Almost two full pages so far and we haven't yet had the obligatory tales about finding huge quantities of 1980's pornographic literature whilst rummaging through local woodland.
A right of passage for any pre-pubescent boy from a certain period.
A mate and I used to head to a spot in the ravine near our houses on Saturday mornings and collect a small fortune's worth of returnable beer bottles that teenagers would leave the night before. My dad would give us the nickel per bottle and then return them with his empties.
Once, when we were putting them in our shed round back, my friend and I found a big stewing pot full of nicked and sliced golf balls. We hauled them to the edge of the Scarborough bluffs and spent the better part of a morning driving them 300 yards into Lake Ontario.
A few weeks later: "Where the hell is my bucket of practice golf balls?"
Almost two full pages so far and we haven't yet had the obligatory tales about finding huge quantities of 1980's pornographic literature whilst rummaging through local woodland.
A right of passage for any pre-pubescent boy from a certain period.
Almost two full pages so far and we haven't yet had the obligatory tales about finding huge quantities of 1980's pornographic literature whilst rummaging through local woodland.
A right of passage for any pre-pubescent boy from a certain period.
I was amazed when I found that it wasn;t just me that experienced this. Ours had, rather worryingly, a negligee draped over a tree.
To think that people would think me neglectful for my parenting anecdotes on the OTF pubs thread where my father took me to a rugby club where I learnt how to swear properly and that had porn-filled woods next to it
When I was 14, I used to lurk about in an area that was referred to as 'the dumps' which overlooked the motorway. It was a barren place, full of burned out cars and rusted old washing machines. I remember one summer evening, I was feeling a bit tired and decided to sit down for a bit on a small hill when two girls (who were probably a year or two older than me) propositioned me for sex...
Rogan's post on the previous page about the gorilla dragging the polar bear onto dry land, made no sense. If gorillas cannot swim, how can they get into a fight with a polar bear other than on dry land?
If you see a gorilla and a polar bear in what appears to be close combat in the water it is actually a case of the gorilla holding onto the polar bear to avoid drowning.
Sometimes I despair of OTF.
As for Fartle's tale, were you bitten by their guide dogs?
At Longleat, there is Gorilla Island which is what it says on the tin. Now initially, like everyone else, I assumed that they put them on an island as they couldn't swim.
The lake, however, is populated by hippos and sealions. I am wondering now whether they are hoping for some gorilla/sealion/hippo tag wrestling match to break out.
See, this is interesting. My kids have a book about two gorillas stranded on small, desert islands. As is typical with books for this age group, there isn't adequate back-story to explain how the gorillas came to be on the islands, which are all of thirty of forty feet apart. Notwithstanding, they have no provisions and apparently don't know one another and, early on in the story, have only just noticed one another.
The rest of the story goes into their various exploits viz. how to get to the other's island for companionship (and what have you): tunneling under the water; running across it, etc. But no swimming, due to sharks.
**spoilers ahead***
At its climax, and after the unravelling of various schemes, the gorillas climb to the top of the lone palm tree on their respective islands. As the trees become top-heavy, they tilt over and - miraculously - meet and intertwine in the middle, thus creating a bridge for the gorillas to cross and meet up.
In the end, the sharks are frustrated by this turn of events; the gorillas are elated; and they celebrate by having a party featuring coconut cream pie and banana shakes. We can assume the source for the ingredients, but little explanation is made for the means of their manufacture. Altogether, an amusing but implausible tale. But again, an exploration of your gorillas and water issue.
I've just been reminded of an incident from my childhood. Myself and Pete Miles from the next village went down to the quarry armed with an air pistol to catch a puma.
I could string it out in to a story, but I can't be arsed. The basics are there.
Yeah, I had a moment like that trying to post something in the "embarrassing stories" thread; basically my mate Blow went to the bank to ask about a loan, ignorant to the fact that he had a cat's nose and whiskers drawn on his face.
At least tell us why he is called Blow. Does he smoke a pipe? Is his second name Hard?
The puma story is intriguing. Did you expect the puma to put it paws up in surrender and come quietly? If not then I am not sure how you would "catch" a puma with a gun of any description. Kill it, yes. Capture, no.
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