Street candy..have you been a victim?
04 April 2006, 07:34 AM
#1
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Street candy..have you been a victim?
http://www.pistonheads.co.uk/news/de...?storyId=13556
Now the weathers getting warmer ..keep your eyes on the road guys!!
Now the weathers getting warmer ..keep your eyes on the road guys!!
04 April 2006, 07:56 AM
#3
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LOL
When my mate passed his test at 17 we were "cruising" in his dads Allegro SE (it was ugly enough but at least it wasn't the Vanden Plas
) we spot some Candy at a bus stop and nearly rear end the slowed traffic, 10 seconds later a transit van does the same thing but ploughs into us, I'll never forget the Pioneer speaker covers pinging off on impact and landing in the front with us, the 80's ones with the fins on top, classy 
obviously the all agro was a complete mess, shame
When my mate passed his test at 17 we were "cruising" in his dads Allegro SE (it was ugly enough but at least it wasn't the Vanden Plas
) we spot some Candy at a bus stop and nearly rear end the slowed traffic, 10 seconds later a transit van does the same thing but ploughs into us, I'll never forget the Pioneer speaker covers pinging off on impact and landing in the front with us, the 80's ones with the fins on top, classy obviously the all agro was a complete mess, shame
04 April 2006, 08:58 AM
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Have to admit to rolling into a bollard while looking at a young lady with a rather large bust. Was worth it as did get a date with her !
Richard
Richard
04 April 2006, 09:06 AM
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Originally Posted by rsarjantson
Have to admit to rolling into a bollard while looking at a young lady with a rather large bust. Was worth it as did get a date with her !
Richard
Richard
04 April 2006, 09:25 AM
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Its very easy to do - Ive had a few close ones where Ive been checking out roadside totty, then looked back at the road to see the car in front stopped!
One of my mates crashed into the back of a van whilst checking out a bird on a bus-stop - funny thing was there was 3 of them in the car, and none of them clocked the traffic in front stopping as they were all checking out the talent!
One of my mates crashed into the back of a van whilst checking out a bird on a bus-stop - funny thing was there was 3 of them in the car, and none of them clocked the traffic in front stopping as they were all checking out the talent!
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04 April 2006, 01:52 PM
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I once ran into the back of a Saab outside Yorkshire TV in Leeds while checking out some Street Candy's swwweeet sweeet ***.
Put a dent into the front wing, the geezer drove off, mustn't have realised I'd hit him (dumbass) so I went to the glaziers near me, asked to borrow a suction cup they carry glass with, and I pulled the dent out haha
Put a dent into the front wing, the geezer drove off, mustn't have realised I'd hit him (dumbass) so I went to the glaziers near me, asked to borrow a suction cup they carry glass with, and I pulled the dent out haha
04 April 2006, 05:35 PM
#18
Scooby Regular
Ah, Tit Monday. It's not that far off now, that glorious day when, heading into work on the bus, or walking to the Tube, or sitting on the train, you find yourself suddenly chirpier than you have been in months. You find yourself smiling at strangers again. There is a mild involuntary tumescence in your trousers that comes and goes throughout the morning with the comforting regularity of a heartbeat.
And then you get a text around lunchtime from a mate which says: "At last, Tit Monday!" And you instantly understand why you are so happy. For Tit Monday is that special day in the year when, for the first time, the temperature rises above that magical point which causes girls getting dressed in the morning to decide to show a bit of skin.
After months of dull colours and chunky knit, the world's birds suddenly dive into last summer's wardrobe (they've not had chance to buy this season's stuff) and chuck it on without a thought. Your urban landscape is suddenly lightened with acres of naked arm and leg and, after many dark months of burrowing, breasts rising to the surface like moles at dusk.
Big breasts in white work shirts straining at the buttons. Small breasts braless in vest tops, the nipples frotted by ribby fabrics. Breasts in summer dresses bouncing in the distance so that they catch your eye before you even notice there is someone wearing them. Breasts nudging out from the crowd at traffic islands, quivering to cross the road...
And you know it is nearly summer. For previous generations, the arrival of spring was heralded by the sound of the first cuckoo. For us, it is Tit Monday.
Not that it always falls on a Monday. Like Easter, Tit Monday is a moveable feast. Last year it fell on a Friday. Friday 29 April, to be precise, when temperatures maxed out at 22.1C after nothing much above 16C all year. It last fell on a Monday in 2004, when temperatures leapt to 22C on 24 April.
