What has your "friend" been up to?
Discussion
BigMon said:
Breadvan72 said:
The journey home was slow, but uneventful, but on arriving home my friend entered into some discussions with his wife. Those discussions are still occurring, two days later.
Are the discussions revolving about your friend's exquisite taste for aged machinery, and maybe her giving suggestions for what he should buy next?Breadvan72 said:
BigMon said:
Breadvan72 said:
The journey home was slow, but uneventful, but on arriving home my friend entered into some discussions with his wife. Those discussions are still occurring, two days later.
Are the discussions revolving about your friend's exquisite taste for aged machinery, and maybe her giving suggestions for what he should buy next?Blown2CV said:
p4cks said:
My friend once had a s
t in the lift of a DFDS ferry from Newcastle to Amsterdam having necked a litre of vodka, and got caught.
He never did know how he was caught.
i'm going to say CCTV, which is pretty common in lifts... or do i deserve a whoosht in the lift of a DFDS ferry from Newcastle to Amsterdam having necked a litre of vodka, and got caught. He never did know how he was caught.
p4cks said:
Blown2CV said:
p4cks said:
My friend once had a st in the lift of a DFDS ferry from Newcastle to Amsterdam having necked a litre of vodka, and got caught.
He never did know how he was caught.
i'm going to say CCTV, which is pretty common in lifts... or do i deserve a whoosht in the lift of a DFDS ferry from Newcastle to Amsterdam having necked a litre of vodka, and got caught. He never did know how he was caught.
tting in lift on DFDS ferry from newcastle to amsterdam"?
Blown2CV said:
p4cks said:
Blown2CV said:
p4cks said:
My friend once had a st in the lift of a DFDS ferry from Newcastle to Amsterdam having necked a litre of vodka, and got caught.
He never did know how he was caught.
i'm going to say CCTV, which is pretty common in lifts... or do i deserve a whoosht in the lift of a DFDS ferry from Newcastle to Amsterdam having necked a litre of vodka, and got caught. He never did know how he was caught.
tting in lift on DFDS ferry from newcastle to amsterdam"?p4cks said:
Blown2CV said:
p4cks said:
Blown2CV said:
p4cks said:
My friend once had a st in the lift of a DFDS ferry from Newcastle to Amsterdam having necked a litre of vodka, and got caught.
He never did know how he was caught.
i'm going to say CCTV, which is pretty common in lifts... or do i deserve a whoosht in the lift of a DFDS ferry from Newcastle to Amsterdam having necked a litre of vodka, and got caught. He never did know how he was caught.
tting in lift on DFDS ferry from newcastle to amsterdam"?Blown2CV said:
p4cks said:
Blown2CV said:
p4cks said:
Blown2CV said:
p4cks said:
My friend once had a st in the lift of a DFDS ferry from Newcastle to Amsterdam having necked a litre of vodka, and got caught.
He never did know how he was caught.
i'm going to say CCTV, which is pretty common in lifts... or do i deserve a whoosht in the lift of a DFDS ferry from Newcastle to Amsterdam having necked a litre of vodka, and got caught. He never did know how he was caught.
tting in lift on DFDS ferry from newcastle to amsterdam"?Oh and even the doorman (geordies) had a laugh with him.
Happy days, for my mate.
I have a friend who thinks this is the right place that he should explain what happened those many years ago....why...well
These events took place at a wedding in between Reading and Basingstoke on the a33. The Groom was English and the Bride Korean. The wedding was great fun but never really "kicked off" partially as half the attendees did not speak English. My friend particularly remembered cheering drunkenly whenever the Korean speech sounded like it had a joke in it, and then drinking.
Anyway, I had a great time and the point that interests us about my friend is that, in a small pub hotel.restaurant on the A33 in about 1998 at 2 am he declared to another friend after drinking Spanish brandy out of tea cups that it was time for a snack that he would get one from the kitchen, so off he went, as it was 2am and the kitchen was closed; there would surely be something edible....
It seems that said friend was to be found liberally smearing butter on his testicles at the sandwich making bar of this small hotel/pub on the a34. Having turned on the lights in the kitchen, all of the night staff had turned up en mass. My friend's friend had decided that he had been missing for too long so tried to find him.
My friend has been told that there was a moment when both the hotel staff and my friend's friend stood in horror watching my friend baste his boy parts in the available yellow spread. It seems that there was quite a moment of standoff as both parties stared at my friend whilst he continued lubricating his gentleman's vegetables with the condiments arranged before him.
