Glasgow - the whole story

Discussion in 'Diamond Lil's' started by Junglie, Jul 6, 2007.

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  1. Ever have "one of those days?" Sure, all of us go through the occasional rough patch, but I swear there are times when I think Allah must really have it in for me. I mean, I know the "Big Guy" is supposed to have a sense of humour, but do I always have to be the punch line?

    Take for example this last week. A few mates and I had been planning a big martyrdom weekend for quite a while; it's something we first began discussing a few years ago in medical school back in Amman. We were sitting around the dorm eating pizza, cramming for a big anatomy final, when Ali said "you know, after graduation, we should get together for something really big." We talked about a fishing trip to Canada or something, but most of the guys thought that sounded pretty boring. Abdul suggested a golf weekend in Cancun, but the all-inclusive there can get pretty pricey in-season. Hassan (who's really into motorcycles) suggested renting Harleys and going to Sturgis for the Biker Rally, but we heard that crowd can get pretty rowdy.

    Anyhoo, Achmed finally says, "how about packing cars with explosives and killing hundreds of random infidels in a coordinated series of gigantic fireballs?" And we're like, fuckin' A! Not only would it be an awesome bonding experience (with plenty of Paradise poontang, LOL), we would be doing a valuable community service. Okay, so we high-fived and made a solemn promise that we'd target two years after graduation for the big weekend prank blowout.

    I know how it usually goes with these kinds of fraternity things; what with starting up a medical practice, honour killing obligations, and starting a family, it's easy to lose touch with the old school buddies. But this thing -- our thing -- was serious, you know? Thanks to email we were able to keep in touch and keep the plan going. As luck would have it, we all won Achmedinijad scholarships to do our residencies in England for the National Health Service. We got our families together most every weekend for backyard cookouts and self-flagellation and TV football matches. Afterwards me and the other guys would slip out to the garage for cigars, and to pack shrapnel.

    So okay, the big weekend arrives, and the guys come over to my place bright and early, everybody's jazzed about rolling up some kufr carnage. All the propane tanks and propellant and nail canisters are ready to go. I look at Ali and say, "okay mate, back up your car to the garage and I'll start loading it up." He gets this dumbstruck look on his face and says, "my car? I thought Hassan was going to do the martyrdom." And then Hassan does a massive spit-take with his tea, and he's like, "whoa dude, I rigged the cell phones, I didn't agree to blow up. I thought Mohammed was going to do the blowing up." Then Mohammed's like, "don't look at me, pal, I thought I was just providing the spiritual guidance. Plus my car's in the shop for transmission work." From there it just descended into this big shouting match. Holy frickin' prophet, two years of planning this prank and now everybody wants to pussy out on the actual martyrdom.

    Long story short, we decided to draw straws. And guess who wins? Yep, yours truly, good old sucker Khalid, the same guy with a pile of charge card receipts for petrol and propane and hardware. The same guy who ended up having to host two thirds of the martyrdom planning parties at HIS house, because his good old college "pals" always have some convenient excuse about "kitchen remodeling" or "MI6 surveillance," and never lift a finger to help clean up the empty bottles or paper plates or the C5 mess. Well, you know what they say: no good deed goes unpunished. Then the other short straw get pulled by Bilal, and I'm like, oh, great. Now I'll be banging some celestial virgin with that wanker looking over my shoulder.

    So, I'm like, "okay, who's donating the cars?" And these dicks just look around at each other, and ANOTHER big argument breaks out, because "I still have 28 payments left," or "it's due for a tyre rotation," or some other lame excuse. So we draw straws again to pick the explosion cars, and guess who wins? Yup, my Benz, the same fucking car I just paid £129.95 to have detailed. So I go to the house and tell my wife Jumanah about the whole deal, and here it comes -- The Look. complete with the whole exasperated eye roll and head shake. I swear, if her dad wasn't my uncle, I'd be tempted to smack that irritating sneer right off her face. So she's like, "fine, go have your fun with your lazy jihad buddies and your 72 virgins. Just leave me the keys to the Jeep so I can get groceries."

