mister Stabby - shanks for the memory, Thu 25 Feb 2010, 13:26, 3 replies)

hmm well ok...
I am ginger but I can't say that I have any exciting tales to tell about it. Yes I got called a variety of names (combined with a comedy surname, which I won't be revealing) over the years and yes I get fucked off cos I burn in mere minutes if I go out in the sun.

I will be impressed if somone actually manages, during the course of this QOTW, to come up with a joke or insult that has not been heard by myself or my fellow gingers before.

[Edit]oh yes and what is the obsession with collar and cuffs, what bloody colour do you expect it to be?

*wanders off to listen to David Devant....
(cmouse is pondering about life in other jobs, Thu 25 Feb 2010, 13:25, 1 reply)

Thinking about it...
And this isn't something I've ever been in a position to prove, but a bloke down my local has a theory about ladies with ginger hair.

He reckons you get the most attention between the sheets from women with red-hair and that they are far more eager to please than any other lady-type.

His thinking? 'Well, most gingers never know where the next fuck is coming from, so they'll go out of their way to do anything for you'

Bloke down my local? About 60, single and, I'd guess, a virgin.
( JeffTheDogFucker Can you dig it?, Thu 25 Feb 2010, 13:25, 1 reply)

Bouncer kryptonite
The younger brother of a mate has this as his facebook status:

"is there anyone ginger that can lend me their ID for tomorrow night?"


Evidently, bouncers can't see passed the gingerness.
( Regger, Thu 25 Feb 2010, 13:23, Reply)

I think
THIS says it best.
( Seventh is somewhat subdued, Thu 25 Feb 2010, 13:21, 5 replies)

School days...
Joining our Bristolian primary school was a lad, a ginger lad, called Dave who'd moved to the West Country with (unsurprisingly) his family.

He had a strong Newcastle accent.

So, for 3 years life was never dull, if you were a bit bored, or if you fancied watching a kid cry, all you had put on your best attempt at a North East accent and say.

'Oi! Dave, ya hairs on fire!'

Reading that back, I'm guessing you needed to be there, and you needed to be about 10 years old as well, but trust me. At the time, it was funny.

Hmm.
( JeffTheDogFucker Can you dig it?, Thu 25 Feb 2010, 13:21, Reply)

Please God don't let this just turn into ginger jokes.
I have a feeling this may not be a vintage QOTW, but I'll have a think and see what I can come up with...
( disasterprone "Pyjamas caused the Holocaust", Thu 25 Feb 2010, 13:21, Reply)

Do the powers that be even look at the suggestions thread?
Another long dull week it is, then. See yers at OT!
(The Boy Monders I have ginger bits in my beard., Thu 25 Feb 2010, 13:17, 2 replies)

My Dad
...had a hint of ginger, mostly at the temples and in his 'tache, which seemed to become more pronounced as he got older.

However, to spare his feelings, his barber, Roger, always used to tell him it was a hint of blonde, which my dad happily accepted.

This caused me and my mum amusement, as we could take every opportunity to refer to his blonde-ness ...

'Have you got your sunscreen on Dad, because blonde people like you burn easily, don't they?'
'Dad, have you got any Scandinavian blood in you? You know - with being so blonde and all?'
...and when he cocked anything up 'Having a blonde moment?'

He mostly ignored it until one night on holiday when we were sat in a bar in Tenerife and had been making jokes about a really ginger woman sat a few tables away being his sister. He supped his pint in silence until he thought we'd finished, then tried to change the tack of conversation.

'Right, if you've finished, shall we have another drink'
'Ooo, yeah alright... I fancy a whisky and ginger... and Snowy will have a ginger beer...'

At which he stood up, picked up his wallet, and shouted

'I am NOT - FUCKING - GINGER... Alright?'

And started to make his way out of the bar through tables of stunned holiday-makers.

As he passed the ginger woman he suddenly realised everyone had taken notice, and in a tender gesture of conciliation, he patted her on the shoulder and said 'No offence, like, love', at which point Mum and I cracked up again.