This is the point at which my friends memory kicks in and he remembers rapidly tucking in his greasy plums and retreating hastily up the back stairs to his room. He remembers saying "It's ok, I am leaving"
My friend was distraught by the cold reception he received at breakfast and whilst paying his bill. It was only during lunch at the George and Dragon in Wargrave later that he was reminded about his testicle buttering of the previous evening,
My friend presumes that he cannot be identified from this story, although all his mates never let him forget about it, and his wife always asks....."why??????" and he has no idea.
These events took place at a wedding in between Reading and Basingstoke on the a33. The Groom was English and the Bride Korean. The wedding was great fun but never really "kicked off" partially as half the attendees did not speak English. My friend particularly remembered cheering drunkenly whenever the Korean speech sounded like it had a joke in it, and then drinking.
Anyway, I had a great time and the point that interests us about my friend is that, in a small pub hotel.restaurant on the A33 in about 1998 at 2 am he declared to another friend after drinking Spanish brandy out of tea cups that it was time for a snack that he would get one from the kitchen, so off he went, as it was 2am and the kitchen was closed; there would surely be something edible....
It seems that said friend was to be found liberally smearing butter on his testicles at the sandwich making bar of this small hotel/pub on the a34. Having turned on the lights in the kitchen, all of the night staff had turned up en mass. My friend's friend had decided that he had been missing for too long so tried to find him.
My friend has been told that there was a moment when both the hotel staff and my friend's friend stood in horror watching my friend baste his boy parts in the available yellow spread. It seems that there was quite a moment of standoff as both parties stared at my friend whilst he continued lubricating his gentleman's vegetables with the condiments arranged before him.
This is the point at which my friends memory kicks in and he remembers rapidly tucking in his greasy plums and retreating hastily up the back stairs to his room. He remembers saying "It's ok, I am leaving"
My friend was distraught by the cold reception he received at breakfast and whilst paying his bill. It was only during lunch at the George and Dragon in Wargrave later that he was reminded about his testicle buttering of the previous evening,
My friend presumes that he cannot be identified from this story, although all his mates never let him forget about it, and his wife always asks....."why??????" and he has no idea.
BenjiA said:
I have a friend who thinks this is the right place that he should explain what happened those many years ago....why...well
These events took place at a wedding in between Reading and Basingstoke on the a33. The Groom was English and the Bride Korean. The wedding was great fun but never really "kicked off" partially as half the attendees did not speak English. My friend particularly remembered cheering drunkenly whenever the Korean speech sounded like it had a joke in it, and then drinking.
Anyway, I had a great time and the point that interests us about my friend is that, in a small pub hotel.restaurant on the A33 in about 1998 at 2 am he declared to another friend after drinking Spanish brandy out of tea cups that it was time for a snack that he would get one from the kitchen, so off he went, as it was 2am and the kitchen was closed; there would surely be something edible....
It seems that said friend was to be found liberally smearing butter on his testicles at the sandwich making bar of this small hotel/pub on the a34. Having turned on the lights in the kitchen, all of the night staff had turned up en mass. My friend's friend had decided that he had been missing for too long so tried to find him.
My friend has been told that there was a moment when both the hotel staff and my friend's friend stood in horror watching my friend baste his boy parts in the available yellow spread. It seems that there was quite a moment of standoff as both parties stared at my friend whilst he continued lubricating his gentleman's vegetables with the condiments arranged before him.
This is the point at which my friends memory kicks in and he remembers rapidly tucking in his greasy plums and retreating hastily up the back stairs to his room. He remembers saying "It's ok, I am leaving"
My friend was distraught by the cold reception he received at breakfast and whilst paying his bill. It was only during lunch at the George and Dragon in Wargrave later that he was reminded about his testicle buttering of the previous evening,
My friend presumes that he cannot be identified from this story, although all his mates never let him forget about it, and his wife always asks....."why??????" and he has no idea.
My friend has just read this whilst on the way home from work on a packed commuter bus. By way of explaining to the total stranger next to him his tearful expression and inability to keep the giggles in, he has shown the post to aforementioned stranger. Apparently there were then two strangers on a packed commuter bus laughing out loud with tears. These events took place at a wedding in between Reading and Basingstoke on the a33. The Groom was English and the Bride Korean. The wedding was great fun but never really "kicked off" partially as half the attendees did not speak English. My friend particularly remembered cheering drunkenly whenever the Korean speech sounded like it had a joke in it, and then drinking.
Anyway, I had a great time and the point that interests us about my friend is that, in a small pub hotel.restaurant on the A33 in about 1998 at 2 am he declared to another friend after drinking Spanish brandy out of tea cups that it was time for a snack that he would get one from the kitchen, so off he went, as it was 2am and the kitchen was closed; there would surely be something edible....
