I had DINNER with GUNTER SCHLIERKAMP!!!

[m8]

Brothers,

I rushed to my computer to write this...I still can't believe it...I had dinner this evening with none other than mass-monster GUNTER SCHLIERKAMP!!!

I was working out in a gym in the London area, with my chauffeur/training partner/security assistant, Nobby, when, lo and behold, there was Gunter, doing behind the neck presses with 355!! Nobby and I lumbered over and asked to work in with him. "Ja, dis is possible" he said, in a friendly, gutteral German accent. Nobby immediately did his warm-ups- with the 355 Gunter had just barely managed- and Gunter immediately took a liking to us. A young scrawny lad approached us, and started introducing himself to Gunter. "Oi...FOOK OFF!!" Nobby snarled, and he put one of his shovel-sized gh - growth hormone (somatropin) - -mutated hands over the kid's face and tossed him backwards onto the floor! Gunter stood over him, laughing. "Achtung, flabby little UNTERMENSCHEN, go away before I CU-RRUSH you!" he bellowed, in a terrifyingly commanding voice, worthy of an SS gruppenfuher, and the boy scurried off, whimpering! The three of us roared with laughter as he ran out the gym, snivelling!

The training over, we decided to head over to a Chinese restaurant for a ridiculously large post-workout meal. It was an upscale place, and quite busy.
Entering the restaurant, Gunter, wearing a tan coloured silk shirt, black pants, and jackboots, looked closely at his watch, then folded his arms and scanned the restaurant. "Gentlemen, ve must secure zee table by 21:00 hours!" he commanded.
"Say Gunter, let's 'blitzkrieg' that table full of what looks like slavic people over there...and claim it for ourselves!" I suggested.
"Ja, dis is possible!" Gunter said, and the three of us headed over to a table of 6 and shoved them all off their chairs, snarling at each of them. "Look out chump! Incoming ME-109!" I chuckled as I pulled a chair out from underneath one of them. As they walked off, complaining, and threatening to call the police, I ripped my shirt off and hit a most-muscular at them...that scared them off!

The manager came over, cleared his throat, and just before he could ask us to leave, Nobby seized him by the tie and pulled him close so he was nose to nose with him. "Roight, wot we want is some FOOKIN grub, and fookin QUICK, get it?" Nobby snarled, glaring into the man's face with his small, cold black eyes, which make those of a man eating shark look warm and friendly. Terrified, the little Chinaman ran away, yelping 'okay, wight away...wight away.." and the three of us leaned back in our chairs, stretched ourselves out, and basked in the glow of the intimidation we instilled in everyone else at the restaurant!

After eating more food in one sitting than the restaurant usually cooks in a night, we leaned back, and enjo a glass of some very potent Chinese hard liquour. Gunter got a tad ed, and pointed to the next table "Ja...ve could use some LEBENSRAUM..dis table is not enough room!" he slurred. "Why yes, indeed... those half-breeds over there have no right to it, do they?" I quipped.
"Time for BLITZKREIG!!!" Gunter bellowed, then stood up, staggered over to the next table, flipped it over, and started screaming like a madman "GO ON! GET OUT OF HERE! MAKE ROOM FOR ZEE SUPERMEN!! SCHNELL!!!" at the 3 shocked old ladies at the table. They fled the restaurant, and a few moments later we could see out the window two police cars pulling up- for us, no doubt!

Gunter glared at them, and I decided it was time for Nobby and I to make our usual escape- and leave Gunter to take responsibily for the trouble we'd caused in the restaurant!

I leaned over to Gunter, grinning, and set the stage for my and Nobby's escape."Gunter, old chap, looks like it's time for the 'Schleifflen Plan'!" I said.
"Ja, like in de 1914, vee overvelm dem vit our strategic attack" Gunter slurred.
"Yes, EXACTLY. All right then. Let's say the police officers out there are France- and that kitchen door leading out the back is Belgium- YOU perform the frontal assault on France, while Nobby and I go round Belgium, and OUTFLANK them!" I suggested. Then I turned to Nobby, and informed him, in a low whisper, of our real intentions- "**** Belgium, Nobby, we're taking off". Nobby thought it was a sound idea. "Fookin roight!" he snarled.
Rising up out of his chair, Gunter seized the bottle of liquor off the table, chugged it down, reeled back on the balls of his feet, then thundered "GOTT MIT UNS!!" and charged out the front window of the restaurant and right into two police officers, clotheslining them both!
Meanwhile, Nobby and I stormed through the kitchen door, through the kitchen, and out the back door, knocking it off its hinges! We leapt in the Rolls Royce and pulled out, slowing down as we drove past a small brawl involving Gunter and 5 or 6 policemen.
Nobby rolled down his window, stuck his head out, and snarled "OI! Mates! 'URT THE SAUSAGE EATIN BAHSTAHD!!!" to the baton-wielding cops, then floored it and we roared off, laughing!

I hope Gunter takes it all in stride. I know he will, and count Nobby and I amongst his good friends, even as he sits, battered and bruised, in a holding cell at the police station!

