Tag Archive: porn


A brief explanation.

The Sunday Roast first appeared on Myspace in October 2008 and ran until September 2011 on that site. All of the posts are still there but unfortunately, in many of the roasts, my pictures appear to have vanished.

Thanks a bloody lot, Myspace. Many of those older posts do not make sense any more – if they ever did. Therefore, I will reproduce some of the best bits that I used to stick as Picture of the Week.

Secondhand porn magazines. Any takers?

This was in the first ever Sunday Roast, though the picture was taken later. It shows the frontage of a bookshop, and not just any old bookshop either. This one specialises in, erm … magazines, books and DVDs of a sexual nature. However, look at the notice above the door.

Book exchange? I don’t want to think about secondhand books from that shop. Imagine reading them all the while knowing where they’ve been? That’s if you could prise the pages apart. Yew!

A bit of a bell-end …

In the UK, we have a term for people who are stupid. In fact, we have many terms: Stupid, prat, twat, nob-head, and so on. All of these could be applicable to many folk I’ve known but there is also another one we use, namely – bell end. A bell end refers, of course, to the end of a man’s private parts and to call one a bell-end, is to say he is a cock, or a dick or even a prick.

Therefore, imagine my juvenile humour at seeing this street sign in Rowley Regis.

You couldn’t make it up. Just think if some guy from Bell End ever writes into the paper and they put the location next to his name.

John Smith – Bell End.

He’d never live it down.

Frosty the Snowman, was a creepy horrible soul.

This was a window display in the local Merry Hill (locally known as Merry Hell) Shopping Centre a few years back. I don’t know what the thought behind the snowman was and if it actually frightened the kids, but it sure scared the hell out of me.

The Full Monty?

Also in the Merry Hell Shopping Centre, around the same time were these fellas.

Not sure what it was they were advertising. The Emperor’s new clothes, maybe? Note the second from the right appears to be scratching his arse.

Now I know what you’re going to say, the staff were probably just dressing them. No. I remember it well. I saw them one day and the next visit, a week later, they were still the same. Perhaps as it was closing down, all the clothes had gone?

A chest of drawers … anybody.

This one is for a good friend of mine, John who originally brought it to my attention. A chest of drawers, obviously is a piece of furniture. However, this shop didn’t quite get the message right.

Chester Draws. Classic.

Gadgets you cannot live without # 1

The effective 2-way shoe stretcher. Ideal for stretching those shoes you buy that don’t fit.

Arrrgghh! Don’t buy the bloody wrong sized shoes, then.

And still on the subject of shoes …

And it’s back to Merry Hell Shopping Centre and another silly window display. This one tells us if you buy two slippers, you get the third free.

Hmmm … Haven’t actually seen many three-legged folk stumbling around recently. Are you going to tell them or shall I? Rolf Harris was only joking when he sung about Jake the Peg.

An effective method of contraception.

I don’t think this one needs any explanation, but it really was on a sign at a UK hospital.

100% safety rate … You reckon?

And while we’re on the subject …

I really can’t recall in what context I posted this picture of N-Dubz, but I can only assume it was as yet another warning for birth control.

Does the editor need an eye test.

I love this one. I think it was the Halesowen News that ran the story of poor old Robert Hadley and the burglary that took place at his home in which his grandfather’s medals were taken. You’d really think the copy editor would take more care of the sizing of pictures on the front page of the newspaper though. Wouldn’t you?

Sore loser?

When John Isner beat Nicolas Mahut, I believe it set a record for the longest tennis game in history. All’s fair in sport but the look on Mahut’s face after losing, is priceless.

Sign of the times?

This was inexplicably on a door at the Shakespeare Library Theatre a few years back.

How can you lock it if there isn’t a key?

And similarly …

This was at Park Hall Community Centre in the room where my writing group took place.

Why bother sticking a notice on the thing to say it’s broken. Just remove the bloody chair!

Quite possibly the worst advert … ever!

When Formula One supremo, Bernie Ecclestone was mugged and had his Hublot watch stolen, Hublot thought it a good move to show Bernie’s injuries to promote the fact on the basis that people will do anything to grab a Hublot.

Had the opposite effect on me. You see, I’d never buy a Hublot watch now. Not if wearing one meant I got mugged.

After the worst advert, the very worst tribute.

In the back yard of some pub in Halesowen. The tackiest tribute to Michael Jackson, ever seen.

And yet again, in Merry Hell once more …

This was also a few years back. You see, Merry Hell is not as big as some of the UKs major shopping centres. With that in mind, the best one shop could offer was for you to have your picture taken with a David Beckham … lookalike.

Great. Queue for hours to have a photo standing alongside a guy who isn’t David Beckham.

Gadgets you cannot live without # 2

A cat sleeping bag?

Yeah, I know what you’re thinking, cat owners. As if …

What a load of bollards.

These bollards in the shape of children, were erected a few years back in Leicester to stop motorists driving on the pavements.

I don’t know about you, but if I’d seen one of these out the corner of my eye, I’d have left the driver seat, hit the roof of the car, swerved the vehicle and probably crashed into a shop.

And that could happen …

And finally Esther … I am indebted to some newspaper or other, for alerting me to this which I then blatantly stole and posted on a roast.

Say no more.

