Gym Story.....

[shifty_git]

Any guys remember these stories?????

Originally posted by
Sir Victorian guy, V.C.
Knight of the Garter and Member of the Victorian Order

OUTRAGED at 'Bags not allowed in Gym' rule!!

Greeting Brothers,

The other day, I was informed by the manager at the gym I was training at that my workout bag is not permitted in the gym. I hate being discriminated against due to my Herculean, chiselled physique.

I was training with my chauffeur and personal security advisor, Nobby, and had a dufflebag with all the essentials- straps, belt, dipping belt, a Weider 'Arm Blaster', a jug of protein powder, a container of creatiine, needles, amps, a bottle of anadrol , cheque drops , gloves, a clean set of underwear (just in case while, doing squats, I shit myself), an entire roasted chicken to snack on between sets, a tub of potato salad for carbs, a bottle of whiskey I nurse throughout the day, and a fistful of cigars- nothing special really. Simply the basic accoutrements of a dedicated Iron Warrior. I carry it with me about the gym.
Nobby and I set up shop at the squat rack and while doing a set of 600 pound arse-to-the floor squats, a nasal, annoyingly effiminate voice barked "Sorry, no gym bags fellows. You must keep it in the change area." I racked the weight, and turned to see a pencil-necked weasel of a man standing there with his arms folded, looking indignant. "And who, may I ask, would you be?" I asked.
"I am an employee of this gym. Floor manager, in fact." Nobby and I moved closer to him, and he saw the end was near. His eyes bulged in fear. "Well then, 'floor manager', I have something on the floor for you to 'manage'" I sneered, and promptly spat a large, green snotter onto the floor. Nobby then seized the 'floor manager' and threw him, face down, onto the snot and I stood over him, screaming "HOW DOES THAT FEEL, YOU ****ING BASTARD! NO BAGS EH? HAPPY NOW, YOU ****!!" .
Roaring with rage, Nobby and I put the boots to the man, and after breaking all of his ribs we sat down, lit up cigars, and opened the bottle of whiskey. Other gym members had fled the premises, and as the sound of police sirens grew near, Nobby and I decided to head elsewhere to train, and stormed off.
What is the problem here, brothers? Anyone else get treated so poorly at the gym?

[shifty_git]

Originally posted by
Sir Victorian guy, V.C.
Knight of the Garter and Member of the Victorian Order


Caught injecting in the locker room!


Ladies and Gentlemen,

The other day, at the gym, I was in the locker room with my chauffeur/training assistant/security advisor, Nobby, getting in some injections post-workout. Using 10cc, 23 gauge needles, Nobby gave me a 8cc shot of test in each buttock, then I injected 5cc of decca into my traps, and, running out of places to inject (the quads and shoulders had taken their share a couple of days previously) I decided to get a couple of cc's into my hand- in the muscle between the thumb and first finger. Just as I was drawing some tren , in walked another gym member. Used syringes, amps, vials, bloodied cotton swabs, an empty bottle of rubbing alcohol, syringe wrappers, etc., littered the changeroom floor as Nobby had done his round of injections before me, and the litter was considerable. This ignorant fellow comes in, a 40ish, pony-tailed, spandex wearing 'here-to-get-toned' wanker and, as he steps over the sea of amps, proceeds to look scornfully, and worriedly, at Nobby and I. "Tsk tsk tsk!" he hissed.

"What, may I ask, are YOU looking at?" I inquired.
"Fookin bahstahd!" Nobby snarled in his thick, working class London accent.
"Perhaps you, sir, could use a a bit of testosterone yourself, you scrawny ****ing wanker!" I cried. Nobby quickly drew 10cc from a bottle of test prop, and, taking his trusted motorbike chain out of our training dufflebag, crept up behind the man and in an instant had his bike chain around the man's throat. With his other hand, he rammed the syringe into the man's arse- right through his spandex- and in a second had injected the entire 10cc of test prop into the man's right buttock. Thankless for the help Nobby was simply trying to provide, he then ran screaming from the changeroom- the empty syringe still sticking out of his arse! He didn't even bother to thank Nobby for the free gear.

We sat in the changeroom lau***ng heartily. Suddenly, in stormed the manager. "This is totally unacceptable! You are banned!" he screamed. Barely were the last syllables out of his mouth when Nobby seized him, held him upside down, carried him to the washroom, shoved his head in the toilet and flushed repeatedly. Then he carried him to the gym floor and flung him out the front door. Packing our things, we stormed out! As we left the gym, throwing open the front double glass doors with such force that they swung rignt into the wall and shattered, we stopped to flip over the manager's car! That bastard!