    After that, I guess I was pretty much ready to get it over with. I called up the office and had them cancel the rest of my patient appointments for the day and drove the Benz to London, which incidentally cost me another £40 for gas and tolls. When I got to Picadilly and parked in front of the nightclub and called Achmed on my cell to let 'er rip. Nothing. I sat there waiting 3 minutes waiting for the cell phone detonator to go off, nothing. I saw a cop walking toward the Benz, so I hopped out and started booking it and almost got run over by a double decker. I got on the Tube, thinking I was safe, but then all the stupid racist kufrs started giving me the stinkeye because apparently they're freaked by panting Arabs smelling of gasoline. I got out in Ealing and went to the mosque where the other guys were supposed to be, and they're all standing around like a bunch of sheepish idiots. So I'm like, "WTF? What happened with the detonation?"

    Get this: Mohammed, whose only job it was to call in a simple fucking detonation code, switched his cell carrier to get the new iPhone and forgot to transfer his goddamn detonation contact list. So I'm like, "how about Bilal? Did he explode? Please tell me exploded." The dopey expressions around the room told me otherwise. Faaaack. Now there's NO dead infidels, NO horny virgins, and I'm out one leased Mercedes with a £12,000 balloon payment.

    So I go, "here's the deal guys. I just put my ass on the martyrdom line, and it was Allah's will that it didn't happen. So why don't we just call it good, and try again in another two years." Crissakes, you would have thought I just took a dump in their falafel. They started talking about "Ummah Pride," and "giving it all for ol' Central Jordan U.."

    So I said fine, let's draw straws again. Because, hey, what are the odds of me pulling martyrdom duty twice in a row? Guess I should have been a stat major, because there I was holding the short stick again. When Bilal pulled the other short stick, I just went ahead and volunteered my Jeep because I figured the way this day was going it was gonna get blown up one way or the other.

    When Bilal and I got back to my house Jumanah had just gotten back from Tesco and was unloading groceries. "I thought you were supposed to be in Paradise by now," she said, in that stupid irritating voice. "Change of plans," I said. "We need to head up to Glasgow to blow up the airport."

    Here it came again. The Look.

    "Um, and we need to use the Jeep."

    The Look X 2.

    "And our faces are all over the TV, so we need you to drive us."

    I won't even bother trying to describe her face at that point. We loaded up the rest of the explosive canisters in the back of the Jeep and headed north on the M1 in the middle of the out-of-town holiday rush traffic. Jumanah pretty much seethed the entire way, complaining about the traffic and the gasoline fumes. Needless to say when we finally got to Glasgow and dropped her off at a roadside cafe, I was pretty much geared up for the sweet release of death.

    Okay, so Bilal and I get psyched up, check all the equipment to make sure it's ready for a big boom, point the Jeep at the terminal, and mash the throttle. I'm shouting "Allahu Akbar," and Bilal's shouting "Allahu Akbar" and "Go Martyrs" just like the old pep squad days at CJU. And I'm thinking, "oil up them virgins Allah, 'cause Dr. K's luck is about to change." BAAAAM! Right into the glass.

    I was probably out for a two, three seconds. Bilal and I peeled our broken noses out of the airbags, which meant we were still alive, which meant the goddamn canisters didn't explode, again. Maybe we went through into the terminal and killed some infidels, I thought, then I saw we hadn't made it in more than a couple inches into the terminal. I mean, WTF? The Jeep salesman kept going on about how the Jeep was this awesome unstoppable American SUV that crusader cowboys use to bulldoze their way through mountain forests, with an easy payment plan, and the damn thing can't make it through a bloody plate glass window. I restart the engine and now the piece of shit just sits there spinning the tyres. "All wheel traction," my arse.

    Okay, plan B. Bilal and I start pushing backup detonation buttons and cell codes. A couple of pops, but they were all duds. Then I see the cops coming at me.

    As Allah is my witness, I really can't explain what happened next; maybe it was stress, or confusion, or frustration. Whatever the reason, I decided it was a reasonable idea at that point to pour a can of petrol over my head and hit the Bic.

    Here's a handy health tip from Doctor K: if you ever get a wild urge to start yourself on fire, sit down and relax until it goes away. Because (A) it's not a particularly useful method for killing infidels, and (B) it. hurts. like. a. motherfucker. So much that I almost enjoyed the distraction those high-pressure water canons and getting my lights punched out by that crazy mumble-mouthed Scottish baggage handler.

    By the way, did I mention I also started the Jeep on fire? Only 37 more payments of £438 to go.

