It's quite simple really.
Are you planning on a sensible night with a few tinnies? 4.
Are you wanting to get wankered but still make sense by lunchtime tomorrow? 14.
Are you wanting to get utterly trashed and wake up the morning after the morning after? 24.
Are you part of a suicide cult? Yeah go with 104, sure whatever.
Yeah, I went to a short notice concert in Laaaahndan last year when hotel prices were ludicrous. A same day domestic flight cost fifty notes .
I boarded with no luggage - just my watch, phone, wallet, and a phone charger - expected the bare minimum and wasn't disappointed. Like Ronseal, it did exactly what it said on the tin.
Ryanair is like the single rider queue for rides.
They're handy if you need to go somewhere fast and cheap, but asking any more of them is just going to lead to frustrating and lots of extra fees.
At this point, their reputation is so well-publicised (and even celebrated) that nobody really has any real right to moan once they've actively selected them as a carrier.
I lived under the Heathrow-Noo Yoik flight path, and every evening within a couple of minutes, there'd be a dull thud sound on the roof.
By that point, the plane has reached a supersonic speed and the sonic boom was striking the ground in a reduced fashion. It just sounded like someone had dropped a bag of sand on the house.
This was of course back before the days of ADSB tracking.
Who needs git when you have a B: drive and a Save As command for tycoon43.asm
Version control? You mean this?
Large coffees in a coffee shop are about the same price as a pint these days so you might as well.
Unless you've got the motor of course, then don't be a dafty.
Maybe I'm just showing my age but I felt a bit of a gut punch when I asked for two large coffees at the till, and a tenner wasn't enough to cover them. Fuck me.
Problem is, asking "don't well all know" and "I have assumed" don't meet the evidential threshold for prosecution - and "It just fits" isn't a compelling legal argument.
I'm no fan of his, but due process should be applied to all - whether it's a sitting or former president; someone swept up in an ICE raid; or someone contesting a traffic ticket.
A friend of mine got a phone call at daft o'clock one evening from his son who hadn't turned up home.
"Dad, can you pick me up from the city centre please?"
Bear in mind that he lived in a smaller town 40 miles or so from the city; on a bus route that spanned two cities about 90 miles apart.
Turns out that he had been taught how to board a bus; ask for a ticket; pay; and take a seat... but never learned how to leave a bus.
His dad was understandably pissed off, having been kicked out of bed at midnight to do a near two-hour round trip drive to pick his lad up. He asking him why he hadn't pushed the bell to signal the driver to stop.
"I thought they were just emergency stop buttons, and because I told the driver where I was going when I got the ticket, I thought he would stop for me... and when he didn't, I just sat and waited until the end of the line".
Poor soul.
Like Wreckfest, but with wings and maps.
Sounds like a laugh.
I get it, it's still jarring though. I get that an LGBTQI+ mag would want to promote his sexuality to prove visibility of senior civil servants or G-men or whatever the US calls them, but it just feels like a qualifier that shouldn't be necessary.
Happy to learn otherwise though, I'm open to opinions.
I still buy the odd paper if I'm working away from home.
These paywalls or "pay for no tracking" wankers make it easy to decide what papers not to buy.
Not that it really matters a flying fuck when print membership is sinking faster than the Oceangate grain of sub. It's satisfying though.
All very valid - my one is paying to not have to clear up or load a dishwasher with a banging fucking headache the next morning.
It's an expensive luxury these days, though.
Man I remember the fax bomb. Either huge numbers of black pages to burn through the recipients' ink toner, or two bits of A4 taped together neatly to form an infinite loop.
The latter was stopped when sending machines got a buffer that images were stored in before they were sent (as opposed to the OG fax machines that dialled the recipient and "live streamed" the pages by scanning and sending at 9600 baud or whatever the handshake was at), and most buffers threw an error when they were full (usually because the sender was taking the piss) and never sent. Shame.
Cheers. It also made me think of a bit of newspaper advert abuse that an old colleague of mine told me.
Another pair of people, another spat over something minor, but one wasn't to be outdone. In the first week of January, he put an advert into a local popular newspaper, saying something similar to:
Leave your old Christmas trees with me for a charity project! Bring your Christmas trees to 45 Smith Drive, Newport*, if I'm not in then leave them on my lawn!
The net results was days worth of Christmas trees being drive-by yeeted into his garden. Said it was the best 50p per word they'd ever spent.
