A friend of our came back from New York and, amongst the gifts she had for us was a 7″ of Loving the Alien*, picked up almost completely randomly for a few cents.
How did I respond to this boon? How else, but by crying out “A VINLY!”
Mrs Moose, narrowing her eyes in that mixture of confusion and disappointment she’s perfected over the years, simply said “…….A bloody what?“
Any other instances of Afterworders falling into the chasm between this gaff and real life?
When hearing a particular phrase, saying “TMFTL”.
Done that (several times) to bemused looks
The great thing about three more from them later / TMFTL / tumfuttle is how it gives a name to a thing, like the ‘Liff’ books, or the ‘A303’ game (are village names on a sign a 50s rep actor or a Windies cricketer – the exception being Amport Monxton, of course, who was an obscure monetarist whose extreme views caused even Ayn Rand to go ‘whoa, steady’).
Of course, ‘tumfuttle’ itself is TMFTL.
I pronounce it “timfittle”
The posh (ie correct) pronunciation is ‘tumfle’.
It’s ‘tomley’, you ignorant oaf.
SIFF!
I half woke up in the middle of a dream a couple of years ago, where the strange words “butter nail” had just been uttered; just so I could mutter to myself “Three more from them later”, chuckle and then go back to sleep.
I remembered it clearly in the morning, but it took a while to remember the “band name” (I’m not sure I remember it correctly now either – could also have been “margarine nail”…and no: I don’t remember who used those words in the dream and why!)
No, you’re thinking of The Margarine Thumbtack. Two singles on Sarah records in 1988, then back to working in Dolcis.
I have been known to *thwack* a silly person.
They deserved it. They probably made the mistake of saying “who?” when responding to my fulsome praise of Stackridge, Father Francis or even (gasp) Don Estelle.
Hurray for vinlys!!!!
Mrs Moose sounds ace.
It’s your bleeding fault. You lead me astray I tell you.
Astray!
I didn’t know you smoked.
Sorry, it’s these new dentures.
Do you have a Crosley to play it on?
http://vk.com/video177196_164122007?hd=-1&t=1m58s
Obviously not.
Fucking fuck.
@Skirky played at my gig yesterday. I feel like we should have a special handshake or trouser-hem-lift routine to identify ourselves.
Well, if someone projects the image of a crumhorn in the night sky a few of us will probably show up.
I made a schoolboy error during a ‘frank exchange of views’ by referring to Mrs Bungliemutt as the Fun Prevention Officer. She saw the funny side…… eventually.
Could have been worse…
*eyes Frankly Rubbish thread*
Try explaining GLW to an Australian. He got the abbreviation, but not why I would want to refer to my Good Lady Wife. I had no answer to that, of course.
I have noticed that FPO is hardly used here these days, unlike back when the old classroom was still standing.
I think FPO is my favourite, used sparingly but to dazzling effect.
In my mind, at least.
The OP does sound rather like the synopsis of a Dr Who episode, a rather scary one at that.
A year or so ago I was in a Sally Army charity shop on Södermalm with my little daughter and a bloke came up to me and said “You’re Kaisfatdad, aren’t you?”
I could scarcely have been more gobsmacked. If a group of cybermen had wandered into the shop and started to browse through the second hand vinyl I would have been somewhat less surprised.
Did he then stick one on you, K?
Was he from You Tube with your commission cheque? 😉
We get paid direct into our Swiss bank accounts.
It -is- the 21st century, you know…
I’ve just spat my coffee all over my keyboard.
Again.
Now, that’s funny!
Sometimes I get into pointless arguments with complete strangers. Instead of addressing the topic I will launch personal attacks on those people because they don’t support the same side of politics as I do.
Then, and here’s the best part, I’ll spin on my heel and flounce out of the room, never to be seen again for weeks or months.
But then, doesn’t everyone?
You’re a nasty piece of work, you are.
It has been commented upon
Good hair, though. For your age.
Well, I think that’s important. After all, as Dave Pegg once said to me as I was leaving his dressing room “Take care man, and look after that hair”
Which one was he referring to? My guess is the crooked three-incher winding out your ear.
Peggy was very, very drunk at the time, so he may well have been seeing double.
Actually, the more I think about this anecdote, the more I’m bothered by it.
You were leaving Dave Pegg’s dressing room.
Okay, could be a perfectly innocent reason for being in another man’s dressing room. I can’t think of one right now.
He tells you to look after your hair. This is not the sort of thing one man ordinarily tells another, is it?
And he’s drunk.
Oh, in a very real sense, dear.
What a suspicious mind you have.
This is how it went. I had just done some work for a Fairport tour programme and by coincidence Peggy was touring Australia with Tull. He was in both bands at the time.
Dave rang me from Adelaide (or Sydney, I forget which) and said to pick up a couple of tickets and a backstage pass for the Perth concert.
After the Tull show (excellent) I went to his dressing room supposedly to talk about some more Fairport work he wanted me to do. By the time I got there however he was already well refreshed and the Fairport stuff was never discussed.