It seems that said friend was to be found liberally smearing butter on his testicles at the sandwich making bar of this small hotel/pub on the a34. Having turned on the lights in the kitchen, all of the night staff had turned up en mass. My friend's friend had decided that he had been missing for too long so tried to find him.
My friend has been told that there was a moment when both the hotel staff and my friend's friend stood in horror watching my friend baste his boy parts in the available yellow spread. It seems that there was quite a moment of standoff as both parties stared at my friend whilst he continued lubricating his gentleman's vegetables with the condiments arranged before him.
This is the point at which my friends memory kicks in and he remembers rapidly tucking in his greasy plums and retreating hastily up the back stairs to his room. He remembers saying "It's ok, I am leaving"
My friend was distraught by the cold reception he received at breakfast and whilst paying his bill. It was only during lunch at the George and Dragon in Wargrave later that he was reminded about his testicle buttering of the previous evening,
My friend presumes that he cannot be identified from this story, although all his mates never let him forget about it, and his wife always asks....."why??????" and he has no idea.
Your friend may or may not appreciate this action and reaction, but as my friend is the other side of the planet it might be that your friend is not too fussed...
I have a friend that is a Solicitor, practising in Melbourne Victoria. Seems he was in court one day for a client of about 20 years of age that appeared before a magistrate on a charge of wilful exposure and offensive behaviour. Said young punter who we should point out was nicely attired in a suit, freshly shaven and very embarrassed looking pleaded not guilty and the evidence was read out that he had arrived in a McDonalds restaurant somewhat the worse for wear , waited patiently to be served and explained to the young lady behind the counter that he had brought his own meat for the hamburger and with that flopped his willy onto the counter for her to place in a roll. My friends eyes were welling up with tears recounting this, he explained that the magistrate and court staff were nearly wetting themselves trying not to laugh and maintain the dignity of the court while looking at a public gallery rolling on the floor at all of this. He was found guilty by the way
My friend went out for a meal with his burd and her folks. Her dad bumped into an ex pro rugby player who was a mate from school, and his wife. The chaps went to the bar and my friend, then 22, thought he was big, and mature, and able to keep up with his elders at the bar.
At the end of the night, it was felt best that my mate crashed out in the lounge of his gf's parent's house that night instead of going home.
As his head was spinning, his gf left a plastic basin beside him, just in case. Sure enough, in the middle night he was violently sick - on her parents lounge carpet (completely missing the basin). Their house was up for sale at the time.
At the end of the night, it was felt best that my mate crashed out in the lounge of his gf's parent's house that night instead of going home.
As his head was spinning, his gf left a plastic basin beside him, just in case. Sure enough, in the middle night he was violently sick - on her parents lounge carpet (completely missing the basin). Their house was up for sale at the time.
Well who says you can't get yer knee down on a small bike?
My friend just rode his CG125 to the 24 hour garage and back because he had a sudden craze for crunchy nut cornflakes. His tail light bulb blew just after he started the bike, but he went off anyway, with his frumpy yodel driver hi viz on over his jacket. Not a single other vehicle was seen on the four miles there and four miles back, but there was a police van in a layby as he approached home. The occupants appear to have been asleep or dogging, so my friend didn't get pulled. Now he has decided that he just wants to go to bed and doesn't want any cornflakes after all.
My friend just rode his CG125 to the 24 hour garage and back because he had a sudden craze for crunchy nut cornflakes. His tail light bulb blew just after he started the bike, but he went off anyway, with his frumpy yodel driver hi viz on over his jacket. Not a single other vehicle was seen on the four miles there and four miles back, but there was a police van in a layby as he approached home. The occupants appear to have been asleep or dogging, so my friend didn't get pulled. Now he has decided that he just wants to go to bed and doesn't want any cornflakes after all.
blearyeyedboy said:
^ My friend fell off his CG125 in Bristol, having put his foot down on a banana peel at a traffic light... yes, really.
Pah. My friend wrote off his MTX125R riding into a farmer's five bar gate late at night whilst daydreaming about quick knee-trembler with a Doris he'd met three hours previously.My friend was lucky enough recently to acquire his dream motor, a TVR Chimaera. Having seen some years and a little door droop, the doors of his car were best encouraged shut with a firm shove and checked to ensure they'd definitely latched.
His missus had got the train to Swindon to visit him the one weekend, and after having a lovely time, it only made sense to take the P&J back to the station to drop her off. Anyone who has been to Swindon station will understand the velocity of clusterfk that occurs outside as cabbies jostle for space with the general public to acquire one of the coveted short stay spaces in front of the station.
