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- a member for 15 years, 6 months and 28 days
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» Unexpected Nudity
A hotel somewhere in England
It was 3am. I was drunk, exhausted, nauseaous and pissed off. I had just walked up eight flights of stairs to get to the hotel room of a comedian. He took the lift, whereas I let claustrophobia get in the way. I was young and naive and very much admired this man who should have known better.
I knocked on the door. I twiddled my thumbs. I expected a cuddle and a kiss. He opened the door and I got an eyeful of cock.
"Oh." I said. "You're naked, then."
"...yes." came the reply.
There was a pause. I'm not one for romance at the best of times, but I think even I surpassed myself with what I said next:
"I'm wearing very inappropriate underwear."
I was as well.
(Tenuous link, but I like the story).
(Thu 28th May 2009, 23:09, More)
A hotel somewhere in England
It was 3am. I was drunk, exhausted, nauseaous and pissed off. I had just walked up eight flights of stairs to get to the hotel room of a comedian. He took the lift, whereas I let claustrophobia get in the way. I was young and naive and very much admired this man who should have known better.
I knocked on the door. I twiddled my thumbs. I expected a cuddle and a kiss. He opened the door and I got an eyeful of cock.
"Oh." I said. "You're naked, then."
"...yes." came the reply.
There was a pause. I'm not one for romance at the best of times, but I think even I surpassed myself with what I said next:
"I'm wearing very inappropriate underwear."
I was as well.
(Tenuous link, but I like the story).
(Thu 28th May 2009, 23:09, More)
» Asking people out
A Few Disparate Tales
My most succesful: (Mid-conversation) "I'm just going to seduce Murray now, if you don't mind." We were together for about six months.
Least successful: "Do you want to go out with me?" "No." "Oh, go on. Just think about it for a while?" "Okay, I will."
Needless to say, we didn't get together. I was 13 at the time, if it counts.
My current beau asked me out for a meal by claiming that "The Outsider has some really good 2-for-1 offers."
I'm smitten. So it seems that the best way to win a girl's affections is to invite her for a cheap meal.
(Thu 17th Dec 2009, 0:53, More)
A Few Disparate Tales
My most succesful: (Mid-conversation) "I'm just going to seduce Murray now, if you don't mind." We were together for about six months.
Least successful: "Do you want to go out with me?" "No." "Oh, go on. Just think about it for a while?" "Okay, I will."
Needless to say, we didn't get together. I was 13 at the time, if it counts.
My current beau asked me out for a meal by claiming that "The Outsider has some really good 2-for-1 offers."
I'm smitten. So it seems that the best way to win a girl's affections is to invite her for a cheap meal.
(Thu 17th Dec 2009, 0:53, More)
» That's me on TV!
This very morning in fact
A couple of Thursdays ago, I went to see a recording of the incredibly amusing radio programme I'm Sorry I Haven't a Clue. After a fabulous show, a friend and I stumbled into the Newcastle night, raving about how good it all was. Walking along, we failed to noticed a man brandishing a camera until it was too late.
"Hi there, we're doing a piece about the show for breakfast television, can we ask you a few questions?"
Having just done a journalism postgrad, I know how annoying it is to get the general public to talk to you when you have a camera, so I thought I'd be exceedingly gracious, grabbed my friend who was beating a hasty retreat, and smiled winningly at the camera.
He asked us a number of questions, basically trying to get us to say how good the show was, which we dutifully did. I remember rambling about how the show's humour had transcended the decades, remaining as funny now as it was in the 70s. My friend said some equally eloquent stuff, and, after having spoken to the men for about five minutes, we left thinking we'd have to check it out the next day.
However, the next day came and went and there was no sign of a feature about I'm Sorry I Haven't a Clue, so we assumed the piece had been dropped in favour of this swine flu furore and I thought no more of it.
That is, until this morning. Imagine my surprise when, at about 8.15 this morning, while I was nursing a hot, sweet cup of tea and blearily channel-hopping, I heard the ever-familiar theme tune ringing from the TV. "Oh," says I, "They're doing a piece on Clue." It took me far too long to put two and two together, that is, until I saw two very familiar people appear on the screen. Yes, it was me and my friend - and while she said something very meaningful and thoughtful, I gazed off to the side, looking a bit grumpy and confused. Before I could say my (just as philosophical) bit, the scene cuts to Rob bleedin' Brydon or someone.
And that's how I was caught on breakfast TV, looking far grouchier than one should after having just left a comedy show. Chuh.
(Mon 15th Jun 2009, 18:33, More)
This very morning in fact
A couple of Thursdays ago, I went to see a recording of the incredibly amusing radio programme I'm Sorry I Haven't a Clue. After a fabulous show, a friend and I stumbled into the Newcastle night, raving about how good it all was. Walking along, we failed to noticed a man brandishing a camera until it was too late.
"Hi there, we're doing a piece about the show for breakfast television, can we ask you a few questions?"
Having just done a journalism postgrad, I know how annoying it is to get the general public to talk to you when you have a camera, so I thought I'd be exceedingly gracious, grabbed my friend who was beating a hasty retreat, and smiled winningly at the camera.
He asked us a number of questions, basically trying to get us to say how good the show was, which we dutifully did. I remember rambling about how the show's humour had transcended the decades, remaining as funny now as it was in the 70s. My friend said some equally eloquent stuff, and, after having spoken to the men for about five minutes, we left thinking we'd have to check it out the next day.
However, the next day came and went and there was no sign of a feature about I'm Sorry I Haven't a Clue, so we assumed the piece had been dropped in favour of this swine flu furore and I thought no more of it.
That is, until this morning. Imagine my surprise when, at about 8.15 this morning, while I was nursing a hot, sweet cup of tea and blearily channel-hopping, I heard the ever-familiar theme tune ringing from the TV. "Oh," says I, "They're doing a piece on Clue." It took me far too long to put two and two together, that is, until I saw two very familiar people appear on the screen. Yes, it was me and my friend - and while she said something very meaningful and thoughtful, I gazed off to the side, looking a bit grumpy and confused. Before I could say my (just as philosophical) bit, the scene cuts to Rob bleedin' Brydon or someone.
And that's how I was caught on breakfast TV, looking far grouchier than one should after having just left a comedy show. Chuh.
(Mon 15th Jun 2009, 18:33, More)