July 2002 Archives - wibbler.com

Elli’s Text Message

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Portsmouth – It all started so innocently. Ala’a was having a birthday meal, and Elli decided this was a prime opportunity to trade stories of sexual shananigans with her girlfriends over dinner. She got so hot under the collar, a raunchy text message to her eager boyfriend was in order, and she duly pumped into her phone all the remarkably rude things she could think of, involving squid, condoms and mile-high clubs. Once finished, she scrolled through the phonebook and pressed SEND. As the text message flitted away into the ether, a look of sheer horror crossed her face…
Guildford – Yours truly was batting about at my girlfriends house, neatly arranging the pile of unread FHMs into a suitable corner, and wondering what on earth to do next. BEEP BEEP. BEEP BEEP. My mobile phone vibrated enticingly. A text message has arrived.
It was from Elli.
Now, I could tell you what the text message said, but I’m FAR too good a friend to tell you all. Aren’t I?

Cheer Jac Up – Urgently

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You can always tell when Jac‘s a little under the weather. Highly amusing text messages to his phone are never replied. I’ve sent many recently, one involving a goat, but did I get replies? Nope. Just tonight his mother forced him to watch a programme on self-confidence, and afterwards presented him a self-hypnosis confidence building tape. *snigger* So, cheer the little sod up. Email him. Visit him. Show him some lurve. Hell, get down and dirty with him if he floats your boat. We’ll all thank you for it…

New Menu

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And there we have the new menu, you lucky, lucky things. It’s more of an admission of defeat, really – the blocks looked nice, but were as user friendly as shrink-wrap….

Catching Up

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Well, a thoroughly poor showing from me of late. I humbly apologise. It’s not as if I haven’t been doing anything. We all went to Chessington World of Adventures on Saturday, got slightly concerned when the scariest ride there, Samurai, broke down just before I hopped on, got soaked to the skin on Rameses Revenge, and got thoroughly sunburnt which, frankly, was a shock. And I met up with a few friends last night who I hadn’t seen for ages – caught up on all the gossip (I’m a gossip-hoarder, me). Which was also nice. No, the main reason I haven’t been scribbling rubbish on here recently is the SHEER VOLUME of stuff to do at work recently. We’re moving offices, and i’m the only technical guy there (trusting me with it all, what were they thinking?). I’m hoping to wake up next Thursday morning, with it all magically in place. I found out yesterday that it might not happen quite that easily…

Fun-Filled Balloon Hat

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I’m ashamed. I was in Woking the other day, window-shopping and reminiscing on the days of studentdom when i could actually afford pointless things (other than those plastic bucket and spades in the obligatory 1 pound shops) when i stumbled on a man in a silly balloon hat, offering for “only a pound, mister” similar multi-coloured balloon extravaganzas. I couldn’t resist – I duly purchased a hat with a little balloon doggy on it. I was as happy as a pig in the proverbial, I really was. Until I walked off, straight into a huge man with a dog and a coat like a cut-down horse blanket, who clearly hadn’t seen a bath in months. He was selling the Big Issue so he could stay out of the rain for just one night. For only a pound. Which I had just spent on a silly hat. After giving him a weak smile, pointing by way of explanation at my fun-filled hat, I slunk off, thoroughly embarrassed. As I passed, I could hear him muttering, with a face like a dog chewing a wasp, “Bloody balloon bastard, stealing all my trade.” He strode off in the direction of the balloon seller, wad of Big Issues held in a highly threatening manner. I fear the balloon seller has paid a high price for his success…

Stage 1

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And here’s Stage 1 of the wibbler.com identity crisis. “Great,” says Jac, Nick, Paul D and the rest of ’em, “You’ve changed everything BUT the menu.” Patience, you.