Does Balki really exist?

he asked me out once, i turned him down.

I asked him out once but he turned me down. You can draw your own collisions.

There's a place for that:

http://www.londonfgss.com/thread27103.html

Weak at the knees like a 20 hole radial wheel

I'm glad the real Wiganwill's back.

His encyclopedic selection of images of horrific foodstuffs are legendary. And he has some rather interesting views on Ribena. Besides, his "Look" is lovely.

^ Balki alias...

^ Balki alias...

Wrong call. Balki doesn't find the aforementioned foodstuffs in any way 'horrific'. This is probably a misguided Balki would-be disciple who still has a lot to learn. ;)

Aliasi?

He's a fuckwit.

Hilariously good Larry.

Aliasi?

Probably an alias of an alias.

Aldi? Budgeteer.
Blaki? Racist.
Laksa Tasty.

All these and more.

Of all the bike shops in all the world he had to to walk in to mine. I knew the moment I saw him that I was going to fall and fall heavily. He had the kind of eyes that could strip threads at fifty paces, a smile that made Nitromers seem like medium dry sherry. When we shook hands he held on for a just a second longer than he should, like a hipster hesitating at a red light. He was trouble and trouble was what I wanted and, like a student buying a UniPak, I was going to get more trouble than I knew what to do with.
"I'm Balki" he said. His voice was deep like a Velocity rim, rich like CliveO. B-A-L-K-I, five little letters that spelled 531. "I work sort of in computers, for a bank, it's boring" he said; the poetry made my knees as weak as a 20 hole radial front wheel. He laughed, maybe he'd been sniffing Muck-Off again - we all have our little guilty secrets and Balki was no different. But I didn't care; he could sniff Muck-Off till the cows came home, God dammit he could sniff the cows till I came home and I knew I'd still feel the same. Like a Scoble and a BJ we were meant to be. Only with fewer photographs.
Was he real? Is God real? Does Shop 14 really exist or is it just a beautiful dream dreamed in the fevered mind of skid-addled fakenger? Oh, he was real alright, Balki was real. Of all the secure psychiatric wards in all the world, he had to walk in to mine.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kcTfgIIG84Q

I'm amazed you haven't met him Clive, Balki is one of my favorite forumengers.

It's not so much of a question of Clive not meeting Balki, but more of Balki avoiding Clive.

Is this a continuation of this thread?

Is this a continuation of this thread?

If you consider that thread and this thread combined then it makes me think that Balki is an AI and cliveo is trying to prosecute a Turing test.

If Balki fails the test, by which one might also say that he succeeds, I think that cliveo will then hunt down Balki in order to enforce the Turing Law

Thanks for clearing that up.

What makes you think, that Balki is a man?

Balki being a man has never made me think.

Nice use of a comma though.

The bike was dead. As dead as a newbie asking for advice on what tyres are best for skidding. It had died the way my dreams of a wife, two kids and a white picket fence had died the day Balki walked in.
I watched the cops draw a chalk outline round the hybrid and glanced at Balki. He was smiling that mysterious smile and as the street lights caught his chiseled cheekbones, I thought "Nice build".
I knew Balki had killed that bike and Balki knew I knew. Like two nodders on a busy roundabout we were locked in a square dance of damnation. "Fancy a pint?" he asked. "Yeh" I said, looking once more at the cops. I could tell them, turn him in and let them break him like a hoodie breaks a cheap d-lock. I could put all this behind me, forget about it just like you forget about your first OTP from Evans. But I couldn't. Balki had me in a grip tighter than Park Tools workstand.
We found a dive just off the hipster highway and Balki ordered two pink gins and a packet of pork scratchings. Just when you thought you had him figured out he'd surprise you. He made the service in BLB look predictable, he made the Bloomsbury bike lane look like the yellow brick road, he made every Bob Jackson look the same. Which they are.
"Why d'you do it Balki?" I asked.
"I fucken hate hybrids mate. They're weird"
"You killed that unicycle in Clapton too didn't you?"
"Unicycle's are shit".
He had a point.
"How many more Balki?"
"I topped a tandem in Tooting"
"Why?"
"Alliteration FTW"
He was mad, mad as using toe clips and straps in a world full of Time ATACS, mad as trusting a Halford's mechanic, mad as a baby blue fixie.
"It's time to go". As we unlocked what was left of our bikes and made notes of where we'd gone wrong so we could let GA2G know in the morning that question came back to me: Is Balki real? It didn't matter: I'd seen grown men checking each other's saddles and eating Wasabi Peas; I'd seen Xmas tree lights that were brighter than Knogs; I'd lived too long in this fixed up city to care any more. If Balki wasn't real, like a Unicorn or a cheap Rapha hat isn't real, then that's just the way the it was. He was my Current Project.

whats alliteration?

^ Balki alias...

How dare you! I'm me, not him (or her).

whats alliteration?

It's the attempt to make you literate.

Very Chandler-esque, Will.

Will. A novel is required:

"The Reality of Being Balki"

As opposed to my autobiography:

"The reality of being bulky."

i hope so .theres a lot of very funny/sarcastic/anarchic members on here and hes certainly one of them.long live the mayhem they contribute,the bunch of lunatics