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The WTF? Thread

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    What's the point of going abroad if you're just another tourist carted around in buses surrounded by sweaty mindless oafs from Kettering and Coventry in their cloth caps and their cardigans and their transistor radios and their Sunday Mirrors, complaining about the tea - 'Oh they don't make it properly here, do they, not like at home' - and stopping at Majorcan bodegas selling fish and chips and Watney's Red Barrel and calamares and two veg and sitting in their cotton frocks squirting Timothy White's suncream all over their puffy raw swollen purulent flesh 'cos they 'overdid it on the first day.' And being herded into endless Hotel Miramars and Bellvueses and Continentales with their modern international luxury roomettes and draught Red Barrel and swimming pools full of fat German businessmen pretending they're acrobats forming pyramids and frightening the children and barging into queues and if you're not at your table spot on seven you miss the bowl of Campbell's Cream of Mushroom soup, the first item on the menu of International Cuisine, and every Thursday night the hotel has a bloody cabaret in the bar, featuring a tiny emaciated dago with nine-inch hips and some bloated fat tart with her hair brylcreemed down and a big arse presenting Flamenco for Foreigners. And adenoidal typists from Birmingham with flabby white legs and diarrhoea trying to pick up hairy bandy-legged wop waiters called Manuel and once a week there's an excursion to the local Roman Remains to buy cherryade and melted ice cream and bleeding Watney's Red Barrel and one evening you visit the so called typical restaurant with local colour and atmosphere and you sit next to a party from Rhyl who keep singing 'Torremolinos, torremolinos' and complaining about the food - 'It's so greasy isn't it?' - and you get cornered by some drunken greengrocer from Luton with an Instamatic camera and Dr. Scholl sandals and last Tuesday's Daily Express and he drones on and on about how Mr. Smith should be running this country and how many languages Enoch Powell can speak and then he throws up over the Cuba Libres. And sending tinted postcards of places they don't realise they haven't even visited to 'All at number 22, weather wonderful, our room is marked with an 'X'. Food very greasy but we've found a charming little local place hidden away in the back streets where they serve Watney's Red Barrel and cheese and onion crisps and the accordionist plays 'Maybe it's because I'm a Londoner'. And spending four days on the tarmac at Luton airport on a five-day package tour with nothing to eat but dried BEA-type sandwiches and you can't even get a drink of Watney's Red Barrel because you're still in England and the bloody bar closes every time you're thirsty and there's nowhere to sleep and the kids are crying and vomiting and breaking the plastic ash-trays and they keep telling you it'll only be another hour although your plane is still in Iceland and has to take some Swedes to Yugoslavia before it can load you up at 3 a.m. in the bloody morning and you sit on the tarmac till six because of 'unforeseen difficulties', i.e. the permanent strike of Air Traffic Control in Paris - and nobody can go to the lavatory until you take off at 8, and when you get to Malaga airport everybody's swallowing 'enterovioform' and queuing for the toilets and queuing for the armed customs officers, and queuing for the bloody bus that isn't there to take you to the hotel that hasn't yet been finished. And when you finally get to the half-built Algerian ruin called the Hotel del Sol by paying half your holiday money to a licensed bandit in a taxi you find there's no water in the pool, there's no water in the taps, there's no water in the bog and there's only a bleeding lizard in the bidet. And half the rooms are double booked and you can't sleep anyway because of the permanent twenty-four-hour drilling of the foundations of the hotel next door - and you're plagues by appalling apprentice chemists from Ealing pretending to be hippies, and middle-class stockbrokers' wives busily buying identical holiday villas in suburban development plots just like Esher, in case the Labour government gets in again, and fat American matrons with sloppy-buttocks and Hawaiian-patterned ski pants looking for any mulatto male who can keep it up long enough when they finally let it all flop out. And the Spanish Tourist Board promises you that the raging cholera epidemic is merely a case of mild Spanish tummy, like the previous outbreak of Spanish tummy in 1660 which killed half London and decimated Europe - and meanwhile the bloody Guardia are busy arresting sixteen-year-olds for kissing in the streets and shooting anyone under nineteen who doesn't like Franco. And then on the last day in the airport lounge everyone's comparing sunburns, drinking Nasty Spumante, buying cartons of duty free 'cigarillos' and using up their last pesetas on horrid dolls in Spanish National costume and awful straw donkeys and bullfight posters with your name on 'Ordoney, El Cordobes and Brian Pules of Norwich' and 3-D pictures of the Pope and Kennedy and Franco, and everybody's talking about coming again next year and you swear you never will although there you are tumbling bleary-eyed out of a tourist-tight antique Iberian airplane.....



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      Wow! Top quality rant.

      It's missing HP brown sauce, though.

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        Originally posted by Wouter D View Post
        Wow! Top quality rant.

        .
        it's a Monty Python one

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          Either that's Monty python, or HP has been working very hard on his impression of a 1970's englishman.

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            I can't quite believe my mum used to let us listen to The Final Rip Off on the car stereo back in the day. I was twelve and my brother was ten, for heaven's sake!

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              I had that tape stuck in my car for a long time.

              It didn’t occur to me that anyone wouldn’t be familiar with that sketch.