What on earth ever happened to a man's privacy, brothers?

[shifty_git]

Originally posted by
Sir Victorian guy, V.C.
Knight of the Garter and Member of the Victorian Order

Went to McDonald's- COPS CALLED!! WTF?!


Brothers,

Lately, I have been having problems with my temper. As I outlined in 'Roid Rage ' I had an incident at Church which really made me wonder- am I indeed a bit edgy?
Lately, at McDonald's, another distressing incident occurred.

The other evening, after finishing a brutal workout, Nobby and I staggered out of the gym. Bent bars, snapped cables, holes in the floor from where a bar loaded with 800 pounds had been dropped off of my back at the end of a set of squats, all indicated that truly Herculean efforts had been made by Nobby and I. Time for the post workout meal!
The only way to get in the 15 000 calories we each needed to make our unfeasibly large muscles even more humongous was to eat McDonald's food- and lots of it.
The line up at McDonald's was frightening. Nobby and I entered, and he commented on the crowd. "Watch and learn, Nobby old chap" I remarked, and then I shoved my way up to the front of the line, elbowing ribs, tossing folk aside, and glaring down those who grumbled, before triumphantly reaching the counter. Nobby followed, chain in hand, lest any troublemakers try to protest. "We have to eat NOW, Nobby...our muscles are shrinking, for God's sake!" I cried.
There, working behind the counter mopping the floor, was - none other than- Marvin, the Down's Syndrome fellow from the gym! (see the post 'I helped out handicapped bros at the gym) "Marvin!" I cried.
Marvin looked at us, and began saying hello repeatedly. Just then the cashier addressed me-
"Good evening, Sir, and what can I get you?" the cashier asked.
"Everything you have" I snarled.
"Excuse me, Sir? Everything? I don't understand...."
"EVERYTHING!!!" I roared, gesturing to the entire array of hamburgers, fries, pies, etc., in front of us. "And make it ****ING quick, sunshine" I sneered. Nobby's glare persuaded the terrified boy to quickly begin piling every piece of food in sight onto trays- heaps of various burgers, pies, scoops and scoops of fries...etc, etc. Nobby leaned over and whispered to Marvin "Oi, Marhvin, 'urt the bahstads!". Marvin heard the order, and made a point of snatching food off of other employees, screaming 'Gimme it, you ****in bashtad!", punching them in the face, and putting it squarely on trays meant for Nobby and I!

The waiting was too much for Nobby, and he grabbed a 'Happy Meal' from the hands of a little boy and wolfed down the contents- not even bothering to unwrap the hamburger. As the young lad sniffled, I reprimanded Nobby "You bastard! Get the child something to make him feel better!". Nobby lumbered over to the plastic 'Happy Meal' toy display case, showing all 5 toys available to be collected, punched a hole in it, ripped it off the wall and handed the young lad the 5 toys that had been displayed within. He then back-hand smacked a lady in the face, snatched her take-out bag, and handed it to the happy lad. "Well done, Nobby- your kindness indeed overrunneth!" I commended him.

Our food took 5 or 6 trips to bring it all to the 3 tables we occupied, and soon we were eating our way through a mountain of food, stopping occasionally to take a swig of whiskey from the bottle I had brought in under my coat.
Some time later, our hands shaking in effort to force feed ourselves, we finally managed to eat the last bit of food. I stood up, and reeled back- well, it wouldn't be the first time I had eaten until I was sick, but brothers, we Warriors suffer the pain!
As Nobby and I staggered out, the manager called us over. "Gentlemen, we just can't have you coming in here next time and..." he wasn't quite finished when, with a "'BLAAAARRRRGGHH!!!" I vomited all over him and, staggering over to the front counter, vomited all over it as well! I needed to replace those lost calories, and seizing a tray of french fries, I threw down a few bills and headed out.
The manager followed us, informing us that he had called the police, and was quickly silenced by a smack across the face from Nobby's trusted, rusty, motorbike chain. As we headed to the Rolls Royce, Marvin burst out of the front door, brandishing a mop, and, screaming, began beating the manager with it.

As we drove off, several police cars pulled in to the McDonald's parking lot, and in the rear-view mirror I noticed several officers surrounding Marvin, and began working him over with their nightsticks, in a beating not seen since the Rodney King video!

