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Post by ohthehorror on Nov 22, 2015 10:31:45 GMT
One for the christmas list then I think
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Post by valdemar on Mar 7, 2016 7:11:10 GMT
After reading the blurb on the back cover, I was immediately reminded of the old bit of music-hall banter, viz: "I don't wish to know that, now kindly leave the stage." Ladeez 'n' Gemmun, Ithengyow.
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Post by ripper on Mar 8, 2016 9:35:23 GMT
Not anything to do with books, but......
On day-release from work to college I went into Woolworth's and bought my dad a Neil Sedaka album for his birthday. Of course, it was the vinyl record so rather conspicuous even in its Woolies' bag and I was ribbed mercilessly all afternoon by my classmates.
My cousin's two kids were with us for the day. They were about 5 and 7 at the time and I had the idea of renting them a couple of videos. I went to the video shop with another cousin--he was about 15 at the time. I sent him into the video shop while I did some shopping and met him a bit later. As per my instructions he had gone to the counter and asked rather sheepishly if they had any Winnie the Pooh videos--the kids' favourite at the time. To his consternation the assistant--a rather pretty girl in her late teens--said loudly, 'Oo, do you like Winnie the Pooh as well? He's my favourite.' Then shouting to someone in a back room, 'Did those Winnie the Pooh vids come back yet? There's a lad here who wants to rent some.' My cousin said he quickly paid for the videos and left. I don't think he had the nerve to ever go in there again in case the girl remembered him and asked him if he'd seen Winnie's new vid.
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Post by Mike Brough on Mar 9, 2016 8:15:40 GMT
It sounds like he was 'in there' and didn't realise it. Ah, callow youth.
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Post by helrunar on Jun 1, 2016 3:02:57 GMT
Holy Hell, Cliff Richard's memoirs! That's a kind of horror I never expected to find here.
Still, horror comes where one least expects it and often in the most banal disguise...
H.
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Post by valdemar on Nov 9, 2017 7:20:08 GMT
I was reading this whole thread again, and saw the mention of one member's gran buying Gangsta Rap records. To really savour the humour in this, it helps if you have ever worked in a record shop. I did, over Christmas 1989. It was a great job. At some point of each day, elderly ladies would shuffle uncomfortably up to the counter, bearing lists, some easily deciphered, others compiled over a bad 'phone line, and head-scratchingly abstruse (the Voynich manuscript would be simple in comparison), and some, written by children, and truculent youths, were hilarious. We always enjoyed dealing with these old folks, especially if their grand children were in to Death Metal. I loved those. The lovely old dear who handed me a piece of paper carrying the list: 'Anthrax' 'Carcass' 'Cannibal Corpse', and the mighty 'Anal C**t'. I tried not to laugh, and showed the list to my best mate there, the blond and very Australian Brian. He went out to the counter and said to the lady: " We've got all of them in stock except your Anal C**t." The shop went very, very quiet. Except for the four staff and the shop manager pissing themselves with laughter in the back of the shop. And that's what customer service is all about...
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