Int: Bridge of Spaceship. CAPT GRANT, a human, is speaking to NARNON, a
blue hairy alien type; use your imagination. They are both sitting.
CAPT: So, what makes you feel you'd be right as a pilot?
NARNON: I'm a splendid communicator Captain Grant. I'm conversant in 400
languages including text speak and illiterate facebook chav.
CAPT: Oh, really? I could never get my head around it at the academy.
NARNON: It's not that complicated really. You just swap i's for y's and
end every sentence with 'innit blud' and you're halfway there.
CAPT: It says here that you were almost part of the Technotronic Galaxial Royal Family.
NARNON: Yes. I was due to marry Princess Mardiothon but I just couldn't go through with it.
CAPT: Why ever not man?! Think of the money, the power, the pan, the
van, the Boursin. Besides, I heard technotrons can do strange and
wonderful things with their third inmurpredates.
NARNON: (beat) There will be things I'll miss about her but it would
never have worked. The whole family support Accrington Stanley.
CAPT: Accrington Stanley? Who are they?
NARNON: A shit football team from the Northwest of
England....originally. But now, they are part of the Neo-scouse
Religious Soccer league. Games last days. Cars are ceremonially left on
bricks and it's frowned upon if you don't chant (in scouse accent)
'Exactly' over and over again. I just couldn't do it anymore.
CAPT: So how did you get out of it then?
NARNON: Oh, I just whistled the tune to Please Release Me until she
asked what I was singing. Then I sang her chorus while giving her the
finger. I still have bruises on my dwarfinin.
CAPT: So, do you want the job.
NARNON: Don't you need to see any credentials. You've not asked if I can fly the thing yet.
CAPT: Fly? This is Transport for Pluto, Pal. We're on strike till next
year. You'll have plenty of time to learn. Welcome aboard comrade.
Showing posts with label erection. Show all posts
Showing posts with label erection. Show all posts
Friday, June 29, 2012
Sunday, July 5, 2009
Childhood memories
Gonna try and scribble this down for a laugh merely because i was talking to someone the other day and it triggered a memory of adolescence and that the idea has been bopping around the old noggin ever since.
If you're under 18 maybe you should stop reading now, although having said that, maybe you need to know this more than anyone.
You're 13-14 and you're getting onto the bus home from school after another hard day. The bus is quite full and the only seat available is a double edged sword. Oh my, it's the seat over the wheel. On the one hand this is a good thing, the extra vibration provides a cheap thrill and you start to review the day; how Mrs C was wearing quite a low cut top and she's not bad for an older bird; how pretty Lucy was looking in double english. Let's not beat about the bush here ("no, let's" it says), you've got a stonker on the bus home and frankly it's helping to pass the time pleasantly except here comes that other edge to the double edged sword; you've got to get off the bus in two minutes.
So, ok, think fast. Think about Grandma naked, eugh. But nothing's happening. Count backwards, that won't work. School dinners, dead pets, nothing is working. You're gonna have to stand up on a crowded bus in a second and you've got a trouser tent going on. So, ok the last roll of the dice is just to go for it and hope that the situation filters down to the little fella, that he decides to chill his boots, at least until you're off the bus and in your own home. You risk it.
Dunno about you, but i grew up on a fast moving road. This means that the bus is going about sixty mph which in turn means that the driver needs plenty of warning before your stop. In a modern version of the Cry Wolf story, the bus drivers know not to trust the ding ding of the bell at this time of day. Too many times have cheeky school pupils thought it funny to get the driver to stop by playing with the bell. No, if you want off you've got to ding the bell and move to get off. You've got to make sure the driver sees you in his mirror. This off course means you've got to be on your feet on a bus going 60 miles per hour, which can be difficult. Add in that you've got a heavy bag of books over your shoulder. Add also that you've got one hand in your pocket, trying to give off the impression of sauntering but really to push out the fabric of your trousers so the bulge is less noticeable.
Here you come to two more possibilities. The first is that you're the only person getting off the bus. This can be good as it means you can get right to front and make a quick getaway. It's also bad because when you get to the front, with a full bus behind you, some 40-50 people are staring in your direction. Be careful how you stand, profile is your enemy here. Try to stand with your back to everyone, with your hand in one pocket, holding on with the other for deal life.