Brothers- is it me- or those McDonald's employees? Aside from Marvin, what an insolent, lazy bunch of punks they are.

[rager]

leave the bag at home... problem solved... your welcome

[lookintogetbig]

First story is funny as hell. I hope it was fiction or else you may have a warrent out for you arrest (as Im lau***ng my ass off). HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAH

[soccer#3]

the creativity and wordin is brilliant. this guy is a serious writer

[lookintogetbig]

I agree. Pretty good.

[Bojangles69]

I did not want to read the entire thing untill I got like 3 sentences deep and realized how thought out the crap really was. Good stuff!

[*El Diablo*]

lol...

[perfectbeast2001]

Funny as hell. im going to show these to my co workers later. they will piss themselves.

[hugovsilva]

That's the spirit.

[crazyhorse1960]

you got to be kidding me shifty 600lb.squat?..,by the way a lot of different YMC have different rules even though they are all affiliated some will not let you where bandannas' or certain colors sweats due to gang activity.Oh,the music they play at the Y,lets not even go there!.peace!..

[MBaraso]

his stories were the best! Post some more..The one w/ the priest is really funny

[Ryanhallmark]

I remember that guy, that shit was so funny... Ha Ha..

[MBaraso]

Here's another one:

HEART ATTACK from roids???!!!

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Brothers,

I am wondering whether or not I should be feeling a tad guilty. Here is why:

My 85 year old grandmother, as described in an earlier post, has been taking large quantities of oral anabolics- I dissolve them in her tea, or toss them in her salad, or shove a few tabs into one of the cream buns she eats after dinner. She has gained, to date, 45 pounds and benches 225! Mind you, 200-300mg of drol, 100mg of anavar , and 100mg of dbol a day have helped!

The other day, at the gym, I was training quads with Grandmother and Nobby. We were doing front squats, yelling and groaning with intensity. Just then, I noticed a lad in a wheelchair attempting to train under the guidance of a pencil-necked geek 'personal trainer'.
I marched over, and commented "WRONG! ALL WRONG!" in his face.
"Sir..er..Rupert here (indicating the lad in the wheelchair) has cerebral palsy..really, I don't think your style of ...er..training would be right for him" he whined. "Rupert can decide for himself- can't you, Rupert?" I asked. Rupert's answer was a garbled "hynnfttttthhhhh..uuuuggghhh..."
"Sounds bloody well like a resounding YES to me!" I roared. I took a 45 pound dumbell and wrapped the fingers of his right hand around the grip. "Now, lad, curl!!" I screamed. Rupert's features contorted, his glasses- held on by a thick rubber band going round his head- slipped off to one side as he struggled with every ounce of his will to curl the 45 pound dumbell. As his face turned red, and he began sputtering "nnnggggg....fffffssssthhhhh..uuuuggg..", spewing a shower of spittle onto the floor, a crowd of lifters, including Grandmother and Nobby, crowded around him and began cheering him on. "Oi, curl the fookin thing, y'bastahd!" Nobby cheered, while others offered less inspiring support such as "C'mon Rupert...you CAN do it..".
Grandmother, however, was pure old-school. She took her umbrella, and smacked Rupert over the knees with a viscous whack! "DO as the men say, BOY!!" she screamed in his face. With a final, all out effort, and making a noise not heard from a human since John Merrick(the elephant man) walked the earth, Rupert's arm snapped up with an explosive force and swung the dumbell up! Only thing is, he swung it with too much force and it came smacking into his face, sending him and his wheelchair flipping over backwards onto the gym floor, and as he hit the floor he began having an epilleptic seizure!
Grandmother was overjoyed at his success, and as she marched over to Rupert's convulsing form to congratulate him, she stopped, seized her right bosom and went "Uuuuuggghh...arrrrghh..nnnnuuu.." and collapsed, doing a face-plant onto the floor. I hadn't seen a face-plant like that since I last watched pro wrestling.
We called a couple of ambulances for Grandmother and Rupert, and as the medics took them away, I couldn't help but wonder if Grandmother's collapse had anything to do with the steroids she was on!

Help me out here, bros. Say it isn't so!

[shifty_git]

Originally posted by
Sir Victorian guy, V.C.
Knight of the Garter and Member of the Victorian Order

OUTRAGED at 'Roid rage- TRUE story- must read!!!

Brothers,

I have read that 'roid rage ' is nonsense. Well, let me say, after Sunday's events, I KNOW roid rage is real, and it frightens me!