    After that, I really didn't mind getting bludgeoned by those angry bagpipers. The sound was horrible, but at least they got the rest of the flames out. I was almost relieved when the cops were cuffing me face down on the pavement, because by that point I was pretty much reconsidering this whole college martyrdom pledge prank thing and I figured the worst was over.

    No such luck. Here's another handy health tip from Doctor K: if your skin is half melted and bubbly hot, avoid laying down on any surfaces that aren't Teflon coated. And please note: the Glasgow sidewalks aren't.

    After a half hour with a spatula and ten cans of Pam, the cops finally got 95% or so of me peeled off the sidewalk. I looked down at my legs and realized that I'll be saving a lot of money on clothes from now on, because I'm sporting a permanent pair of melted-on black polyester trousers.

    And then the kicker: I looked down at my package and noticed "Little Khalid" was AWOL. As they were loading me into the police wagon I glanced back over my shoulder and saw what was left of him charbroiling on the sidewalk. Then one of the bomb sniffing dogs gobbled him down like a sausage. A fat lot of good those 72 virgin are going to me now.

    Final box score: I'm out one Mercedes, one Jeep, £2000 in miscellaneous bomb materials, three layers of skin, and one very low-mileage penis. Infidels killed: nil. So the next time you want to bitch to me about how bad your day is going, don't expect a lot of sympathy.

    Well, gotta go. The interrogators are coming, and afterwards I've got an appointment to have my arse skin grafted on to my face. But I will leave you with one more handy tip from Doctor K: no matter how many virgins they promise, don't ever join a fraternity.
  2. silverfox

    silverfox War Hero Moderator Book Reviewer

    Thank you Slim......
  3. 'Twas doon by the inch o' Abbots
    Oor Johnny walked one day
    When he saw a sicht that troubled him
    Far more that he could say
    A fanatic muslim bastard
    Wiz doin what he'd planned
    And intae Glesca's departure hall
    A Cherokee he'd rammed.

    A big Glaswegian polis
    Came forward tae assist
    He thocht "a wumman driver"
    Or at least someone half-pissed
    But to his shock nae drunken Jock
    Emerged to grasp his hand
    But a flamin Arab loony
    Frae Al Qaeda's band

    The mad Islamist nut-case
    Had set hissel' on fire
    And swung oot at the polis
    GBH his clear desire
    Now that's no richt wur Johnny cried
    And sallied tae the fray
    A left hook and a heid butt
    Required tae save the day.

    Now listen up Bin Laden
    Yir sort's nae wanted here
    For imported English radicals
    Us Scoatsman huv nae fear
    Oor hame grown Glesca Asians
    Will have nae bluidy truck
    So tak yer worldwide jihad
    An get yersel tae ????????
  4. And once again the source:

    Seems like plaguarism is rife today. :pukel:
  5. Plagiarism
    From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
    Jump to: navigation, search
    For other uses, see Plagiarism (disambiguation).
    Plagiarism (from Latin plagiare "to kidnap") is the practice of claiming, or implying, original authorship or incorporating material from someone else's written or creative work, in whole or in part, into one's own without adequate acknowledgement. Unlike cases of forgery, in which the authenticity of the writing, document, or some other kind of object, itself is in question, plagiarism is concerned with the issue of false attribution. Plagiarism can also occur unconsciously; in some cultures certain forms of plagiarism are accepted because the concept can be interpreted differently.

    Within academia, plagiarism by students, professors, or researchers is considered academic dishonesty or academic fraud and offenders are subject to academic censure. In journalism, plagiarism is considered a breach of journalistic ethics, and reporters caught plagiarizing typically face disciplinary measures ranging from suspension to termination. Some individuals caught plagiarizing in academic or journalistic contexts claim that they plagiarized unintentionally, by failing to include quotations or give the appropriate citation. While plagiarism in scholarship and journalism has a centuries-old history, the development of the Internet, where articles appear as electronic text, has made the physical act of copying the work of others much easier.