And then, of course, there is Tit Monday Night. You see, in early summer, temperatures drop off very dramatically when night falls (Tit Friday 2005 dropped away to a parky 11.8C). But the dollies are not prepared. Slightly stunned by the morning heat, they drag out the summer clothes but forget to bring a cardie (a mistake they will not make again until next year), so that
when they're all standing outside The Apartment after work celebrating the arrival of spring, their barely covered nipples have no protection from the cold. It's like a Bring-and-Buy sale where everyone has brought hat pegs.
It's like a prog-rock gig where, instead of lighters, everyone is holding up nipples.
So when will Tit Monday fall this year? Will you be the first to text your mates with the announcement? Do not shoot your bolt too early. There will be false starts. You will smell fresh cut grass and see a couple of early starters and feel compelled to declare Tit Monday. But your more level-headed friends will tell you to hold your horses, keep your powder dry, don't fire until you see the whites of their bra straps
As the poet said:
One bold Belfast slapper in a bikini doth not a summer make.
And then you get a text around lunchtime from a mate which says: "At last, Tit Monday!" And you instantly understand why you are so happy. For Tit Monday is that special day in the year when, for the first time, the temperature rises above that magical point which causes girls getting dressed in the morning to decide to show a bit of skin.
After months of dull colours and chunky knit, the world's birds suddenly dive into last summer's wardrobe (they've not had chance to buy this season's stuff) and chuck it on without a thought. Your urban landscape is suddenly lightened with acres of naked arm and leg and, after many dark months of burrowing, breasts rising to the surface like moles at dusk.
Big breasts in white work shirts straining at the buttons. Small breasts braless in vest tops, the nipples frotted by ribby fabrics. Breasts in summer dresses bouncing in the distance so that they catch your eye before you even notice there is someone wearing them. Breasts nudging out from the crowd at traffic islands, quivering to cross the road...
And you know it is nearly summer. For previous generations, the arrival of spring was heralded by the sound of the first cuckoo. For us, it is Tit Monday.
Not that it always falls on a Monday. Like Easter, Tit Monday is a moveable feast. Last year it fell on a Friday. Friday 29 April, to be precise, when temperatures maxed out at 22.1C after nothing much above 16C all year. It last fell on a Monday in 2004, when temperatures leapt to 22C on 24 April.
And then, of course, there is Tit Monday Night. You see, in early summer, temperatures drop off very dramatically when night falls (Tit Friday 2005 dropped away to a parky 11.8C). But the dollies are not prepared. Slightly stunned by the morning heat, they drag out the summer clothes but forget to bring a cardie (a mistake they will not make again until next year), so that
when they're all standing outside The Apartment after work celebrating the arrival of spring, their barely covered nipples have no protection from the cold. It's like a Bring-and-Buy sale where everyone has brought hat pegs.
It's like a prog-rock gig where, instead of lighters, everyone is holding up nipples.
So when will Tit Monday fall this year? Will you be the first to text your mates with the announcement? Do not shoot your bolt too early. There will be false starts. You will smell fresh cut grass and see a couple of early starters and feel compelled to declare Tit Monday. But your more level-headed friends will tell you to hold your horses, keep your powder dry, don't fire until you see the whites of their bra straps
As the poet said:
One bold Belfast slapper in a bikini doth not a summer make.
04 April 2006, 05:52 PM
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Originally Posted by windyboy
Ah, Tit Monday. It's not that far off now, that glorious day when, heading into work on the bus, or walking to the Tube, or sitting on the train, you find yourself suddenly chirpier than you have been in months. You find yourself smiling at strangers again. There is a mild involuntary tumescence in your trousers that comes and goes throughout the morning with the comforting regularity of a heartbeat.
And then you get a text around lunchtime from a mate which says: "At last, Tit Monday!" And you instantly understand why you are so happy. For Tit Monday is that special day in the year when, for the first time, the temperature rises above that magical point which causes girls getting dressed in the morning to decide to show a bit of skin.
After months of dull colours and chunky knit, the world's birds suddenly dive into last summer's wardrobe (they've not had chance to buy this season's stuff) and chuck it on without a thought. Your urban landscape is suddenly lightened with acres of naked arm and leg and, after many dark months of burrowing, breasts rising to the surface like moles at dusk.
Big breasts in white work shirts straining at the buttons. Small breasts braless in vest tops, the nipples frotted by ribby fabrics. Breasts in summer dresses bouncing in the distance so that they catch your eye before you even notice there is someone wearing them. Breasts nudging out from the crowd at traffic islands, quivering to cross the road...