I think he was secretly grateful when he finally went totally grey.
(SnowyTheWereRabbit the Leporid from Hell, Thu 25 Feb 2010, 13:15, 3 replies)

I'm not a Ginger
But I work with a guy who is. Fair play to him, he wears his affliction proudly. Grown his hair long and has a beard. Wears a lot of black. He looks like you could hoist him aloft with a pitchfork in the other hand and raid Castle Frankenstein
(Darth Foxtrot A one-man army dedicated to making fetch happen, Thu 25 Feb 2010, 13:15, Reply)

I can't see this QOTW
reaching 4 pages.
( sandettie light vessel automatic New Twitter - @bollocksreally, Thu 25 Feb 2010, 13:13, 4 replies)

Yes.
I have red hair and know people who have red hair.

Do I win a prize?
( Blue Star was working part time at the 5 and Dime, Thu 25 Feb 2010, 13:13, Reply)

My ex had a ginger afro
It started as a ginger buzz when we met, and gradually got longer and longer for a few years, puffing out on its way. He liked the attention from me it gave him, but hated any other attention for it, being a shyer one than average.

I have two favourite moments from this:

A completely off his face guy in his 40s on the rall replacement bus on the way home from a festival, walking across the bus just to come and congratulate him on his hair. He kept shaking his hand, and saying "look, that is amazing. Don't ever let anyone take it off you." and repeating that statement while rephrasing, while getting more and more drunk, then promptly falling flat on his face getting off the bus, only to scrabble back up to wave goodbye to "the afro".

Going to the Boots counter to get headlice treatment (it happens, and unfortunately my mother works in a nursery so it's even more likely) and the guy on the counter, with his own (non-ginger) afro points and says "dude, your hair is *awesome*!"
(mmmm curry doesn't really understand this sig lark, Thu 25 Feb 2010, 13:13, 2 replies)

yes, i do know someone with ginger hair

( Lightguy hail satan, Thu 25 Feb 2010, 13:10, 3 replies)

Yes. I was a ginger baby.
Fortunately my parents didn't drown me at birth. Sadly, I have no horrific tales to tell, possibly because in the tiny Norn Irish village where I grew up, red hair is commonplace. Also, ginger taunts have little effect when you can point out that the antagoniser's parents were cousins and they don't even own a decent tractor.
( crackhouseceilidhband Fuck off back to Mumsnet, Thu 25 Feb 2010, 13:06, 4 replies)

My poor old dad
My dad's the middle child of 5 and thankfully for him he's the only one without ginger hair.

Both his older sisters and his two younger sisters have bright flaming ginger hair and were all subjected to the usual name calling and bullying by other children that tends to happen to those copper headed folk.

My dad was always glad he never had to experience any of this, although he did get the shit kicked out of him a few times for wearing his older siblings hand-me-downs...
(Wooden meal is. Or is he?, Thu 25 Feb 2010, 13:05, Reply)

There was that ginger bloke who set up an irreverent comedy website.
I wonder whatever happened to him?
( Davros' Granddad a voice of calm reason in a world of spastics., Thu 25 Feb 2010, 13:02, 2 replies)

What do you call a ginger prostitue?
Orange, Pay As You Go.
( JeffTheDogFucker Can you dig it?, Thu 25 Feb 2010, 13:00, 6 replies)

prepare for 100
rusty roof, smelly garage

comments
(Halfy By light alone, Thu 25 Feb 2010, 12:58, 4 replies)

I've dyed my hair red
I was going through a period of self-loathing and self-mutilation, so I figured ginger was the way to go.
(Ghost Atreides enjoying incontestable health benefits on, Thu 25 Feb 2010, 12:57, Reply)

I don't.
It's black and curly. But I dye it red as it looks nicer!
(ToysForBigBoys would spread her legs for Nick Clegg., Thu 25 Feb 2010, 12:56, 1 reply)

First?
Ginger?
( Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Thu 25 Feb 2010, 12:56, Reply)