*edit: I'm sorry if you live at 45 Smith Drive in Newport, and I hope the Christmas tree gods are unkind to you!
Story time!
I forget the origin of the beef, but I remember a guy who grew up with another dude who was just a complete tool to my friend. It wasn't outright bullying, but general arseholery and making his life difficult when it really didn't need to be.
Anyway, my friend has a long memory and a longer grudge streak. I was finishing college at a time when print media was still king but social media was exploding in popularity.
My friend has decided "fuck this, I'm going to ruin this dude's life for a bit". He put an advert in the local paper or freeads (for non UK spuds: the freeads or classifieds is a newspaper-style private advertisements in one place - like a print version of a snapshot of Facebook Marketplace or Vinted for a local area).
Free TV. Call 07000100100 for details.
Anyone to this day knows that anything advertised for free attracts the most annoying, persistent, and unhinged type of people on earth. The freeads was published the following week. I didn't socialise with the guy on the business end of my friend's wrath on account of him being a massive cockwomble, but I understand his phone started to go wild with texts and phone calls asking about a free television - bear in mind that cheap consumer TVs weren't really a thing and a TV purchase was a "buy it for life" thing at the time, so a free TV was just an amazing deal.
It would appear the demand for a free television was too much for the guy. In true mid 2000's fashion, a social media message went up from the clearly annoyed guy, to the tune of:
Hi all, I've started to get loads of prank calls, so I've changed my number. It's 07000200200 now.
With the internet and social interactions online still in the wild west era, this was fairly common. My friend chuckled to himself. The plan worked. Not satisfied with that though, he put another advert in the following week's freeads:
Free TV. Call 07000200200 for details.
The publication date rolls around a few days later, and tens of thousands of this newspaper gets delivered to stores across the region. Obviously, mere hours after the thin yellow paper booklets are released to the public, the idiot's phone starts going banzai. Dozens of calls a day from all corners of society, relentlessly asking about collection and delivery of a television at no charge.
The guy was livid.
Livid, but not smart. He had gotten pissed off with the calls, and was unable to stop the barrage of bargain hunters hitting his digits to get a gogglebox gratis. He went back to his phone network operator and makes the appropriate changes. Not one for releasing his number in a private, carefully controlled manner - the gist of the following was posted to social media a few weeks later:
Not sure why I'm getting so many prank calls, and my mobile network are useless. My new number is 07000300300. Let me know if someone asks you for it because I'm getting annoyed.
Most normal folk wouldn't have risked being burned a third time and released their number in person or by SMS message. That said, I suspect the Venn diagram of twats like this guy who had spent an elder childhood making people's lives difficult; and those who don't appreciate the drawbacks of one-to-many communication, aren't far off a circle.
My friend sees this status update or whatever it was called back then, cuts out the reply slip of the freeads, enclosed his payment, and sends in the following for publication the following week:
Free TV. Call 07000300300 for details. Shout "camel" when I answer so I know you're genuine.
Hilarity likely ensued. My friend found immense satisfaction that the guy who tried to socially ostracise him and physically manhandle him for "fun" was now getting Guantanamo Bay levels of psychological torture, and 90% of calls that he answered started with someone hollering the name of a type of Saharan quardraped species.
The guy never posted anything after that. Not his new number, not any angry rants, nothing at all.
I respected my pal for that stunt. So much mental torture for so little effort. I lost touch with the friend but I still think of him now and then, and I hope that he still chuckles to himself with that prank under his belt, because I certainly do.
Depends how want to feel really! It's rhyming slang for "dead". Apologies if it wasn't clear.
It's the antithesis of "vote blue no matter who".
"Vote red, if your kids are brown bread".
I actually feel dirty just writing that.
Yes!! That said, that Genie SIM started my love affair with not giving a fuck and writing multipage messages, which at the time was a bit of a "fuck you" to folk whose phones didn't like them one bit and presented them as individual messages in their inbox.
Didn't need the double ticks in those days, bitch we had read receipts and awwww yeah you had a message to prove you were left on read 😂
It does. I'm in the UK so 90% of the lagers or beers are between 4 and 5%.
If you get on the Special Brew then going into double figures will probably ruin you the following day. That said, start hooning a couple of slabs of Carling C2 and you'll spend most of your time sobering up pissing in the bog/up the neighbours fence/in your mate's wardrobe in the middle of a dream.