Cheers

Nick

Happy Easter, everybody …

Now you may have begun to get the impression from previous posts, I’m not the most religious person around. However, I do respect beliefs and the reasons for celebrating this time of year. Easter – That’s the time we rejoice in the swapping of chocolate and force our kids to make silly crepe-paper hats. Right?

Somebody I know who is dear to me, is going to kill me for that picture but in my defence, it was me who spent all night gluing their fingers together, nearly twenty years ago today.

But back to the chocolate. I recall an incident from a couple of years ago when I bought a load of eggs at a local supermarket. The offer was that they were all half-priced. Great, I needed nine. It was only when I got to the checkout that the cashier said there was a maximum allowance of six per customer.

‘Where does it say that?’ I asked, dumfounded.

‘On the advertising board.’

They were right. On a 6×3 placard, hanging above me, it said, “This offer is limited to 6 per customer.” The thing was, these words of guidance were ten feet high in the air and in a smaller font than the one you’re currently reading.

Undeterred, I smiled at Mrs Unhelpful Jobsworth – Happy to Serve, and promptly separated my eggs into two piles of 5 and 4, dividing them with a next customer please, thingy.

Mrs Jobsworth looked at me, aghast. ‘What are you doing?’

‘I’m buying five.’ I then pointed behind. ‘And he’s having four.’

‘But … there’s nobody there.’

I looked at her – stern. ‘Don’t you ridicule my paranoia.’

And then she served me, unable to come back from that. I don’t know what troubled her more: the fact I’d challenged her concept of natural order or that I was wearing a t-shirt that spelled, “They don’t let me have sharp knives any more.”

Hah! Jobsworths. Mess with me and you’re messing with an expert.

What a load of rubbish.

Okay, I get it now. I know why my bins are not being emptied until late in the afternoon. The refuse collectors are all hiding and congregating in some kind of refuse collector bonding session.

And what’s more … My bin goes back outside my house and not, on its side in the middle of the road.

Pride comes before a fall.

Okay, I get it now, you girls; I see where you’re coming from. There really is nothing more surprising that lowering yourself onto the lavatory and finding some bastard has left the seat up, meaning you end up falling down the pan.

Optimising your potential.

I’m still getting to grips with this blog-site lark. It was fine on Myspace because everything was done for you but now, I apparently have to optimise my search engine potential. To do this, I need to use keywords and also have them as tags, so that they attract more visitors to my site. With this in mind … sex, masturbate, transsexuals, porn. How about that for starters? Be interesting to see if I get any more hits this week.

Nob of the week.

I reckon this has to be rugby ponce, Gavin Henson. Henson, had the incredibly stupid idea of flying on a plane, then while thousands of feet in the air, endangering everybody on board by having an ice-cube fight.

It’s not the first time he’s courted idiotic publicity and none more so than appearing on his own show, The Bachelor. In the programme, 25 women fought for the right to become Gavin’s girlfriend. Good to know relationships are made from solid foundations.

The Bachelor – The words, barrel, bottom and being scraped spring to mind

The winner, Carianne Barrow, told how they split after she realised Henson had no true feelings for her.

Jaw drops – NO!

With that sort of effect on women, it’s no wonder he has to resort to playing with ice cubes. He should have stuck with former wife, Charlotte Church. He and the Voice of an Angel, divorced a few years back and Henson’s life has gone to pot ever since. Perhaps next, he’ll turn to religion. Well, he did spend most of his married life inside a Church.

Footballers behaving badly.

Manchester City striker (and perennial nob-head), Mario Balotelli, is being quizzed by police after allegedly soaking some teenage girls at a nightclub. What a crime. Does he not realise there’s a hosepipe ban?

Quick Question.

Will somebody please tell me the point of Russell Brand?

Not such a technophobe, now!

I’ve had my Android phone for nearly a year and only just worked out how to alter the size of the font on my texts.

Yay! I’m a happy android and I can ditch those glasses I bought now.

The cold callers are giving up on me.

You may remember my tale of the cold caller who I kept on the phone for half an hour, ending when I put him on standby, listening to Queen. Well, word must have got around if the call I took the other day is anything to go by.

Ring.

I pick up, say hello, hear somebody ask if they’re speaking to Mr Britt – Blah-de-blah-de-blah! Let’s progress.

‘I am ringing about the wrong selling of a PPI,’ the foreign-sounding caller said in an almost unrecognisable accent.

‘Okay,’ I replied, preparing to string him along.

However, the cold caller took me by surprise. ‘I’m sorry to have bothered you,’ he said. ‘A nice day to you.’ And then he hung up.

??? I didn’t even get a chance to say I wasn’t interested.

Word really has got out. Either that, or they can sense the word piss-taker, just by the tone of my voice.

And the conversation of the week.

I overheard this one when I was eating out, having breakfast the other day.

Girl smiles across the table to boy. ‘Would you still love me if I was fat?’

Boy smiles. ‘Of course I would.’ Face drops, horror spreads across his cheeks. ‘You’re not going to get fat, are you?’

Classic.

Happy Easter Sunday Roast to you all.

Hope you’re all having a good day. I’m off to discover the true meaning of Easter and tuck into a chocolate egg. Mine’s a Crunchie.

Cheers.

Nick

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