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The grumpy thread


outlaw118

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Solicitors :shock:

 

waiting to go up for a compo case, was suppose to be heard at the end of last year.... but according to my solicitor and barrister i got lost in the system :roll:

 

but all that higher education that they have had to achieve there present position didnt make them think.."oh i know i will call someone to find out why the case has not been given a trial date..

 

upshot is..now that the other side have had a chance to get their heads together during this delay it could see my original claim being cut by 20-40k :cry:

and they wondered why i was going balistic at them in their office

 

BASTARDS!!!

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Arse!, I've got an answer phone message whilst i was out from someone interested in my Escort, The only trouble is i can't understand a work they are saying on the message, They give their home and mobile numbers but i can only pick out the old number here and there.

 

And they have called from a withheld number, Typical.

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The fuggin French!! Was driving past Paris last night and got hopelessly lost. After about an hour of driving without seeing a single petrol station I was starting to seriously shit myself about running out of juice in the middle of Paris at 3 am. Eventually found an Esso automated pez station, what a relief. Except every single pump was 'non disponible'. There was an intercom so I rang the lad who explained that, desipte it being a fully automated pez station, it was closed betwen midnight and 6am. WTF? So i asked him where I woudl find another station. He started rattling off names of places where there was an Esso station. I asked him, 'Where are these, are they anywhere near here'?' 'Oh, i've got no idea' was his reply. CHEERS WANQEUR :roll:

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I asked some terrifying-looking black guys who were coming out of a bar with a bevy of extremely buxom and scantily-clad lasses, where the nearest pez station was. they were impeccably polite and helpful as well, even if they looked like something out of 'The Wire'

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Im here at work, doing another boring as hell 12hours shift for 'the man' where the square-root of fuck-all happens. I was starting to feel a little like I should've thown a sicky and sat in a beer garden somewhere but In the background to brighten up my night I hear the Ronny Wood show come on the wireless.

GR8 thinks I, a couple of hours of decent music.

No such luck. The boring, middleaged sad bastards with which I work would rather listen to fucking heart FM. So shit dance music, gushy ballads and songs being cut off 1/2way through it is then.

 

Its going to be a really long night.

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Well I went out on my pushbike today, I'm down in Devon seeing the Faither-in-law. I'm 5 foot 6" and 17.5 stone, so was expecting pain on the hills, but the regular dog-walking's meant that the lungs work well enough. Then I only fucking fell off, at 5 mph, except I didn't really fall off, so much as steer into the tarmac because a screw had fallen out of the pedal fixing on the right shoe and I couldn't release from the pedal mechanism when I overbalanced doing a u-turn...

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No such luck. The boring, middleaged sad bastards with which I work would rather listen to fucking heart FM. So shit dance music, gushy ballads and songs being cut off 1/2way through it is then.

 

Its going to be a really long night.

 

Rank, I've worked in similar places where that happens. Virgin radio, the same shit songs repeated every hour, and the adverts! It makes working even worse.

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Look on the bright side Mr_B, if it had been working it would have spat your card out. So how did you solve you own personal Suez crisis?

 

 

Should have approached this situation in a more British fashion and reminded them that if it wasnt for you theyd be speaking German

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You can deadlock the Cav's locks by locking them, and then bringing the key back a 1/4 of the way. This means that the door can't be bent back and the plunger pulled (this happened on mine), and it also does something with the keylock I think?

 

The best thing I used to do with Vauxhalls is pull Fuse 2 - the fuel injection one. Engine no start.

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Arse!, I've got an answer phone message whilst i was out from someone interested in my Escort.

 

This is a funny story, He rang back at 10.30pm, The bloke was a complete mad man!, He asked me if my Escort was still for said, i said yes and he started wooping down the phone!

 

He then went on to tell me that he was from Durham and how his beloved BMW 528i had died and how it was his baby and how sad he was about it all, He then said he's always wanted a Mk4 blue Escort 1.6 GL and how he would treat it as his baby, This was when i stopped him to explain how i sold that a few month back, He then sounded like he was about to cry!