I have been on a bulking cycle of 2 grams of test a week and 200 mg anadrol a day for some months now, and I can tell you I definitely must be experiencing roid rage. Here is how it all happened-

Sunday began as always. I awoke in the morning, ate stacks of pancakes, several packs of sausages, 2 dozen eggs, and a 5-scoop shake of Joe Weider's 'Mega Mass', then donned one of my 1500 dollar Italian suits, and headed off for Sunday mass. My driver, Nobby, whisked me to the 500 year old Cathedral I attend every Sunday, and we both walked in and sat down most humbly and reverently.
As the mass commenced, I heard a voice behind me whispering, and some giggling, and simply EXPLODED in rage. I spun around, and screamed "Would you mind being silent, this is a HOUSE OF GOD, you tramp!!" in the face of the teenage girl who was the cause of this disturbance. The congregation was silent, even the priest stopped saying mass for a moment. The man in front of me turned around and gave me a most insulting look, as if I had somehow done something wrong here!
I sat shaking in rage at this pencil neck, and when that part of the mass came in which members turn to others and shake their hands, saying 'Peace of Christ', this man turned to me. I grasped his hand, began crushing it in a vice-like grip, and screaming.
It took 20 parishioners, including Nobby, to pull me off of him- I voluntarily released my grip, and he fell to the floor, his hand a lump of crushed bone.
Later, outside, as the ambulance took the fellow away, a hostile crowd of parishioners approached me. One of them, a woman who looked about 100 years old, 5 feet tall, and not a pound over 95, came at me brandishing an umbrella- she meant to strike me! Nobby saw this danger, and came rushing forward, clothes-lining the old witch with one of his stubby, massive arms- she was knocked backward so hard that she did a perfect back-flip, arse-over-tit, and fell to the cement like a rag doll. Then the priest approached us, and I punched him right in the face with the force of a wrecking ball, sending him to the ground, knocked out cold. Nobby took out his bike chain and, swinging it over his head, sent the rest of the hostile crowd running in terror.
Nobby and I got into the Rolls Royce and left the scene, as the blaring of police sirens grew near.
Those bastards! They were lucky I hadn't stuck about to press assault charges!

Brothers- what do you think- am I indeed suffering from 'roid rage'?

[shifty_git]

Originally posted by
Sir Victorian guy, V.C.
Knight of the Garter and Member of the Victorian Order

TRAGEDY!! Training partner dies in gym!!

Brothers,

Today I mourn the loss of a dear training partner. It was this day, 5 years ago, that he went to that great gym in the sky.

His name was Babu, and he hailed from the slums of Calcutta. My father 'purchased' him at a travelling freak show somewhere in the Orient. Standing 8 feet tall, and wei***ng in at 600 pounds, he was a monster- no doubt, the strongest man on earth. My father had Babu working in the garden, where he lumbered about watering plants and babbling to himself. One day, after witnessing Babu flip over a garbage truck in a rage over racial slurs hurled at him by the driver, I invited him along to the gym with me.

From the start, Babu was curling 315, squatting 700, and crushing benches with his enormous weight. Under my direction, he ate a side of beef daily, washed down with gallons of milk, and swallowed a handfull of anadrol pills at bedtime. Whole chickens, bones and all, were consumed in a few bites by this beast of a human. The gains came, and I had plans to unveil the 8th wonder of the world at the next 'World's Strongest Man' contest.
Nobby and I oversaw his efforts in the gym. Babu performed 800 pound front squats, front barbell raises with 225, 700 pound benches- all the while screaming out in no known language.

One awful day, however, things went amiss.
Babu, Nobby and I were at the squat rack, when Nobby and I decided to have a little bit of innocent fun- at Babu's expense.
"Oi, Babu, those lads over there say you're a big fookin golliwog!" Nobby snarled. "Yes, Babu, those fellows say you're a big paki poofter!" I added, grinning. We were pointing to a crowd of 4 fellows who trained together, and acted like they owned the gym. Babu began turning red, and, shaking with fury, sputtered "I keel dem, the farging bahstards, I farging keel dem all!!" he roared. Rising to his feet, he lumbered over and bearhugged one of the men, crushing him like an egg. Another ran over and was literally broken over Babu's knee. The remaining fellows attacked Babu with olympic bars, but to no avail. Finally, when only one of them was left standing, Nobby and I decided to join the fray, charging forward, screaming, seeking to smash the one fellow left. Babu got in the way, and we ran into him, throwing him forward. Babu stumbled into the one fellow left, and together they went through the front window of the gym, and plummeted two stories to the pavement below. Nobby and I peered out- there lay Babu, dead, on the sidewalk!
We looked about the gym. Everyone had fled. Whistling a tune by Mozart and looking as innocent as can be, I led the way out, and we made our escape!
Later on I claimed the body. We decided to cremate Babu, and send his ashes to his family in India. I would have spent the funds on a decent urn for his ashes, but Nobby suggested I save money and use an empty protein bucket, and spend the savings on gear. So that is what was done, and the ashes, in an empty Nitrotech container, were mailed (surface mail, it's cheaper) to the Calucutta slum from which Babu hailed.

