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Off Topic And Now for Something Completely Different
- Thread starter Dr.Stanley O'Google, HCFC
- Start date
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Anyone else so old they remember when this was Tim?
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Okay, here we go, genuine question. It's important, maybe this deserves it's own thread with a poll but I need some feedback first.
I live with my wife in an old farm labourer's cottage. The stairs are steep, there's plenty of them and they end at a solid floor, like I imagine most stairs do. I have been successfully navigating them for 11 years now, using my eyes and legs like a human might. However, my lovely wife has been finding a way to fall down them repeatedly on an average of approximately once per year. The first time, about 10 years ago, she fell down them naked in the night and the shock of clouting the cold tiles at the bottom resulted in her twisted frame being surrounded by her own piss. I thought she might be dead for a breath-held second but she wasn't and most importantly, I did not laugh. At all. Knowing that the previous occupant of my house was a feeble minded old lady who had regularly fallen down the stairs and ****ing died, I was actually quite concerned.
But she didn't die, she was sore for a while but as far as I could tell, not dead. Chalked it down to stair inexperience.
Around the fifth time, she managed to inexplicably take with her framed aerial photos of Boothferry Park and the KC and a pair of antique pistols that hung either side of the stairwell, less than 3 feet apart but crucially, about six feet up. By my calculations she must have flipped in the air and taken them down with her feet. It would seem that when she falls, she really ****ing falls, flailing like a newfound member of the Cirque du Soleil, who may or may not be a little slow of thought. Again, and it's really important to note, I did not laugh. Confused, scared perhaps, but not amused to the point of chuckling. Genuinely worried. No mirth.
Not dead, not funny, but I must admit I was starting to consider that she might like it or do it on purpose.
Now tonight, I'd just popped a bottle of Hoegaarden and I hear the now familiar tumble of limbs crashing against walls and she was furious to be presented with my contorted face, laughing uncontrollably, mocking her for failing to understand the basic concept of stairs, a concept understood by humankind since we climbed down from the trees. I couldn't help it but I had not one ounce of sympathy available.
She went wild, crying and holding her arm as if she'd never fallen down the stairs before. She called me a "heartless ****" and bravely reapproached the stairs to bedfordshire.
So by now it's pretty obvious, my question is bi-fold.
Do ****s have hearts and is there a tastier cloudy wheat beer?
I live with my wife in an old farm labourer's cottage. The stairs are steep, there's plenty of them and they end at a solid floor, like I imagine most stairs do. I have been successfully navigating them for 11 years now, using my eyes and legs like a human might. However, my lovely wife has been finding a way to fall down them repeatedly on an average of approximately once per year. The first time, about 10 years ago, she fell down them naked in the night and the shock of clouting the cold tiles at the bottom resulted in her twisted frame being surrounded by her own piss. I thought she might be dead for a breath-held second but she wasn't and most importantly, I did not laugh. At all. Knowing that the previous occupant of my house was a feeble minded old lady who had regularly fallen down the stairs and ****ing died, I was actually quite concerned.
But she didn't die, she was sore for a while but as far as I could tell, not dead. Chalked it down to stair inexperience.
Around the fifth time, she managed to inexplicably take with her framed aerial photos of Boothferry Park and the KC and a pair of antique pistols that hung either side of the stairwell, less than 3 feet apart but crucially, about six feet up. By my calculations she must have flipped in the air and taken them down with her feet. It would seem that when she falls, she really ****ing falls, flailing like a newfound member of the Cirque du Soleil, who may or may not be a little slow of thought. Again, and it's really important to note, I did not laugh. Confused, scared perhaps, but not amused to the point of chuckling. Genuinely worried. No mirth.
Not dead, not funny, but I must admit I was starting to consider that she might like it or do it on purpose.
Now tonight, I'd just popped a bottle of Hoegaarden and I hear the now familiar tumble of limbs crashing against walls and she was furious to be presented with my contorted face, laughing uncontrollably, mocking her for failing to understand the basic concept of stairs, a concept understood by humankind since we climbed down from the trees. I couldn't help it but I had not one ounce of sympathy available.
She went wild, crying and holding her arm as if she'd never fallen down the stairs before. She called me a "heartless ****" and bravely reapproached the stairs to bedfordshire.
So by now it's pretty obvious, my question is bi-fold.
Do ****s have hearts and is there a tastier cloudy wheat beer?
Nice to Lichaj’s kids at football in City shirts...
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Just flicking through the channels and come across the build up of the women's tennis Serena Williams has turned up wearing a bin liner.
What am I supposed to have done on the car park?
{there’s several things but I’m not owning up until I know which one you know about and whether you have proof}
At least you haven't done one. I was a bit worried.
Unless it was a typo and it was ' Ben done' and Chaz is either a hitman or rent boy? Poor Ben ...
Not me "Work Ben Done" never associated with me. [HASHTAG]#LazyCunt[/HASHTAG]
Chazz is a rent boy though.
Better than telling him face to face...
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Didn't know that one of Alex Ferguson's regrets was not signing Dean Windass ?
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