A tribute to the heroic failures of Grand Prix racing
https://ftp.gprejects.com/forum/
Freeze-O-Kimi wrote:DOSBoot wrote:2. Perez: Beaten by both Torro Rossos, and both Force Indias.
That's not fair. Perez got a puncture in an accident with Rosberg and lost at least a 9th or 10th.
davekartclub wrote:Ferrari - "strategy A (please)" coded radio message from Rob Smedley to Felippe Massa. Hardly "Enigma" !
dinizintheoven wrote:I have a very odd nomination for Reject Of The Race: my toilet.
OK, I admit it, two days of almost solid drinking at my local beer festival followed by an all-day gig in Leeds left me rather incapacitated and in no fit state to get up at ridiculous o'clock and watch the race live, so I stayed in bed, got up near lunchtime and sat down to watch the race. I needed to do what Kimi Räikkönen is famous for doing first, and it was then that the vicious and vindictive cludgie saw fit to strike me down. The flush doesn't work brilliantly, and needs a hard shove to get it to work properly. It seems my forceful flush was one too many as the lever snapped in my hand, and no sooner had I seen it crash onto the lid than I felt something odd... then looked at my left hand and saw a sight that only a surgeon should ever see.
DO NOT LOOK AT THIS LINK if you are in any way scared by the sight of blood and gore. You have been warned. I will not be responsible for the fallout.
Tell me, have you ever seen the internal bits and pieces that lie beneath your own skin? I have. The ragged metal edge of the lever had gone through my hand like an angle grinder. So, instead of spending the next six hours watching the qualifying and race, I dragged myself to A&E, with my right ankle still not entirely recovered from last weekend's mishap in the wild woods of Cornwall, and to my utter dismay, the BBC News Channel was on the screen that also showed how long the wait would be for a practice nurse (although it would jump from 73 minutes to 22 and then 103, 17, 93... it was useless). I have a strange hearing problem which means I can never usually pick out one conversation amongst many others, but this usually happens in the pub where everyone is talking over each other; the crowds more than occasionally thinned to the point that the BBC were broadcasting the day's stories loud and clear over the other patients who had decided to sit in near-silence. I was willing more people to start talking, even the Poles sitting next to me, it didn't matter if I couldn't understand a word they were saying, at least it'd mask the dreaded "...and now to the day's sports news! Here's Rob Bonnet with a spoiler of the Grand Prix result!"
You really have no idea how hard I had to concentrate, how hard I had to ram my fingers in my ears, and how hard I had to pick out other people's conversations, all the time while wondering if I'd be called to have the inch-long gash in my hand sewn back together. In the end, I was in there for two and a half hours, mostly waiting in front of that infernal screen that was ready and poised to blab the result at me when there was no way I could switch it off. The other patients must have thought I was mad with my fingers hard in my ears. Even so I managed to catch "Ferrari's Fernando Alonso... mumble mumble mumble... Sebastian Vettel... mumble mumble mumble mumble mumble..." before finally looking up to see a rugby team on the screen.
I sort-of-assumed that Alonso had won. In a way the result made me not annoyed as it should - at least Fingerboy didn't have this race all his own way, no matter what foil-hatted conspiracy theories have come up since then. It meant all that time in front of a rolling news service hadn't ruined the result.
But if I hadn't had to flush the khazi all this hassle could have been avoided - or, at least, postponed to a time where I'd already seen the race and could have watched the News Channel for some kind of entertainment rather than desperately trying to block out its presence.
Up in the morning I get, searching for a replacement handle, that had better not make a repeat performance.
dinizintheoven wrote:I have a very odd nomination for Reject Of The Race: my toilet.
dinizintheoven wrote:I have a very odd nomination for Reject Of The Race: my toilet.
dinizintheoven wrote:I have a very odd nomination for Reject Of The Race: my toilet.
