Reprographics - The repro man blog

Rambles from Reprography

'the dirty mac brigade'

'Repro Man'

loving the stories fella

I like Repro Man.

Repro Man! That could be the one!

Can't get over the story of Scorcher and the Aeroplane Pilot, absolutely hilarious. Been laughing to myself all day.

"I'm feeling knackered, Lucifer. Proper Knackered."
"That's a shame, Scorcher. Anyway, i've got a lot on and..."
"I was sea fishing at the weekend. Ever been sea fishing, Lucifer?"
Here we go.
"No Scorcher. Can't say I have."
"You should. It's a good sport. My mate's got his own boat, takes us out sometimes."
"That's nice."
"Yeah. Anways, we were out on Sunday, and we were reeling 'em in. They were really biting. At about twelve I got a right bite. Nearly pulled me over the side, it did. Well I started reeling it in. My mate had to get behind me and pull too. For hours we fought it, my arms were killing my, but bit by bit we got it to the surface. A big dark shape started to come up, then it came right out of the water! You know what it was?"
"A big fish?"
"No. It were a World War II German Heinkel bomber, and there in the cockpit were the dead pilot, still wearing his helmet and goggles. It were horrible."
"Was it."
"Yeah, it were."
"What did you do with it, Scorcher?"
"We couldn't bring it in, cos it still had a full payload of bombs. We had to cut the line. It seemed like the most respectful thing to do, what with the pilot being dead, and all that."
"Yes it does. I've got to crack on, Scorcher. I'm very busy."
"Ok. I'm gonna sit here for a bit. My arms are still killing me."
"I bet they are."

scorcher is awesome

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Hahahahahaa Scorcher is definitely my favourite

I spend a bit of time in the toilets at work.
I don't lurk or anything.
I'm not looking for trade.
It's just that sometimes, the back of a bog door is a preferable sight of a monitor, or the faces of the people I work with.
Even if their is someone wanking in the next cubicle.

There's the shop floor toilets, which are horrible and smell like a zoo, and then there are the office toilets, which smell like piney freshness.
Well, which would you choose?
I'm sat there with the odours of the forest wafting under my nostrils, but I can't crap.
Why?
Because it's so quiet.
Shop floor toilets are at least a free for all on the crapping front. You can make all the noise you like, no-one cares.
But the office toilets are completely silent.
You can here people breathing.
And wanking.
There's only two cubicles, so if one's taken, you have to sit in the other and hope the other guy cracks first, and fucks off to let you shit in peace.
The other guy was going nowhere.
I shouldn't be so hung up on taking a crap, but I am. Can't do anything about it.
I'm not going to pay for councelling.
I'll just wait for the other bloke to fuck off.

I'm sitting, waiting, sphincter on stand by, when I hear this noise.
It was half way between a sigh and a moan.
What the fuck was that?
Suddenly, a scuffle broke out in the cubicle next door.
I shat myself.
Literally.
Another of those creepy moans came out, and fucking hand flops under the partition and lands on my foot.
I go mental.
I'm trying to wipe my arse and escape whilst remaining silent, but screaming in my head.
A trickle of blood came under the partition.
Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck.
By now I'm ragging my tweeds up, regardless of what state my arse is in, frantically wondering if the bog wanker had gone postal, and was now the bog murderer.
I don't want to die on the toilet.
Anywhere but the toilet.
I get the door open and blunder out.
The other door is still locked, but under it there is a bit of arse cheek poking out.
I knock nervously on the door.
I'm hoping no-one comes in. This was looking really weird.
"Hello? Are you alright mate?"
"Groan."
I knock again.
What's going on, for fuck's sake!"
I was starting to sound shrill.
The arse cheek and the hand slowly disappeared, and I could hear the sounds of somebody sluggishly getting their shit together.
The door opened.
I scuttled backwards, looking for a weapon.
It was only PenPusher from the offices.
He had blood all over his face.
"What the fuck happened, PenPusher?"
"Oh, hi Lucifer. I just had a nose bleed and passed out. It sometimes happens."
"Does it? Well if I were you, I'd get to the quacks and get it sorted, because if that happens again, I swear I'll have a heart attack."

I've stopped holding my shits in now. If the pressure can make your face burst and cause you to black out, then it's just not worth it.
I crap in the shop floor toilets.

:D:D:D:D:D:D:D call a publisher now.

Holy fuck. It is very very rare that I literally laugh out loud from reading.

Oh, and I've got the writers handbook, RuffStuff - it's a pearl isn't it?
If I make it, and get out of this shit, I'm coming to one of these mysterious 'drinks' things you Londoners seem to go to and buy you all a pint - and as a Yorkshireman, probably tut a lot at the outrageous prices...