 

I told him about the Mk3 and then had him talking to himself about it for 5 minutes with me still on the line with my kebab (Chicken doner) getting cold, In the end to told him to go, at 11pm my phone rang again, I didn't answer it. :lol:

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Melinda Gates. I've met Bill Gates, sound bloke who loves his tech. I met him at Earls Court M3 Expo a few years back. Sound as can be, but why does a man with that much money have to cut his own hair? And his jacket looked like it has been in the boot of a car all night.

 

PHAKT-OID: I met Ayrton Senna in the same place in 1990. My girlfriend fainted, Senna helped me pick her up.

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Went to a work thing last night, and drank Westons Perry, which is quite a strong cider, and suffice to say, after three, I was feeling it. Feeling it so much that I passed out in bed at 11. And I have work in a few hours, retail on a Sunday is hell on earth. On a plus side though, I did drunkenly spot (without my camera) the recently semi restored Stagecoach DAF 2300 Wrecker, which I hadn't seen for a year.

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Last night I had to leave the pub three or four pints before I'd planned to because I got the most violent case of hiccups I've ever known (that said I can't ever remember having them before). After about 20 minutes of spitting my beer everywhere trying to drink it and being looked at like the freak I am by most of the other punters, I gave it up as a bad job and walked home with what was left of my pint (we could do with some more pint glasses here anyway) and just went to bed early. Still with hiccups.

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I've met Bill Gates. why does a man with that much money have to cut his own hair? And his jacket looked like it has been in the boot of a car all night.

 

this is how the severely rich maintain their staus - they dont spend any money

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Effing Post Office/my stupidity:

 

Taxed the Clio the other day and was looking round for the new keeper's bit as someone is on their way to view it. Can't find the paperwork anywhere but have the bit for a 54 plate Clio instead.

Uh-oh, bombed it down to the car and it's taxed as the 54 plate one NOT the 'N' plate that it is. Post Office obviously didn't check that the MOT married up to the new keeper's bit and like a dickhead I didn't check when I bought the car :evil:

Called the lad who's on his way and luckily he's cool about it, now I'm just worried that I might not see the tax money back and that someone now has six months tax on their car which they weren't expecting.

I'll call the DVLA and drop into the Post Office tomorrow, no joy from the person who I bought it off so assume they're out or something.

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Hired a van yesterday to collect a machine from Chelmsford, could have moved it in my car but went for the van as it made life easier, but mainly it meant I could help out a friend in trouble by moving a load of his gear to safety. The van was a big Citroen, huge loadspace and very nice to drive. Close to Chelmsford I met one of those black crewcab pickup things on a bend, well onto my side of the road with driver holding phone to ear and head turned to his left and oblivious to my pressence. While swerving to avoid the scum I caught the passenger front wheel on a kerb, just enough to peel up the edge of the rim and let the air out, So I removed the wheel, then coudn't work out how to get the spare out from under the back, after a while a guy in a Transit pulled up, looked like one of Dexys Midnight Runners and introduced himself as a Romany Gypsy, he couldn't work out how to remove the spare either, so he went to his van and came back with a sledgehammer, a footpump and a boy. Gave the bent rim a few blows, and instructed the boy to pump up the tyre while we talked about Transits and York 2.5s. Wasn't working though as the rim was still leaking, then I spot a mobile tyre van coming, waved him down and asked him how the spare comes out, within minutes he'd jumped in and put the spare on for me. I offered the Romany Gypsy a tenner for a drink, he absolutely refused my money, wished me luck and was off. The tyre guy was happy to have a drink on me.

Thanks to the delay I had no help loading my machine, 2 ankle gouges / bruises, 3 medium wounds to fingers, luckily managed not to break them, and I'm guessing I can kiss goodbye to the 250 van hire deposit, yes, I phoned and told them what I did.

The moral, next time I meet some Essex chav driving his gaudy personality replacement credit agreement piece of shit on my side of the road I must ram said piece of shit.

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The cold light of day is wonderful. It appears that the scrotes who tried to break in had a right good volley at the OSR 3/4 panel on the Cavalier. Just spent 80 quid on a new Disklok and booked the car into a mate's bodyshop for assesment.

 

I'm trying not to get angry but it's not working...

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