And you know it is nearly summer. For previous generations, the arrival of spring was heralded by the sound of the first cuckoo. For us, it is Tit Monday.
Not that it always falls on a Monday. Like Easter, Tit Monday is a moveable feast. Last year it fell on a Friday. Friday 29 April, to be precise, when temperatures maxed out at 22.1C after nothing much above 16C all year. It last fell on a Monday in 2004, when temperatures leapt to 22C on 24 April.
And then, of course, there is Tit Monday Night. You see, in early summer, temperatures drop off very dramatically when night falls (Tit Friday 2005 dropped away to a parky 11.8C). But the dollies are not prepared. Slightly stunned by the morning heat, they drag out the summer clothes but forget to bring a cardie (a mistake they will not make again until next year), so that
when they're all standing outside The Apartment after work celebrating the arrival of spring, their barely covered nipples have no protection from the cold. It's like a Bring-and-Buy sale where everyone has brought hat pegs.
It's like a prog-rock gig where, instead of lighters, everyone is holding up nipples.
So when will Tit Monday fall this year? Will you be the first to text your mates with the announcement? Do not shoot your bolt too early. There will be false starts. You will smell fresh cut grass and see a couple of early starters and feel compelled to declare Tit Monday. But your more level-headed friends will tell you to hold your horses, keep your powder dry, don't fire until you see the whites of their bra straps
As the poet said:
One bold Belfast slapper in a bikini doth not a summer make.
And then you get a text around lunchtime from a mate which says: "At last, Tit Monday!" And you instantly understand why you are so happy. For Tit Monday is that special day in the year when, for the first time, the temperature rises above that magical point which causes girls getting dressed in the morning to decide to show a bit of skin.
After months of dull colours and chunky knit, the world's birds suddenly dive into last summer's wardrobe (they've not had chance to buy this season's stuff) and chuck it on without a thought. Your urban landscape is suddenly lightened with acres of naked arm and leg and, after many dark months of burrowing, breasts rising to the surface like moles at dusk.
Big breasts in white work shirts straining at the buttons. Small breasts braless in vest tops, the nipples frotted by ribby fabrics. Breasts in summer dresses bouncing in the distance so that they catch your eye before you even notice there is someone wearing them. Breasts nudging out from the crowd at traffic islands, quivering to cross the road...
And you know it is nearly summer. For previous generations, the arrival of spring was heralded by the sound of the first cuckoo. For us, it is Tit Monday.
Not that it always falls on a Monday. Like Easter, Tit Monday is a moveable feast. Last year it fell on a Friday. Friday 29 April, to be precise, when temperatures maxed out at 22.1C after nothing much above 16C all year. It last fell on a Monday in 2004, when temperatures leapt to 22C on 24 April.
And then, of course, there is Tit Monday Night. You see, in early summer, temperatures drop off very dramatically when night falls (Tit Friday 2005 dropped away to a parky 11.8C). But the dollies are not prepared. Slightly stunned by the morning heat, they drag out the summer clothes but forget to bring a cardie (a mistake they will not make again until next year), so that
when they're all standing outside The Apartment after work celebrating the arrival of spring, their barely covered nipples have no protection from the cold. It's like a Bring-and-Buy sale where everyone has brought hat pegs.
It's like a prog-rock gig where, instead of lighters, everyone is holding up nipples.
So when will Tit Monday fall this year? Will you be the first to text your mates with the announcement? Do not shoot your bolt too early. There will be false starts. You will smell fresh cut grass and see a couple of early starters and feel compelled to declare Tit Monday. But your more level-headed friends will tell you to hold your horses, keep your powder dry, don't fire until you see the whites of their bra straps
As the poet said:
One bold Belfast slapper in a bikini doth not a summer make.
04 April 2006, 08:51 PM
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my 1st crash was also down to "street candy"
and it was in my mum's car.
it was a metro gta so i did her a favour really
it was only 6 months old
went over to the girl after all insurance crap was sorted, told her it was her fault (they were outside the cinema, thank **** the queue wasn't very long)
ended up gettin her number
is this the only recorded event of a bloke pulling whilst driving (or crashing) a metro
and it was in my mum's car.
it was a metro gta so i did her a favour really
it was only 6 months old
went over to the girl after all insurance crap was sorted, told her it was her fault
(they were outside the cinema, thank **** the queue wasn't very long)ended up gettin her number
is this the only recorded event of a bloke pulling whilst driving (or crashing) a metro
04 April 2006, 11:08 PM
#23
Originally Posted by pauly
my 1st crash was also down to "street candy"
and it was in my mum's car.
it was a metro gta so i did her a favour really
it was only 6 months old
went over to the girl after all insurance crap was sorted, told her it was her fault (they were outside the cinema, thank **** the queue wasn't very long)
ended up gettin her number
is this the only recorded event of a bloke pulling whilst driving (or crashing) a metro
and it was in my mum's car.
it was a metro gta so i did her a favour really
it was only 6 months old
went over to the girl after all insurance crap was sorted, told her it was her fault
(they were outside the cinema, thank **** the queue wasn't very long)ended up gettin her number
is this the only recorded event of a bloke pulling whilst driving (or crashing) a metro
Top marks!
