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Korean Job Discussion Forums
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Dome Vans
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 Posted: Mon Nov 12, 2007 11:09 pm Post subject: |
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At his age of 32, I really wish people would actually do something of note before writing a book or commenting on their pointless lives. Why do publishers ask Wayne Rooney to write a book even though he was 20 and went to the World Cup and won shit? Or Ashley Cole (wot a dick) has done squat. Why?
Russell Brand is somebody I really wouldn't miss even if a piano fell on him. There are plenty of celebrities who I'd love to see gone. Paris Hilton is way out in front of this group. What a steg! Now I'm getting a benny on. Ah-cud eet a'scabby-donkey tween tu Bre't-Vans. |
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Big_Bird
Joined: 31 Jan 2003
Location: Sometimes here sometimes there...
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| Posted: Mon Nov 12, 2007 11:49 pm Post subject: |
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| Dome Vans wrote: |
| Paris Hilton is way out in front of this group. What a steg! Now I'm getting a benny on. Ah-cud eet a'scabby-donkey tween tu Bre't-Vans. |
Ee, ah 'ant 'eard summin seh 'steg' in bloody donkeys. Summat tha dun't 'ear 'round these parts, I'll tell thee. |
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dogbert
Joined: 29 Jan 2003
Location: Killbox 90210
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| Posted: Mon Nov 12, 2007 11:57 pm Post subject: |
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| Someone remind me again why you chavs and wankers think you speak the "true" English? |
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Big_Bird
Joined: 31 Jan 2003
Location: Sometimes here sometimes there...
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| Posted: Tue Nov 13, 2007 12:21 am Post subject: |
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| dogbert wrote: |
| Someone remind me again why you chavs and *beep* think you speak the "true" English? |
'Cos us knows 'ow to speak proppa, lad. You lot wi' yer funny talk an' all that blimmin' malarky 'bout trousers being 'pants' and boots being 'trunks' - an' all this uvver silly bollocks - should get yersens back ter schoowell and learn 'ow to toowik proppa lahk. All reht yer cheeky septic? |
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Dome Vans
Guest
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| Posted: Tue Nov 13, 2007 2:35 am Post subject: |
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| Big_Bird wrote: |
| dogbert wrote: |
| Someone remind me again why you chavs and *beep* think you speak the "true" English? |
'Cos us knows 'ow to speak proppa, lad. You lot wi' yer funny talk an' all that blimmin' malarky 'bout trousers being 'pants' and boots being 'trunks' - an' all this uvver silly bollocks - should get yersens back ter schoowell and learn 'ow to toowik proppa lahk. All reht yer cheeky septic? |
ca'am thi' pashuns luv! 'e's nowt but spit an' glue. |
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Big_Bird
Joined: 31 Jan 2003
Location: Sometimes here sometimes there...
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| Posted: Tue Nov 13, 2007 6:06 am Post subject: |
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| Dome Vans wrote: |
| Big_Bird wrote: |
| dogbert wrote: |
| Someone remind me again why you chavs and *beep* think you speak the "true" English? |
'Cos us knows 'ow to speak proppa, lad. You lot wi' yer funny talk an' all that blimmin' malarky 'bout trousers being 'pants' and boots being 'trunks' - an' all this uvver silly bollocks - should get yersens back ter schoowell and learn 'ow to toowik proppa lahk. All reht yer cheeky septic? |
ca'am thi' pashuns luv! 'e's nowt but spit an' glue. |
Aye cocker, tha's reht, an' 'e's not worth ' bother, Ah knows. But by gum, 'e's a bad un, that dogbert, an' if Ah ever catch 'im rahnd 'e're, Ah'll thrash 'im wi'in an inch o' 'is life - the cheeky get! |
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SPINOZA
Joined: 10 Jun 2005
Location: $eoul
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| Posted: Tue Nov 13, 2007 6:31 pm Post subject: |
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I can't believe I've never heard of this guy - we're both British and have so much in common!  I'm glad I read those two articles....very interesting! It was all filth, drugs and depravity but why dwell on the good points?
In the heroin article, Brand leaves this completely unexplained and, unfortunately, the more dim of reader will place the blame conveniently at heroin's door, dismissing (or innocently ignorant of) the facts that "heroin causes no ongoing toxicity to the tissues or organs of the body" (Dr Andrew Byrne, "Addict in the Family: How to Cope with the Long Haul") and "If users had a guaranteed pure supply of heroin which they relied on, there would be little more likelihood of toxic doses than occur with narcotics administered in a hospital" (Peele, Stanton, MD, "The Persistent, Dangerous Myth of Heroin Overdose")
| Richard Brand, eroneously attributing the loss of a man's eyes to heroin when actual fact that's a manifest impossibility, wrote: |
| Until recently, when I gratefully gave up public transport, I would see people I'd scored drugs with begging in tube stations. There was one bloke - I don't know if he's still around - whose eyes were missing. First he lost his wife, then his house, then his shoes, then his eyes |
Prohibition is the most dishonest and destructive social policy of our time and it looks bad if experienced heroin users report heroin being responsible for such an awful scenario. If heroin caused the risk of the loss of eyes, or any significant physical harm, it wouldn't be used all over the world in medicine, of all things, as an analgesic and sedative. Sugar and paracetamol are both more destructive to health than heroin. |
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Big_Bird
Joined: 31 Jan 2003
Location: Sometimes here sometimes there...
