Things You Can't Explain

I've had my iPod Shuffle since Christmas last year. I've used it every single day since. Because it's full of album tracks that I often haven't heard before I like to know who I'm listening to - and because it doesn't have a screen you press a button on the Shuffle and a woman with a posh accent tells you the name of the song and the artist.

Now I've done this over 1000 times since Christmas and it's always been the same woman informing me the name of the song.

But while listening to it this morning a bloke with a Caribbean accent informed me I was listening to a Daddy Freddy track. What the fuck?! I almost wet myself. Is my iPod haunted?

I simply cannot explain what happened. When I tried it again it was back to the posh woman but I know I didn't imagine it.

Have you ever experienced something strange you can't explain (Owen Coyle's tactics don't count because it's too obvious)?

Yes this afternoon i went for a siesta, after an hr i got up and found a lump the size of a gob stopper on the back off my hand.
I no i didn't bash it and i haven't been bitten, very strange.
Shall keep you updated tomorrow (if i am still here).

Mr Magoo wrote:Yes this afternoon i went for a siesta, after an hr i got up and found a lump the size of a gob stopper on the back off my hand.
I no i didn't bash it and i haven't been bitten, very strange.
Shall keep you updated tomorrow (if i am still here).

If you were sleeping how do you know you weren't bitten?

I was once in Bury town centre and helped an old boy across the road at a zebra crossing, he had a massive shopping bag and a walking stick and was struggling to the bus station.
As I left him at his bus stand at the interchange he turns round and says,
"Thank you Richard"
"No worries", I said and went about my day.
About 5 minutes later it struck me that at no time had I told him my name. It wasn't written anywhere about my person. I still puzzle over it. I swear I'd never met him before. I did grow up in Bury til I was 11 so maybe he knew me as a kid but I doubt it. That was weird.

Natasha Whittam wrote:

Mr Magoo wrote:Yes this afternoon i went for a siesta, after an hr i got up and found a lump the size of a gob stopper on the back off my hand.
I no i didn't bash it and i haven't been bitten, very strange.
Shall keep you updated tomorrow (if i am still here).

If you were sleeping how do you know you weren't bitten?

I wasn't really asleep, it was a eyeball rest.

Beautiful young ladies who really like me. The list includes Miss Jamaica contestants. I guess I am just awesome like that, but I really can't explain it otherwise.

I've had a rifle through it, but I can't find the right page to type out the passage, but when anyone asks about totally unexplained stuff, I always think of the autobiography of Howard Marks. He describes in it a meeting he has with a former university pal, who now works for the secret services. Marks is an international dope smuggler. Anyway, at this meeting, his ex pal leaves the room. Marks looks at the bookcase, is strangely drawn to a particular book, walks over to it, picks it up, and opens it to find a photograph of himself hidden in it. He describes it as the single least explicable event of his life, and this guy has had an eventful life. Mr Nice is the best autobiography I've ever read, and believe me when I say I have read hundreds.

Some Darwen slapper claimed I was the father of her child. I knew I wasn't because I would never have been that desperate, no matter how pissed I was. She paid for a DNA test and it turned out I was the father. Thank fuck she cut me out of her life.

largehat wrote:I've had a rifle through it, but I can't find the right page to type out the passage, but when anyone asks about totally unexplained stuff, I always think of Mr Nice, the autobiography of Howard Marks. He describes in it a meeting he has with a former university pal, who now works for the secret services. Marks is an international dope smuggler. Anyway, at this meeting, his ex pal leaves the room. Marks looks at the bookcase, is strangely drawn to a particular book, walks over to it, picks it up, and opens it to find a photograph of himself hidden in it. He describes it as the single least explicable event of his life, and this guy has had an eventful life. Mr Nice is the best autobiography I've ever read, and believe me when I say I have read hundreds.

Is Howard Marks that black guy off the Halifx adverts?

And change that bloody avatar, it gives me the creeps.

Mr Nice is a great book. I've seen a couple of Howards live shows and he's an interesting guy.

Natasha Whittam wrote:

Is Howard Marks that black guy off the Halifx adverts?

And change that bloody avatar, it gives me the creeps.

No, he isn't off the Halifax adverts.

I don't tell you what to have as your avatar. It's there to annoy the likes of yourself, Sluffy, Angry Dad, Reebok Trotter etc who write the same things about Coyle every time you post.

Bernard Dennis Park wrote:Mr Nice is a great book. I've seen a couple of Howards live shows and he's an interesting guy.

I saw him live once, about 9 years ago now.

The film adaptation of the book was absolutely abysmal though. Really, really should never have been made.

The film was shit. I actually saw him at Glastonbury once. Being driven past the pyramid stage in a 4x4. Big spliff in his mouth.

Bernard Dennis Park wrote:The film was shit. I actually saw him at Glastonbury once. Being driven past the pyramid stage in a 4x4. Big spliff in his mouth.

Ha, ha, that's where I saw him too. He was giving one of his talks on a stage in the south east corner that was only there one year, called The Lost Stage. They grossly underestimated his popularity, there was massive congestion to get into the field, and when I finally got in there, he was far too far away to make out his face, and there were no big screens. Having read his book 3-4 times I was a little taken aback by his voice, it's nothing like the voice that went through my head as I read his book.

He gives a talk every year on a Sunday morning I think. I'm usually in my sleeping bag and miss it though.

Bernard Dennis Park wrote:He gives a talk every year on a Sunday morning I think. I'm usually in my sleeping bag and miss it though.

Really? I've only ever seen him in the programme that one time. Anyway, it wasn't that great when I saw him. He spent 10 minutes reading a short story about a guy making a spliff. Think I'd rather be in my sleeping bag too.

He's definitely been on a few times when I've been there. I've never gone to watch though. I've seen him in Manchester and St Helens in the past though and his shows were quite good.

someone keeps stealing my knickers off the washing line. why?

1- Its a poor woman that cant afford any.
2- Its a tranny that cant afford any.
3- Its a young lad thats got bored with his sisters.
4- Its an old perv thats watching porn films with them on his head.
5- Its some one that fancies you.

Angry Dad wrote:
4- Its an old perv thats watching porn films with them on his head.