Reprobategraphy! Good stuff - better than my title!

northerners ftw ;-)
i just google all the writers handbook stuff i need cos theres so many versions and cos i want to do kids books, i need about 4 different types of book :-(
fucked if im paying hahah

i wouldnt do a blog with all this stuff cos its pretty much guaranteed some little scrote will nick your material and beat you to it.

youve defo got enough stuff to send out here, they dont want much just brief bits and a general outline

I'm in the pub with one of the contract electricians from work.
I work in computing, but the proper blokes sometimes let me hang out with them.
Even if you could sand doors with their hands, while the only callous on my hand is on the side of my little finger on the right hand.
Where my baby soft hand brushes the desk while operating a mouse.
I'm not proud of this.
The callous makes me feel like a bitch.

The electrician, J-dogg has also brought Zen along.
Zen is six foot six, shaved head, and looks like a bad mother fucker.
He's not. He's a pussy.
Nice bloke though.
Zen looked rattled.
"Man, i had a bad do last night, J-dogg."
"Yeah? What happened?"
"Remember telling you about the bead vid?"
"Oh, yeah!" laughs J-dog.
"Bead vid?" I say.
"Bead vid." Says Zen. "I got this killer porno. These two oriental birds go at each other with a set of those love beads. It blew me away. They were going crazy, popping them things in and out of each their arses. It really did it for me, I can tell you!"
"Sounds good."
"Not many, Lucifer. It's brilliant! Well, I kind of hinted to our lass about it, and she seemed game. I showed her the bead vid, and it fizzed her up too! We were shagging like rabbits."
"Do rabbits use love beads?"
"Fuck off, Lucifer. Any road, I suggested we get some beads, and she was dead keen. I got some last week. Off the net.
"We put the bead vid on, and got down to it. I'm thumbing them up, and shes just going mental! Pulling them out had her shaking like a shitting dog!"
"Beautiful image, Zen. Very romantic."
"It was the best sex session ever! It were a total revelation."
"Well, what's the problem?" says J-dog. "If the sex were the best ever, why the stress?"
"That was last week. Saturday just gone our lass is out with her mates. I had the bead vid on, cracking one off. I got thinking."
Oh no.
"I thought, 'well, what's good for the goose is good for the gander', so to speak, so I got the beads out."
J-dogg just shakes his head.
"It were brilliant. I popped one up, then another. I couldn't touch my cock, or it would have just gone off. Honest. It were magic!
"I got a bit carried away," continued Zen. "Lost count of the beads. Before I kew it, I'd thumbed the last one in.I tried to grab it, but I kind of clenched. Sucked the fucking lot up my arse."
"Fucking hell, Zen," we both mutter.
"What did you do?"
"I panicked, J-dogg, that's what I did. I'm trying to shove my fingers up, I'm rolling around on the rug, pushing and swearing. God only knows what the dog thought I were doing."
"You were shoving love beads up your arse with the dog in the room?"
"It wasn't fucking watching, Lucifer! Well anyway, I was terrified what they would do to my guts,
get wrapped up or something. Can you imagine? 'Cause of death: Love beads.' No way!
"After a bit I calmed down, and then, I felt them move. I just gave a little push and one popped out. Honestly, I've never been so relieved. I pulled them out, and shoved them and the bead vid in the bin. Never again, lads, never again."
Zen supped his pint as we sat in silence, trying to take it in.
"I tell you, J-dogg," he continued. "I was this close to phoning you. THIS close."
"Phoning me? Why the fuck would you phone me?"
"You're the only bloke I know who is guaranteed to have a set of needle nose pliers..."

hahahahahahahaha i just spat my brew out
thats a cracker that lucifer

Great stuff!

I'm crying with laughter here. You should definitely get these published, you've an ear for conversation and an obvious talent of building a character with very few words. Brilliant stuff.

A blog can be a very good route into a publishing deal, though. Look at the London Ambulance Service guy, or Girl With a One-Track Mind.

I got married.
People say it's the happiest day of their lives, but I wouldn't go that far.
Don't get me wrong, I'm glad I did it.
It's just that half the day is laced with gut wrenching tension, and the other half is filled with drunken relief.
Separated by a really good afternoon fuck.
The second half is pretty good though.
The problem with the second half is that the different groups of friends and relatives you have worked hard to keep seperate are now thrown together, with the added lubricant of booze.
Anything could happen.
I had to invite people from work.
It's kind of part of the deal.

As it happens, people behaved pretty good.

J-dogg collapsed into a fancy potted palm.