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| Posted: Tue Nov 13, 2007 9:33 pm Post subject: |
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| SPINOZA wrote: |
| I can't believe I've never heard of this guy - we're both British and have so much in common! I'm glad I read those two articles....very interesting! It was all filth, drugs and depravity but why dwell on the good points? |
Since you're enjoying it, here he is again - it must be a week long thingy:
I love poor people ... they know where the drugs are
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| Ricky was a proud man, and I really liked him, although one time he compromised both me and dear Pearl by showing me a photograph of Pearl's vagina - taken up her skirt. I was sitting politely taking drugs in their house demonstrating that I enjoyed their company as well as their wares when Ricky, beaming, thrust a photo into my eyeline and asked, "What do you think of that?" I thought, how do you answer this question without offending anyone? What is the correct answer? What would it say in Debrett's Guide to Etiquette? "It's nice" - is that the right answer? "It isn't nice"? It's just an impossible social quandary. I think in the end I went "Mmm", thinking, If I just make a noise, that could be judged either way. |
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da_moler
Joined: 11 Nov 2006
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| Posted: Wed Nov 14, 2007 12:03 am Post subject: |
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Why does he say "When I came back from Asia"?
Was he an ESL teacher?? |
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Big_Bird
Joined: 31 Jan 2003
Location: Sometimes here sometimes there...
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| Posted: Wed Nov 14, 2007 12:52 am Post subject: |
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| da_moler wrote: |
Why does he say "When I came back from Asia"?
Was he an ESL teacher?? |
If you read the full article, you'll see his dad was a dirty old bugger who took him off to Hong Kong for some sex tourism when he was still a teen.
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The episode that defined my relations with women - and with myself - occurred in Hong Kong with my dad. I was 17. His third marriage had just broken up, so he needed someone to go on holiday with. I was unemployed, penniless, birdless and desperate for his approval; we were the perfect holiday companions. On the plane home he said, "I went away with a boy and came back with a man." Both of those people were me, so what happened to induce such a significant transition?
In addition to Hong Kong we visited Bali, Singapore and Thailand, and in all those places we saw incredible things. There was only one sight I was interested in seeing. Or rather one thing I was inerested in doing, repeatedly. One thing that chewed its way into my barren little soul and gave me, at long last, a physical pursuit that I was good at. Sex. Disposable sex, sex as leisure, sex for pleasure, sex you sordid little treasure, drag me from monotony and give me kicks too hot to measure.
On day one in Hong Kong we went to some sleazy dive hidden behind a thick black drape where women from the east traipsed louchely along the mirrored promenade in garish beachwear. That promenade was a conveyor belt from which produce could be selected; I didn't know that then but my cock did, twitching, preparing frantically, trying to recall correct procedure. "This is not a drill, repeat, this is not a drill." My dad sat there next to me, familiar with this glistening and foreign terrain.
I didn't understand what I was witnessing, but by jingo, I knew I liked it. Dumbstruck, I sat looking at the women, their hair, each strand identifiable as it responded to a fan that had been placed there to elicit exactly the reaction I felt in my pantaloons, their toenails, painted and perfect, each solitary toe a match for me. They didn't seem enslaved or exploited - to me they weren't; they were mistresses, goddesses, salvation.
"I can't wait to tell my mates that I saw these women in swimsuits," I said to myself. Before long, I was sat on a barstool with a Filipino girl called Mary-Lou, or something similarly unlikely. I thought, "I can't wait to tell my mates I was sat talking to Mary-Lou." That quickly became, "I can't wait to tell my mates I was kissing her." Then we were leaving, a street, a cab, perfume, hairspray, the three Asian prostitutes that my dad was drunkenly herding - Mary-Lou, another girl and the madam of the club, who had come along just for sport (when I learned that she'd come along without payment, I thought that a testimony to my dad's powers). Back at our hotel room, my dad set about unwrapping his two prostitutes, like pass-the-parcel where the music never stopped, and I sat nervously on the edge of the other twin bed with Mary-Lou, kissing her and thinking she was beautiful and falling in love. I'd only had anything close to sex once before - a week before my 16th birthday. I'd been careful to cultivate an image of myself as an aristocratic sex-pert, but she must have known I was a virgin as soon as the bungling encounter commenced.
In Hong Kong, I was naked and shy about my body. I had trouble getting hard, and the blow job seemed daft, not sexual, just giggly and intrusive.
After the un-sex, I carried Mary-Lou in my weedy arms out on to the balcony to look at the view of a great, looming skyscraper, disapprovingly observing. Mary-Lou didn't make me feel embarrassed, and was incredibly romantic really, given the context. I stroked Mary-Lou's hair and kissed her cheek and traced my finger down her perfect nose, scored by the cacophony from the adjacent bedlam, "Yeah, come on!" and "Phwooar, you're juicy!"
As she was about to go, she said expertly, "Russell, I must leave now before I fall in love with you." My heart skipped, and I heard, "Oh, fucking hell, I'm gonna be sick" - a disapproving announcement from dear old Ron.
The next morning, my dad, concealed behind a newspaper, folded down the top right-hand corner. "Did you wear a condom with that bird last night?" "Oh, no I didn't, Dad." He sniffed, "You should've." Then the corner of the page flicked up once again, and he was gone.
In the course of the rest of that holiday, I had sex with loads more prostitutes; always got a hard on, never wore a condom, and never fell in love. In Bangkok, when bar girls in Patpong left their posts to follow me down the street, cooing and touching my hair, I felt that I had my dad's unequivocal approval.
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igotthisguitar
Joined: 08 Apr 2003
Location: South Korea (Permanent Vacation)
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| Posted: Wed Nov 14, 2007 5:52 am Post subject: |
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| jinju wrote: |
| sex addiction is as pathetic as any other addiction, be it alcohol, drugs, gambling, tobacco.... |
Internet surfing & opining.
Yes, agreed  |
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