As I was leaving he gave me a carrier bag full of expensive wine from the Tull rider saying “the cleaners will only nick it, otherwise” and off I went into the night with his (hair) parting shot still ringing in my ears.
What year/album was the Tull show?
It would have been 1994 because the Adelaide show was the day before Perth. The current album was Catfish Rising, although it wasn’t exactly new, being released in 1991.
Ahh. I’d lightly penciled “Catfish Rising?” in my notebook, but with your confirmation will go ahead and ink now. Thanks!
I saw that tour in 92. Good show. Not a bad album either, at least not terrible… it’s aged ok. I think.
The thing I remember most was the stage was set up like a 50s house with period furniture sofas, lamps and a washing line with clothes on it. Audience members were invited up to sit on the sofa.
At the start all the band members (except Anderson, natch) came on in white lab coats with miners’ helmets with lights on the front.
I have seen Peggy’s bare bum.
That’s all.
Oh, do tell Beany
Peggy’s bare bum I’ve seen it too along with Nicol’s Swarbrick’s and Rowland’s. Leeds poly in the seventies. The four piece had gone off, calls for encore. A curtain pulled back in an above room and resplendent against the plate glass were four naked arses with F A on one I R on another. You can guess the rest. I asked Swarb about it alas he couldn’t remember which arse belonged to which member.
That’s the same story except I was in the dressing room when the eight letters were writ on 8 buttocks. I’m glad you confirmed it was not a bad dream ?
Ah but Beany can you remember who’s arse was who’s?
Whose whose
I know my own arse from my elbow. Sorry for the late reply but I was out and about pillaging charity shops today.
Jeez I mean I don’t know. I need sleep.
I yelled “bien pensant cultural Marxist so-called religion of peace” at the top of my voice in the middle of a meeting the other day.
Nobody took any notice.
THAT’S EXACTLY WHAT A MASSIVE TEACHER WOULD SAY!
Hah. You’ve already told us you’re moving to a new job.
How come “vinlys” caught on and “A Moon Shaped Poo” did not?
Apart from Woody Woodmansey’s U-Boat enjoying a resurgence of popularity, the Afterword Effect hasn’t been noticeable here.
There’s a YouTube thread right there. “Bands who sound like a euphemism for “turd””.
The Floaters.
(I’m getting nauseous with already-seen)
The Pooh Sticks.
The Bondi Cigars
Iggy Plop
or his band, The Stooles
Bingo Hand Jobbies
Fat Freddy’s Drop,
Gotcha.
Nick Drek
The Turd ‘Ere Banned
The Moody Poos
The Mersey Trout Band
In business meetings, I like to interpret any slight disagreement as a personal insult, stand up and announce I’m resigning, and then sit down again. Can’t think where I’ve got this from.
Whenever I’m in a meeting in an adjacent building to Chiz, I like to slip a note to a colleague reminding Chiz that he’s a bastard and have the colleague run it next door.
Ha! That reminds me – in strategy meetings I like to thump the table and shout THINGS ARE BAD AND THEY’RE ONLY GOING TO GET WORSE!!! and then sit back, satisfied that I have made a valuable contribution
While pointing out to everyone in the meeting that the board of directors wants them all, personally, dead.
Taking notes with a pencil and paper because paper notes are so much more, er, y’know, tactile than laptops and tablets and Moleskin notebooks are making a comeback. Y’know, Sainsburys are selling them now, in different colours and everything.
Even though I already have the notes stored digitally, I like to write them out on paper as well. I display the notebooks on my desk – ordered chronologically, then by type (ring binder, perfect bound, loose leaf, etc), but always with the most impressive one at the front.
Oh, you can’t just leave it at that, you tease! I’m sure you have a wealth of file-related anecdotes to add … I for one can’t get enough of any stories connected with office paraphernalia, filing systems and the like!
Real life? You bastards, I was told this was real life and would prepare me for life
after the clinic has cured me
Last night, I was with a crowd of workmates at a pub and a heated debate sparked up about the England football team’s best year ever. Predictably, the majority plumped for 1966 and others mentioned 1990 and 1996. Bloody civilians! What are they like??
As I hardly need to point out here…the best year for the English national side was of course 1971. We ended the entire year unbeaten after prevailing over of Malta, Greece and Switzerland. Not to mention WINNING the Home International tournament.
On reflection, perhaps I was the only one that was “heated” – the barman told me to keep the noise down! You see I care about this stuff and I see it as my role in life to educate people. Why? Because they’re stupid – that’s why. I’m writing a book about it, actually…
My teachers’ room computer at the school I work at demands a new password every, what, four weeks. You all know this being-poked-in the-chest feeling. Like, now!!
My solution? I just take random Massives. Works for me.
Funny you should say that, so do I. I stick numbers in though, just to confuse the bastards. Whoever they are.
“I just take random Massives” is a troubling sentence in the rather faecal tone of those thread.
If I had had tea, it’d be all over the screen!
Giggle.
I called somebody a wanker this morning and got force-fed a load of Starburst.