              If I were to rant about tourists, it wouldn’t be about Spain. I have only been to Spain once and it was very brief and I didn’t see much.

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                Originally posted by Hot Pepsi View Post
                It didn’t occur to me that anyone wouldn’t be familiar with that sketch.
                It was before my time. Plus which, my parents didn't appreciate Monty Python, so my brother and I never got really exposed to it.

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                  Sometimes we forget what a kid you are

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                    I genuinely thought it must have been a blip in the board's code, and that wingco had jumped in for a moment and his post had somehow got HP's user profile put next to it.

                    I am of course familiar with Monty Python but not that particular thing.

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                      I only came across them in 1991 when I got the tape of their songs. But I didn't really meet anyone who was into them until I met some americans in 1992. Then I discovered that in 1993, most of the internet was made up of typed up monty python scripts. I get the impression that they were bigger, later in the US. HP isn't much older than me, and they weren't much of a thing over here any more. I saw a fish called wanda, and fawlty towers well before I saw any monty python.

                      The Life of Brian is by far the best thing they ever did. It's just fantastic. (and was banned here)

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                        That rant is basically what my dad spends half his year doing with 'the lady he went to the gym with'. Except that he's too tight to pay for the buses so he always walks from the cruise ship to whatever port they're at, and then feels superior to all the other passengers.

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                          My parents don’t like most of the movies and TV or any of the music I like.

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                            Not so smug are you now, clever dick?


                            Council tenant fined 100 grand and evicted for renting out flat on Airbnb



                            https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/technology-49149983

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                              Originally posted by Balderdasha View Post
                              That rant is basically what my dad spends half his year doing with 'the lady he went to the gym with'. Except that he's too tight to pay for the buses so he always walks from the cruise ship to whatever port they're at, and then feels superior to all the other passengers.
                              Walks from the ship to the port?

                              Impressive!

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                                My dad's trick was to see an interesting excursion listed, and then suggest it to a few other old couples over dinner. When they docked, they'd find a seasoned looking old cabbie with a minivan and pay him $100 to take the 6 of them to the butterfly farm or banana plantation or whatever it was. With a fat tip, they'd all have a day out for about $30 per person instead of the $125 a head the ship was charging. Often, they'd end up at the driver's house for roast chicken or at his cousin's rum shop for a couple of bottles. Dad said you usually got more interesting stories from those drivers, too. Not the tourist-friendly song and dance you'd get from the 'authorized' tours.

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                                  Jaw dropping.........
                                  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ed5Vv9V1LTw

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                                    I only came across them in 1991 when I got the tape of their songs. But I didn't really meet anyone who was into them until I met some americans in 1992. Then I discovered that in 1993, most of the internet was made up of typed up monty python scripts. I get the impression that they were bigger, later in the US. HP isn't much older than me, and they weren't much of a thing over here any more. I saw a fish called wanda, and fawlty towers well before I saw any monty python.
                                    I don't know if it's still the case, but there was definitely a time when you could get the complete run of Monty Python's Flying Circus on DVD in the US, but not here.

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                                      Originally posted by The Awesome Berbaslug!!! View Post
                                      I only came across them in 1991 when I got the tape of their songs. But I didn't really meet anyone who was into them until I met some americans in 1992. Then I discovered that in 1993, most of the internet was made up of typed up monty python scripts. I get the impression that they were bigger, later in the US. HP isn't much older than me, and they weren't much of a thing over here any more. I saw a fish called wanda, and fawlty towers well before I saw any monty python.

                                      The Life of Brian is by far the best thing they ever did. It's just fantastic. (and was banned here)
                                      I rate all of their films, including Hollywood Bowl and Now for Something Completely Different (a kind of best-of sketch collection they did for the US market) 10 out of 10. But I prefer Holy Grail. I saw an interview with John Cleese where he said Americans usually like Holy Grail the best and British fans usually like Life of Brian the best.

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                                        I prefer Holy Grail but both films are terrific.

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                                          Monty Python had cult-status among the more articulate kids at my high school (mid-late 80s, Texas). We had lots of it memorized, and probably all of Holy Grail. My church youth group watched Life of Brian together, in order to discuss its theological perspective, so that was weird... I remember being home sick one day and discovering Fawlty Towers by accident, a daytime marathon on the public-access channel. Watched them all in one sitting.

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                                            I still have a soft spot for Rutland Weekend Television.

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                                              The Gospel according to Treibeis?




                                              https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-kent-49162116

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                                                The Right Reverend Dr Gavin Ashenden, Bishop of the Anglican Episcopal Church, said: "I'm afraid I think it's a really serious mistake, perhaps born of desperation.

                                                "The idea that people are so trivial that they can be almost tricked into a search for God by entertaining them with a golf course is a serious-category error."

                                                "No, we prefer the old fashioned methods: telling people unbelievable stories while promising them they're going to burn in hell for all eternity. And if that fails, maybe one of the brothers sodomizes them and we organize and cover the whole thing up. But crazy golf...no, I think not."

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                                                  The amazing thing is how well understood it was 500 years ago that the Church was completely corrupt and debauched. And then people managed to pretend that it all went away somehow until recent shocking revelations.

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                                                    He's right. The part he said. Not the part you added. Medieval cathedrals can speak for themselves. They shouldn't need gimmicks.

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