So brothers, take a minute, bow your heads, and say a wee prayer for Babu. He went out like a true Iron Warrior.
I'm getting emotional now. My apologies.

[shifty_git]

Originally posted by
Sir Victorian guy, V.C.
Knight of the Garter and Member of the Victorian Order

Jehovah's Witnesses- preaching in the gym!

Brothers.

I recently became a Jehovah's Witness. And the decision to convert occured right in the gym!
One Saturday afternoon, as Nobby and I were doing some HIT grip strength exercises, and screaming with effort, an absolute angel of a woman walked by. I stopped what I was doing, and cried "Bestill my heart! BY GOD what a finely cleft, lovely arse that goes before me!" as I gazed, entranced, at the shapeliest arse I had ever seen. The woman in question gasped, then informed me she was a Jehovah's Witness, and could only date a man who was a Jehovah's Witness. So Nobby and I then and there pledged our allegiance, and the following day showed up at Kingdom Hall. "If this is what it takes to get my hands kneading those buttocks of hers, so be it!" I declared. Marvin, our good Down's Syndrome friend and fellow Iron Brother, was invited along with us, and taken aside for some thorough brainwashing.
I introduced Marvin to the Jehovah's witnesses "This here is Marvin. He may not be one of the great minds of this century- or any of the last 300 that came before it- but he is to be treated with DIGNITY!" I declared.


After sleeping through several hours of bible class, we were sent on our way with a boxful of copies of 'The Watchtower' to distribute around the gym.

We walked into the gym, and immediately began proselytizing. "Here you are, friend" I said, and handed a punk kid a copy of the Watchtower. "I ain't into this, mate" he snapped, and Nobby's chain was around his throat and choking him purple, as I screamed in his face "YOU ****ING BETTER WELL READ THIS, BOY!" then smacked his face so hard a tooth went flying out his mouth. Nobby's approach to spreading Jehovah's message was a tad more blunt. He lumbered up to folk as they were in the midst of a set, and snarling "Oi. Its the Watchtour. Fookin read it, sunshine", shoved a copy into their face.

Then, empowered by GOD, we hit the squat rack. Screaming "PRAISE JEHOVAH!!! ARRRGGH!! ****!!" I squatted down with 800 pounds loaded on the bar, and repped it out 5 times before tossing it onto the rack. The exertion was so great I had to vomit, and ran over to the window and, screaming "BLAAARRGGGH!!" spewed out a few gallons of stomach contents down onto the street below and right onto the heads of a group of muslim fellows on their way to a mosque.
They began screaming, shaking their fists at me "You farging icehole, we keel you!" they screamed. "Marvin, take care of those infidels...they are indeed DEMONS released from the abyss!" I commanded, and Nobby ceremoniously handed Marvin his coveted bike chain. Screaming "DEMONS!! DEEEMOONS!" Marvin ran screaming out of the gym, and a few seconds later rounded the corner and charged into the muslim fiends, lashing them with the bike chain. He chased them across the street, but alas- a double decker bus came screeching along, and didn't brake in time and Marvin was run over! His crumpled body lay quivering beneath the wheels of the bus. Nobby yelled out the window "ALLROIGHT MAHVIN!". No doubt, the stouthearted, coke-bottle glasses wearing Marvin will be back on his feet and in the gym, I assured myself.

To celebrate our victory, we drank whiskey till the wee hours of the morning, and then decided to drive to Kingdom Hall to spread the good news of how Marvin battled the forces of Satan. Unfortunately, Nobby was a bit intoxicated and drove the Rolls Royce through the front doors of Kingdom Hall. We staggered out, and passed out on the floor. When we awoke, we were in a cell at the police station. Luckily, a phone call from my influential father to the chief of police got us out- and we were told that there was a court order banning us from Kingdom Hall.
Bastards!!