OK, I admit it, two days of almost solid drinking at my local beer festival followed by an all-day gig in Leeds left me rather incapacitated and in no fit state to get up at ridiculous o'clock and watch the race live, so I stayed in bed, got up near lunchtime and sat down to watch the race. I needed to do what Kimi Räikkönen is famous for doing first, and it was then that the vicious and vindictive cludgie saw fit to strike me down. The flush doesn't work brilliantly, and needs a hard shove to get it to work properly. It seems my forceful flush was one too many as the lever snapped in my hand, and no sooner had I seen it crash onto the lid than I felt something odd... then looked at my left hand and saw a sight that only a surgeon should ever see.
DO NOT LOOK AT THIS LINK if you are in any way scared by the sight of blood and gore. You have been warned. I will not be responsible for the fallout.
Tell me, have you ever seen the internal bits and pieces that lie beneath your own skin? I have. The ragged metal edge of the lever had gone through my hand like an angle grinder. So, instead of spending the next six hours watching the qualifying and race, I dragged myself to A&E, with my right ankle still not entirely recovered from last weekend's mishap in the wild woods of Cornwall, and to my utter dismay, the BBC News Channel was on the screen that also showed how long the wait would be for a practice nurse (although it would jump from 73 minutes to 22 and then 103, 17, 93... it was useless). I have a strange hearing problem which means I can never usually pick out one conversation amongst many others, but this usually happens in the pub where everyone is talking over each other; the crowds more than occasionally thinned to the point that the BBC were broadcasting the day's stories loud and clear over the other patients who had decided to sit in near-silence. I was willing more people to start talking, even the Poles sitting next to me, it didn't matter if I couldn't understand a word they were saying, at least it'd mask the dreaded "...and now to the day's sports news! Here's Rob Bonnet with a spoiler of the Grand Prix result!"
You really have no idea how hard I had to concentrate, how hard I had to ram my fingers in my ears, and how hard I had to pick out other people's conversations, all the time while wondering if I'd be called to have the inch-long gash in my hand sewn back together. In the end, I was in there for two and a half hours, mostly waiting in front of that infernal screen that was ready and poised to blab the result at me when there was no way I could switch it off. The other patients must have thought I was mad with my fingers hard in my ears. Even so I managed to catch "Ferrari's Fernando Alonso... mumble mumble mumble... Sebastian Vettel... mumble mumble mumble mumble mumble..." before finally looking up to see a rugby team on the screen.
I sort-of-assumed that Alonso had won. In a way the result made me not annoyed as it should - at least Fingerboy didn't have this race all his own way, no matter what foil-hatted conspiracy theories have come up since then. It meant all that time in front of a rolling news service hadn't ruined the result.
But if I hadn't had to flush the khazi all this hassle could have been avoided - or, at least, postponed to a time where I'd already seen the race and could have watched the News Channel for some kind of entertainment rather than desperately trying to block out its presence.
Up in the morning I get, searching for a replacement handle, that had better not make a repeat performance.
kevinbotz wrote:Oh god. The dry heaves. Oh, the dry heaves.
Damn my curiosity.
Cynon wrote:The picture didn't disgust me, but maybe that's because I've had that happen to me before. Regardless... yeah. I can agree with this nomination, and if anyone else doesn't... then you're a liberal fascist communist that needs to get out of 'merica. Or something like that.
Barbazza wrote:dr-baker wrote:What happened to this? Certainly there was absolutely nothing during the podium ceremony to indicate that they were doing anything different at all to commemorate Maria, and either TV missed totally the one minute silence, or it didn't happen. This is what disappointed me most today.
Sky F1 showed a clip of the one minute silence which happened a long time before the race start (they showed it at about 1 hour before the race start I think, so it must have happened some time before that)
No idea about the podium. I can't bear Eddie Jordan so I fast forwarded through the whole thing!
dr-baker wrote:But the toilet story, well, sounds like that you really did have a shite weekend, dinizintheoven...
East Londoner wrote:dr-baker wrote:But the toilet story, well, sounds like that you really did have a shite weekend, dinizintheoven...