    Plagiarism is different from copyright infringement. While both terms may apply to a particular act, they emphasize different aspects of the transgression. Copyright infringement is a violation of the rights of the copyright holder, when material is used without the copyright holder's consent. On the other hand, plagiarism is concerned with the unearned increment to the plagiarizing author's reputation.
    Plagiarism is presenting someone else's words or ideas as your own. The following are all examples of plagiarism:
    Quoting or paraphrasing material without citing the source of that material. Sources can include Web sites, magazines, newspapers, textbooks, journals, TV and radio programs, movies and videos, photographs and drawings, charts and graphs; any information or ideas that are not your own.
    Quoting a source without using quotation marks -- even if you do cite it.
    Buying a paper online or downloading a paper from a free site.
    Copying or using work done by another student.
    Citing sources you didn't use.
    Turning in the same paper for more than one class without the permission of both teachers.


    So if we find an interesting piece on tinternet then by all means share it, but lets give the credit to those resposible.
  7. I must bow to your wide experience of over 3000 posts on this site alone , no doubt you frequent many others . For any significant writing sure this must be treated correctly , what I did was simply use a post just received from a friend and I didn't even consider the propriety of the of the origin . Surely on such a relaxed site we can occasionally make a slip up so FFS relax and either lay off the red wine or have some more get pissed and piss off . For someone who comes up with little of his own mind ten out of ten for hide as in thick skin and if you're looking for bites go elsewhere . If offended , piss off again

    :pukel: :pukel: :pukel:
  8. It is far too widespread! I wrote an information sheet several years ago on Klinefelter syndrome. Despite being under copyright, no less than one nurse (publishing in the Nursing Times) and one non-medical periodical tried to pass off my work as their own! :pissedoff: Unfortunately for the plagiarists I had no difficulty proving my authorship - my drafts had been checked and modified (for which I gave credit) by 2 Fellows of the Royal Society. I also had a student once from Queen Mary's College, London who demanded that I send her a copy of the said document in Word format so she could, in her own words (!!!!!) 'take your name off the top of it because I have to hand in my essay on Klinefelter's syndrome and have only just remembered'. This was on a Thursday. Her essay was due in on the Monday! I just couldn't believe it. Any Birkbeck student who did that would be expelled! She tried pressurising me into letting her present my work as her own! Unbelievable! o_O It has made my VERY sceptical about the value of modern Degrees, especially from QMC!

    PS: I did report her to QMC who claimed that there must have been a misunderstanding. Really?
  9. Yes indeed , plagiarism is wide spread and should be treated accordingly particularly in academic areas or professional fields . My response was to what I consider an inappropriate comment on a hardly professional presentation made on a light-hearted site and not the academic arena . I understand there are sites selling ' papers ' to students unable or unwilling to do the foot-work .
  10. If the cap fits, wear both of the bastds.
  11. I'm convinced there's a "y" omitted from your name now be a good boy and piss off
  12. That is true, though it is usually pretty obvious that it isn't a student's own work because their writing style (and grammar) give it away! The material available online is also general. Students who use these "services" in order to cheat typically get Second Class Degrees or below. To get a First Class Degree you need to demonstrate originality and be able to deploy similar arguments both on paper and in class discussions. The latter are a good way also of establishing who actually understands the subject (as prerequisite of being able to write authoritatively about it) and who does not, and is therefore probably cheating (or very shy/terrified of the lecturer o_O ).
  13. I wasn't looking for a bite, however if I had been you would still have been on the end of my hook.
    What I was saying was by all means share your information from wherever you have obtained it, but it is nice to give the credit to the person who deserves it, in this case not yourself. We had a guy called "he Caretaker" on site some time ago who constantly put stuff on claiming it to be his own work.
    Now if you're too thick to realise that most stuff nicked from the Internet can be traced to it's origin fairly swiftly, you're a little naive.
  14. No, I think your first comment was more appropriate, Slim! :biggrin: :laughing4:
  15. I suspect it is thee that misses the point old fruit and once again believing I was on a site used by adults I did not consider what I presented as an academic master piece therefore presented it in that vein . I repeat without your lengthy experience of the web a little mistake can surely be tolerated although I still hardly believe there will be any concern over what I did apart from petty nit pickers like yourself . I bet your friends never suffer with constipation little man . Oh , and piss off yet again.
  16. FFS get off my hook you pathetic creature
  17. Oooooooo Nooooooooooooooo!

    PS: What's an adult Hobbit? :confused: :biggrin: I've NEVER been one of those! o_O
  18. Your hook . you probably didn't have one in the mob . Red wine drinker , bet it's rot-gut . Good stuff would be like champagne etc . Lay off it a bit still with no brain cant do any harm

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