[shifty_git]

Originally posted by
Sir Victorian guy, V.C.
Knight of the Garter and Member of the Victorian Order

High intensity training tip:MUST READ!!!

Brothers,

I have been utilizing a once-popular (mid 80s) training method that I would like to share with you all: HEIGHTENED AROUSAL MODE training. To illustrate just how potent this method is, let me tell you what went down the past week- the following is a true story.

I was sitting about the gym, with my chauffeur and security assistant, Nobby, waiting impatiently for a number of fellows from the local group home to arrive. You see I have, out of the kindness of my enlarged heart, decided to offer my time to run a 'bodybuilding for the mentally and physically handicapped' program. Finally, 6 or 7 marginalized fellows entered the gym, and after screaming "Get ****ING CHANGED NOW! YOU SODS ARE ****ING LATE!!" and smacking one of them in the face, knocking him out of his wheelchair, they hustled into the changeroom, and threw on their gymclothes.

This was the third session- I run three a week- and since we had covered bulking and injecting methods the previous two classes, tonight it was time to go over training intensity tips. "Tonight, we shall learn of a training method of yore- which helped me build THESE (as I uttered this line, I hit a double biceps pose, growling)- heightened arousal mode. Watch and learn, fools" I sneered, then proceeded to load 315 on a bar at the squat rack. Nobby seized the bar and pressed it 10 times, roaring with intensity each rep. He racked the weight, and as soon as he did I loaded another big plate on each side. "Now, through physical abuse, I will instill in Nobby a renewed sense of determination- and he WILL press that weight 10 times!" I declared. I then took a 10 pound plate and smacked Nobby in the face, screaming "10 reps! What the **** are you, a woman! NOOWWWW!!" Nobby, bleeding profusely from what looked like a broken nose, grabbed the 405 off the rack and, screaming "FOOKIN BASTAHDS!!" with each rep squeezed out 10 front military presses, then let the weight drop to the floor with a thunderous crash that shook the building, and sent plaster falling off the walls of the gym. Every man in the gym gasped at the cylcopean feat of strength, and shrank back in shame to their pathetic, weakling workouts.
"Now, let's see one of you try it..." and I stripped off a couple of plates off the bar, and turned to see Marvin eagerly volunteering.
Marvin is a down-syndrome fellow who trains at the gym, and is an avid disciple of mine. "Marvin, you have to be prepared to suffer pain...why, I'd go charging through that ****ing wall if it meant an extra pound on my bench!" I thundered. Marvin began quivering, then, screaming, turned and ran headlong towards the wall. "Er...Marvin...that was a figure of speech.." I muttered, as Marvin crashed through the wall, and broke right into the women's changeroom. Screams ensued, and soon the police arrived and hauled off a semi-conscious Marvin, and promptly charged him with sexual assault.
The workout proceeded, and Nobby gave a good old fashioned chain-whacking over the head to each member of the group and, cut and bleeding, they lifted as never before.

Are any of you bros man enough for this type of training?

[novastepp]

you got to be kidding me shifty 600lb.squat?..,by the way a lot of different YMC have different rules even though they are all affiliated some will not let you where bandannas' or certain colors sweats due to gang activity.Oh,the music they play at the Y,lets not even go there!.peace!..

someone didn't read

[SaSqUaDgE]

these are funny

[map200uk]

hahah nice stories==]

[soccer#3]

someone should nominate this guy for the pulitzer.

any more of these shifty?

[TheArtist]

please post more!
gawd those are hilarious, I think i peed a little reading the one about mcdonald's

[edmen2]

hey fellas ive been gone for a little more than a yr but i have never forgotton the adventures of svg and nobby. i can see that every couple of months these stories are bumped and here i am doing it again cause i love them so much.

[DSM4Life]

hey fellas ive been gone for a little more than a yr but i have never forgotton the adventures of svg and nobby. i can see that every couple of months these stories are bumped and here i am doing it again cause i love them so much.

I can understand you have been gone for a while but is there really a need to bump these old @$$ threads?

[edmen2]

I can understand you have been gone for a while but is there really a need to bump these old @$$ threads?

all i got to say is u should never refer to svg and nobby as old ass threads.

[Johnny_Rotten]

hahaha.

awesome.

this line made me piss myself

"Bestill my heart! BY GOD what a finely cleft, lovely arse that goes before me!"

[inky-e]

Definitely Nobel worthy!

[MASTER]

SVG was the man, no doubt. I always wondered what happened to him.

[Dukkit]

im sure his anger problems got him locked up.