My friend was fortunate enough on this day to acquire such a spot, and has to admit that it did his ego no harm to be helping his rather leggy and glamorous girlfriend get her bags out of his exotic and brutish British sports car amongst a typically busy crowd of commuters and shoppers outside the station.
Suddenly he hears a shout, and looks up to be confronted by a group of three lads, one of whom he very vaguely recognises as the brother of a former conquest at a time during which he'd been very drunk. Very, very drunk. The ensuing confrontation immediately confirmed his fears that said encounter had left a rather bitter taste in the mouth her end. His missus is now looking aghast as he pleads his innocence in vain with the three blokes (all of whom outsize him by a considerable margin and are appearing increasingly agitated).
Finally, his girlfriend barks at him that she's going to miss her train and so, panicked, he picks up her bags and rushes her into the station, apologising profusely and trying to find some explanation for the series of events that have just occurred. In his head the entire time he's terrified for the treatment that his P&J will receive at the hands of the furious gaggle outside whilst unattended. He successfully ushers his OH onto her platform and then rushes outside to find the three still stood menacingly by the car. He quickly scans his eyes across the TVR and concludes that no rash actions have been taken- these blokes only intend to damage my friend, not his motor. This comes as a huge relief.
He mumbles a hurried apology as he passes them fumbling his keys, hoping to be in the car in one piece a long way away ASAP. He hopes for the sake of his last shred of dignity that none of the immense crowd outside the station will have noticed the embarrassing confrontation. At this point he turns the key in the ignition and the big V8 roars into life, alerting the attention of nearly the entire crowd. The three aggressors make a point of heckling his hasty departure as he tries to shrink inside the cabin. As he rushes away from the station and turns immediately right, the passenger side door swings open and nearly clotheslines a row of pedestrians. My friend yelps in dismay and in blind panic, straddles the centreline of the road in an effort to avoid clouting any road scenery with the open door, weaving madly in an attempt to swing it shut. Finally the road swings left sharply enough that a vigorously taken turn encourages the door to slam shut and latch fully, by now my friend is as red as a fire truck and can't even begin to comprehend the scene that he's just created in full view of Swindon town centre.
It was not my friends finest episode. But his missus forgave him!
His missus had got the train to Swindon to visit him the one weekend, and after having a lovely time, it only made sense to take the P&J back to the station to drop her off. Anyone who has been to Swindon station will understand the velocity of clusterf
k that occurs outside as cabbies jostle for space with the general public to acquire one of the coveted short stay spaces in front of the station.My friend was fortunate enough on this day to acquire such a spot, and has to admit that it did his ego no harm to be helping his rather leggy and glamorous girlfriend get her bags out of his exotic and brutish British sports car amongst a typically busy crowd of commuters and shoppers outside the station.
Suddenly he hears a shout, and looks up to be confronted by a group of three lads, one of whom he very vaguely recognises as the brother of a former conquest at a time during which he'd been very drunk. Very, very drunk. The ensuing confrontation immediately confirmed his fears that said encounter had left a rather bitter taste in the mouth her end. His missus is now looking aghast as he pleads his innocence in vain with the three blokes (all of whom outsize him by a considerable margin and are appearing increasingly agitated).
Finally, his girlfriend barks at him that she's going to miss her train and so, panicked, he picks up her bags and rushes her into the station, apologising profusely and trying to find some explanation for the series of events that have just occurred. In his head the entire time he's terrified for the treatment that his P&J will receive at the hands of the furious gaggle outside whilst unattended. He successfully ushers his OH onto her platform and then rushes outside to find the three still stood menacingly by the car. He quickly scans his eyes across the TVR and concludes that no rash actions have been taken- these blokes only intend to damage my friend, not his motor. This comes as a huge relief.
He mumbles a hurried apology as he passes them fumbling his keys, hoping to be in the car in one piece a long way away ASAP. He hopes for the sake of his last shred of dignity that none of the immense crowd outside the station will have noticed the embarrassing confrontation. At this point he turns the key in the ignition and the big V8 roars into life, alerting the attention of nearly the entire crowd. The three aggressors make a point of heckling his hasty departure as he tries to shrink inside the cabin. As he rushes away from the station and turns immediately right, the passenger side door swings open and nearly clotheslines a row of pedestrians. My friend yelps in dismay and in blind panic, straddles the centreline of the road in an effort to avoid clouting any road scenery with the open door, weaving madly in an attempt to swing it shut. Finally the road swings left sharply enough that a vigorously taken turn encourages the door to slam shut and latch fully, by now my friend is as red as a fire truck and can't even begin to comprehend the scene that he's just created in full view of Swindon town centre.
It was not my friends finest episode. But his missus forgave him!
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