Ranks

[Yoghurt on a Stick]

12 minutes ago, Mr Boo said:

Mr Stick, I have just woken up (needing  to get water after drinking too much alcohol earlier in the night) and seen above posts. I have heard of Mr Tumbles (but not Mr Fumbles) - if my name sounds as dodgy as poor Mr Fumbles does, maybe I need a name change? Agree however  that it was a little unfair to judge the man on his name alone, hopefully he is just a bit clumsy.

I used to be on this forum under the name Boopickledaddy- Boo and Pickle being nick names of my daughters when they were younger. I forgot my password and so had to start with a new name -  basically shortening my previous name.

Mr Stick your name reminds me of an incredible incident that occurred to one of my uncles. Many years ago, he was walking his dog, the dog did a poo and this being at a time before people cleaned up dog mess with those little bags, he stabbed the poo with a stick (Poo on a stick) and lobbed the mess into a bush. The incredible bit was the shite bounded back out the bush and hit him in the chest. The density of the poo, combined with the flexibility of the twig it hit, allowed the bush to flick back the shite at its assailant.  Truly a miracle of nature.

 

Mr Boo, I love you.

I am not for one fraction of one second inferring that your user name is in anyway dodgy. Far from it. I did try (in a rather juvenile way to shoe horn the 'Boo' with attempting to scare people ie, Person (A) says 'Boo, and Person (B) shits themselves - a little / yes, ever so slightly, like your own uncle.

Now the shit story you regal (no, I don't mean 'Shit, shit' I mean 'Shit shit'), I'm sure that that is all now perfectly understood, all around.

What you will find odd. Actually scratch 'will' and replace it with 'may', add then the 'find odd' again at the end, and we'll all be at the right coordinates to proceed. 

Is everybody sitting comfortably - then I'll begin: I too have a shit story ( Not another one, I hear you all cry out!). My story begins with me being quite a young person about aged 12 years old. I had bought or been given a particularly mental catapult. I say mental in terms of its ability to fire objects at high velocity over a not unsubstantial distance. Anyway, I was walking along the road that I then lived on (Howard Road) and saw on the pavement in front of me an exceptionally large and shitty dog shit on the pavement towards the municipal park end of Howard Road. As if by instinct I knew immediately what had to be done. I 'knew' that that big lump of dog shit 'needed' me to fire a stone into it via my trusty catapult. So, I got a stone, aimed at the dog shit with my, by now, fully stretched out catapult, and fired my stone at the dog shit mess in front of me. I missed. I repeated the process, only going closer to the four legged friend deposit this time. I missed. So, I got another stone and went right up close to this pile of cack, drew my catapult and fired it. I looked down and saw that the shit had been blown to bollocks. There was now only a fraction of the afore mentioned dog dump on the pavement in front of me. I smiled. That was a job well done, i thought to myself. I was still full of civic pride when i shoved my catapult into my pocket. it was at this point that the hand performing this action 'felt' a little bit odd. I had no idea what this sensation was that i was feeling, but knew that I didn't like it. I then looked at my one hand. the hand which was absolutely smeared in dog shit. It was at that moment that I guess I learnt all about the mechanics of catapults - and the horror of having dog shit all over my one hand. I had stopped smiling by this point.

Regards Mr Boo 🙂