The other possibility is that you aren't the only person getting off, in fact there is a queue. Again this can be good; there is safety in numbers. It can also be bad. You're standing halfway up the aisle, holding onto one of those flimsy handles, hand in pocket, heavy bag swaying you about. To your left is an old lady, her head just about cock height (this is a technical term). To your right is a half man, half beast, skinheaded, tattoed, armour plated killing machine. Do you stand square onto them, facing forwards down the aisle? If either looks sideways they are going to see trouser tent. Do you stand facing old lady? I'll save you the choice, you don't stand facing the nutcase guy. You probably opt for old lady, ok you'll probably go to hell but still, it's the safer option. But beware. As you may know, when buses brake and change gear there's a jolt. There is a very real danger that this sweet, old, blue rinsed lady is going to get hit across the face by your erection. This is not good. That means time to go, even if it is one handrail further down the aisle, just go and don't look back.
So, whatever, you make it out at the bus stop and off you go on your way.
I'm off outside to give my car a hug and thank god i'm no longer a teenager.
If you're under 18 maybe you should stop reading now, although having said that, maybe you need to know this more than anyone.
You're 13-14 and you're getting onto the bus home from school after another hard day. The bus is quite full and the only seat available is a double edged sword. Oh my, it's the seat over the wheel. On the one hand this is a good thing, the extra vibration provides a cheap thrill and you start to review the day; how Mrs C was wearing quite a low cut top and she's not bad for an older bird; how pretty Lucy was looking in double english. Let's not beat about the bush here ("no, let's" it says), you've got a stonker on the bus home and frankly it's helping to pass the time pleasantly except here comes that other edge to the double edged sword; you've got to get off the bus in two minutes.
So, ok, think fast. Think about Grandma naked, eugh. But nothing's happening. Count backwards, that won't work. School dinners, dead pets, nothing is working. You're gonna have to stand up on a crowded bus in a second and you've got a trouser tent going on. So, ok the last roll of the dice is just to go for it and hope that the situation filters down to the little fella, that he decides to chill his boots, at least until you're off the bus and in your own home. You risk it.
Dunno about you, but i grew up on a fast moving road. This means that the bus is going about sixty mph which in turn means that the driver needs plenty of warning before your stop. In a modern version of the Cry Wolf story, the bus drivers know not to trust the ding ding of the bell at this time of day. Too many times have cheeky school pupils thought it funny to get the driver to stop by playing with the bell. No, if you want off you've got to ding the bell and move to get off. You've got to make sure the driver sees you in his mirror. This off course means you've got to be on your feet on a bus going 60 miles per hour, which can be difficult. Add in that you've got a heavy bag of books over your shoulder. Add also that you've got one hand in your pocket, trying to give off the impression of sauntering but really to push out the fabric of your trousers so the bulge is less noticeable.
Here you come to two more possibilities. The first is that you're the only person getting off the bus. This can be good as it means you can get right to front and make a quick getaway. It's also bad because when you get to the front, with a full bus behind you, some 40-50 people are staring in your direction. Be careful how you stand, profile is your enemy here. Try to stand with your back to everyone, with your hand in one pocket, holding on with the other for deal life.
The other possibility is that you aren't the only person getting off, in fact there is a queue. Again this can be good; there is safety in numbers. It can also be bad. You're standing halfway up the aisle, holding onto one of those flimsy handles, hand in pocket, heavy bag swaying you about. To your left is an old lady, her head just about cock height (this is a technical term). To your right is a half man, half beast, skinheaded, tattoed, armour plated killing machine. Do you stand square onto them, facing forwards down the aisle? If either looks sideways they are going to see trouser tent. Do you stand facing old lady? I'll save you the choice, you don't stand facing the nutcase guy. You probably opt for old lady, ok you'll probably go to hell but still, it's the safer option. But beware. As you may know, when buses brake and change gear there's a jolt. There is a very real danger that this sweet, old, blue rinsed lady is going to get hit across the face by your erection. This is not good. That means time to go, even if it is one handrail further down the aisle, just go and don't look back.
So, whatever, you make it out at the bus stop and off you go on your way.
I'm off outside to give my car a hug and thank god i'm no longer a teenager.
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