Bobby Love's girlfriend threw herself at Devil, wrapping her legs around his wast on the dance floor, tonguing him wildly and kind of dry humping him.
She wasn't wearing knickers.
We all saw.
Bobby Love took it pretty well.

When devil managed to peel himself away, he got mortalled on whisky bought for him by Splodge.
Splodge wanted Devil to fuck his wife.
I don't know what Splodge intended to do while that was going on, but it wouldn't have been pretty.

I had to introduce my new wife to Old Soulless Boss.
Again, it's part of the deal.
"Hello, Old Soulless Boss. Thanks for coming."
My pleasure, Lucifer, my pleasure! And this must be the blushing bride, the new Mrs Lucifer!"
"Yes it is. Darling, meet Old Soulless Boss. Old Soulless Boss, this is Mrs Lucifer."
She handed me her drink.
"Would you hold this for me?"
"Erm.. Sure."
She grabbed Old Soulless Boss by his tie. He looked startled.
"Listen here, you. I've lost count of the amount of times Lucifer has come home from work feeling like a piece crap because of you. Stop being a wanker, and try treating your staff like human beings, ok?"
"Ha. Ha. Let go of Old Soulless Boss' tie, dearest. Oh look! There's your mother! Shall we? Goodbye, Old Soulless Boss, Mrs Old Soulless Boss."
I left Mrs Lucifer with her mother.
I went to the bar.
Leopard Man was at the bar.
He worked in the studio too.
I got a scotch.
"Fucking hell, Leopard Man. Did you just see that?"
"No, Lucifer. I'm watching the dance floor. You'd better take a look."
I took a look.
My wife worked at a hairdressers shop, and one of her co-workers was a stunning eighteen year old blonde.
A stunning eighteen year old blonde lesbian.
Her girlfriend was a stunning nineteen year old blonde lesbian.
They were alone on the dance floor, surrounded by a crowd of gawping blokes, power necking and grinding against each other really, really hard. I've never seen tongue work like it. They could have picked locks with those tongues.
"Fucking hell, Leopard Man."
"Fucking hell, Lucifer. This a great wedding. Thanks for inviting me."
"My pleasure, Leopard Man. It's gone ok, hasn't it?"

subscribes

so when is this going to be published in print?

***** or should it be XXX.So visceral,love it.
Repro Man is a great title,but as i type this Repro Guy did just flash through my brain.
Repro Man X Family Guy...or a northern word for bloke!?
Anyway you definitely need illustation even if it's just a mug shot of one of the charaters in given story,angry drunk wife in wedding dress...
or snap shots like photo's j-dogg in plant pot,mrs' and boss nose to nose and lesbians in the
huddle.
i've lurked to scared to type and now rambled.
Love your work,

                    hi and bye M F

great work lucifer

Repro man probly came from http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Repo_Man_(film) ?
Great stories lucifer!

Repro man probly came from http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Repo_Man_(film) ?
Great stories lucifer!

That's why it's funny

yup

:^]

Rocky used to be a boxer.
He realised that professionals ended up only being able to count as far as their fingers and thumbs, so he stopped punching and started printing.

Frasier was an older guy, a machine minder.
He was mental.
Many a time he'd arrive at work on his bike, whistling a tune and ready to work.
Wearing a dress.
He wasn't a tranny.
He was just barking mad.
He'd come to work dressed in all sorts of clobber.
Nobody said anything.
It was just Frasier, wasn't it?
His bike had a saddlebag attached to it.
He didn't keep spares, or a pump in it.
He kept sherry in there.
Machine minding is thirsty work.

Rocky and Frasier would cycle home together most days.
I'd love to know what they talked about.
An ex boxer and a bloke in a dress smelling of Harvey's Bristol Cream.

It had to happen.
They were on their way home one day, when a car full of scrotes pulls up alongside and started handing out the shit.
Frasier wasn't going to stand for that.
"Come on then, you bunch of cunts! I might be in a dress, but I could twat the lot of you!"
The car pulled ahead, and skidded to a halt.
"Here we fucking go," muttered Rocky, as the lads scrambled out of the car.
"You take the lad in the hat, Frasier.... Frasier?"
Rocky realised he was alone.
He looked back the way they had come, and saw Frasier in the distance, doing a decent impression of Eddie Merckx.
In a frock.
"Bastard," muttered Rocky, and rolled his sleeves up...

The lads had fucked off to lick their wounds, and Rocky continued his journey, knuckles throbbing.
He suddenly realised he was not alone.
Frasier glided up alongside him, whistling happily as if nothing had happened.
"Where the fucking Hell did you go?!?" snarled Rocky.
"I was just drawing their fire, son. Just drawing their fire..."