My street totty buggered off before I could get her number
- whilst I was left deliberating with a women passenger trying to win an oscar by overacting whiplash injuries (even her husband smirked and rolled his eyes at me - it was a 10mph impact! )
04 April 2006, 11:11 PM
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Big breasts in white work shirts straining at the buttons. Small breasts braless in vest tops, the nipples frotted by ribby fabrics. Breasts in summer dresses bouncing in the distance so that they catch your eye before you even notice there is someone wearing them. Breasts nudging out from the c
rowd at traffic islands, quivering to cross the road..
mmmmmmmmmmmmm wipes away the dribble from my chin
mick
rowd at traffic islands, quivering to cross the road..
mmmmmmmmmmmmm wipes away the dribble from my chin
mick
04 April 2006, 11:25 PM
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I remember years ago just after traffic lights were put up on the road we drove home, my workmate and myself were traveling home from work. he was driving at the time, i looked up and noticed the lights were at red with a fairly big queue of traffic and he was still sitting at about 60 whilst looking out the side window
I hit him and shouted "the fecking lights are at red" he slammed the anchors on and the van started skidding over the white lines, driver coming towards us was flashing his lights and sounding the horn, like that was gonna save his *** from a Mercedes 410 hah, anyway he managed to stop withought hitting anything. I said "what the **** were you doing, day dreaming?" he replied "naw I was looking at the sheep in the field" .. The skid marks were there for weeks (not the ones on my seat, the ones on the road)
So I assume he was a fecking sheep *******
I hit him and shouted "the fecking lights are at red" he slammed the anchors on and the van started skidding over the white lines, driver coming towards us was flashing his lights and sounding the horn, like that was gonna save his *** from a Mercedes 410 hah, anyway he managed to stop withought hitting anything. I said "what the **** were you doing, day dreaming?" he replied "naw I was looking at the sheep in the field" .. The skid marks were there for weeks (not the ones on my seat, the ones on the road)
So I assume he was a fecking sheep *******
Last edited by Mollox; 04 April 2006 at 11:27 PM.
05 April 2006, 12:11 AM
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Originally Posted by windyboy
Ah, Tit Monday. It's not that far off now, that glorious day when, heading into work on the bus, or walking to the Tube, or sitting on the train, you find yourself suddenly chirpier than you have been in months. You find yourself smiling at strangers again. There is a mild involuntary tumescence in your trousers that comes and goes throughout the morning with the comforting regularity of a heartbeat.
.
.
They are in the car, we are standing outside looking down and inside, its like a secret recipe for the finest cake known to mankind.
this can work to a disadvantage when a fat stinker comes in, and she has forgot that her purse is on the passenger foot well and over she bends to pick it up and we get an eyeful of hairy g-string
05 April 2006, 01:09 PM
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Originally Posted by pauly
my 1st crash was also down to "street candy"
and it was in my mum's car.
it was a metro gta so i did her a favour really
it was only 6 months old
and it was in my mum's car.
it was a metro gta so i did her a favour really
it was only 6 months old
A hetrosexual man in a Metro?
The things we drive when we're young!! Who will admit to being really sad by owning up to nearly crashing because a car got their attention???? No-one?? Ok, let me be the first: Dodge Viper, on the M25 about a week ago!
Ns04
05 April 2006, 01:15 PM
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Originally Posted by speye91
Big breasts in white work shirts straining at the buttons. Small breasts braless in vest tops, the nipples frotted by ribby fabrics. Breasts in summer dresses bouncing in the distance so that they catch your eye before you even notice there is someone wearing them. Breasts nudging out from the c
rowd at traffic islands, quivering to cross the road..
mmmmmmmmmmmmm wipes the dribble off from her chin
mick
rowd at traffic islands, quivering to cross the road..
mmmmmmmmmmmmm wipes the dribble off from her chin
mick
Sorry, couldn't resist. I will grow up.........one day!