Good word, Dr Baker using tawdry language on the F1 Rejects forum? The end of the world really is nigh.
go_Rubens wrote:2. The FIA Stewards. The decision with Ricciardo was absurd. I believe Rosberg's penalty was for his contact with Pérez, not the unsafe release (correct me if I'm wrong), but if so, that is stupid, as Pérez didn't leave Rosberg room to drive. But if the unsafe release was not penalized, that's one nail on the coffin. I liked Ricciardo's quote from a Will Buxton interview, "I am pissed off."
dinizintheoven wrote:I have a very odd nomination for Reject Of The Race: my toilet.
OK, I admit it, two days of almost solid drinking at my local beer festival followed by an all-day gig in Leeds left me rather incapacitated and in no fit state to get up at ridiculous o'clock and watch the race live, so I stayed in bed, got up near lunchtime and sat down to watch the race. I needed to do what Kimi Räikkönen is famous for doing first, and it was then that the vicious and vindictive cludgie saw fit to strike me down. The flush doesn't work brilliantly, and needs a hard shove to get it to work properly. It seems my forceful flush was one too many as the lever snapped in my hand, and no sooner had I seen it crash onto the lid than I felt something odd... then looked at my left hand and saw a sight that only a surgeon should ever see.
DO NOT LOOK AT THIS LINK if you are in any way scared by the sight of blood and gore. You have been warned. I will not be responsible for the fallout.
Tell me, have you ever seen the internal bits and pieces that lie beneath your own skin? I have. The ragged metal edge of the lever had gone through my hand like an angle grinder. So, instead of spending the next six hours watching the qualifying and race, I dragged myself to A&E, with my right ankle still not entirely recovered from last weekend's mishap in the wild woods of Cornwall, and to my utter dismay, the BBC News Channel was on the screen that also showed how long the wait would be for a practice nurse (although it would jump from 73 minutes to 22 and then 103, 17, 93... it was useless). I have a strange hearing problem which means I can never usually pick out one conversation amongst many others, but this usually happens in the pub where everyone is talking over each other; the crowds more than occasionally thinned to the point that the BBC were broadcasting the day's stories loud and clear over the other patients who had decided to sit in near-silence. I was willing more people to start talking, even the Poles sitting next to me, it didn't matter if I couldn't understand a word they were saying, at least it'd mask the dreaded "...and now to the day's sports news! Here's Rob Bonnet with a spoiler of the Grand Prix result!"
You really have no idea how hard I had to concentrate, how hard I had to ram my fingers in my ears, and how hard I had to pick out other people's conversations, all the time while wondering if I'd be called to have the inch-long gash in my hand sewn back together. In the end, I was in there for two and a half hours, mostly waiting in front of that infernal screen that was ready and poised to blab the result at me when there was no way I could switch it off. The other patients must have thought I was mad with my fingers hard in my ears. Even so I managed to catch "Ferrari's Fernando Alonso... mumble mumble mumble... Sebastian Vettel... mumble mumble mumble mumble mumble..." before finally looking up to see a rugby team on the screen.
I sort-of-assumed that Alonso had won. In a way the result made me not annoyed as it should - at least Fingerboy didn't have this race all his own way, no matter what foil-hatted conspiracy theories have come up since then. It meant all that time in front of a rolling news service hadn't ruined the result.
But if I hadn't had to flush the khazi all this hassle could have been avoided - or, at least, postponed to a time where I'd already seen the race and could have watched the News Channel for some kind of entertainment rather than desperately trying to block out its presence.
Up in the morning I get, searching for a replacement handle, that had better not make a repeat performance.
dinizintheoven wrote:And it's a one-off chance. The rejectful bog handle has now been replaced with one that does what it's supposed to do without needing excessive force, and despite probably having 25 years of life in it, no way will I be in this same house by that time, and whoever moves in next will take one look at the bathroom and completely gut it.
It's now or never!
CoopsII wrote:This thread has developed into proof positive that the forum is going down the pan
dr-baker wrote:CoopsII wrote:This thread has developed into proof positive that the forum is going down the pan
Now I'm feeling flushed with embarrassement, that was so crap!