[Army of One]

[swilkins1984]

I stopped believing after the 3rd line 

[Emmortal]

We can't stop here, it's bat country!

[240 is Back]

 

[m8]

[spinnis]

Cliffs for fuck sake

[TrueGrit]

I used to read those on bbing.com.

[m8]

I used to read those on bbing.com.

He was funnier back in the day.

[calmus]

Cliffs for fuck sake

they have Cliffs in ur country?

[TrueGrit]

He was funnier back in the day.

Yea...but fuck he was funny. I remember this one about him training a retarded kid, it was gold.

[gordiano]

Jeezus....these muscle worshipers can't even distinguish between reality and fantasy anymore.....

[candidizzle]

Yea...but fuck he was funny. I remember this one about him training a retarded kid, it was gold.

what are you talking about i want to read this

that was very funny !

[webcake]

I read that somewhere like a year ago or so...

[TrueGrit]

Helped out HANDICAPPED bros at the gym! (post #1)

Brothers,

I am thinking of getting into coaching for the disabled, both those with physical and mental disabilities- maybe something along the lines of the Special Olympics. A recent experience at the gym has, indeed, made me realize that NO MATTER what disability a person has, it should not deter them from pursuing the Iron Warrior lifestyle!

I was training back with my chauffeur and personal assistant, Nobby. We were doing weighted chins- the extra weight being a pencil neck we collared, frog-marched over to the chinning bar, and had him hang onto my legs as I repped out 10 chins, screaming with effort the whole time.
After my set, I noticed a number of handicapped folk training- some sort of group-home outing, no doubt. Nobby and I watched as one of the group-home workers tried to show a lad in a wheelchair how to do lat pulldowns, and had him using only 3 plates of the stack!
"This won't do", I sneered, and Nobby and I headed over to the woman and the handicapped fellow. "You think just because this man is wheelchair bound that he is a weakling?" I asked her. As she began to answer, Nobby smacked her across the face as I screamed "SILENCE!!" so loud the equipment rattled.
"Alright, brother- time for some REAL work!" I cried, put wrist straps on the man, put the pin to the bottom of the stack, added a 45 to it, pulled the pulldown-bar to his chest and while I held it there Nobby wrapped the straps around the bar. "BUSINESS- AS USUAL- NOW SQUEEZE....FEEL THE NEGATIVES!!" I roared, then let go of the bar. It snapped up, taking the man with it, and he flew over the pulldown machine and landed on the floor behind it, then began going into convulsions- he was having a seizure!
I looked at Nobby. He looked at me. I put my hands deep into my pockets and, looking as innocent as possible, sauntered off, whistling a piece by Handel. Nobby lumbered off in the other direction, stopping only to punch a punk wearing a wife beater reading 'Dumbell 150' on it in the face.

Later on, we headed over to the squat rack to do shrugs- but someone was using it! In this case, we decided not to toss them aside as a truly inspirational scene took place before our eyes.
There was a lad of about 20ish, suffering from Down's Syndrome, doing squats with 315- he was really putting superhuman effort into his sets! Once he was done, I approached him, offering my support.
"Bloody ****ing well done!" I cried. "What is your name?" I asked.
"Mawvin" he replied. Marvin was a happy looking fellow, and behind a pair of glasses with lenses 2 inches thick I could detect a warrior spirit. "Marvin, look about" I said. "You are the strongest of your group...I do hope YOU are taking bloody ****ing charge of this lot!" I cried. "See that man over there- the one in the wheelchair, drinking Gatorade...why not go over and claim that bloody Gatorade for yourself!"
"Roight. Show 'em who's bloody fookin boss!" Nobby snarled.
Marvin's eyes lit up, and he burst forth, screaming, in a frenzy not seen since Japanese 'banzai' charges of WWII, and charged straight at the man in the wheelchair, clotheslining him out of his chair. He snatched the gatorade bottle, and his maniacal banzai attack not quite over, he made a screaming dash at a fellow who was sitting on a bench analysing a bright shiny object he had picked up off the floor. Marvin crashed into him, and began putting the boots to him. At that moment, several group home workers and gym members tackled him, and as he screamed obscenities and struggled, one of the workers shoved a needle into his thigh and injected him with what was, no doubt, a powerful sedative. In 10 seconds, he stopped moving and the paramedics were called.

"I have seen enough. These poor fellows are being denied their DIGNITY!" I screamed. We headed out of the gym...and while heading out a man followed us into the parking lot. "Hi...look, I'm the manager of the group home...call me 'Projection'...and I know you guys are only trying to help, but-" at that point he put his hand on Nobby's shoulder "...we prefer to handle them ourselves!" he said warmly.
He had touched Nobby. The end was near, so very, very near.
I stepped back. The skies darkened, birds flew away, and Nobby stood there like stone, as the ramifications of what had just happened dawned on him.
Sreaming "FOOKIN POOFTAH!!!" Nobby delivered a kick, which would have sent a soccer ball into orbit, right into Projection's testicles, lifting him up a few feet into the air. While hanging in mid-air, Nobby lashed him across the face with his chain, and he came to the ground like a pile of dirty laundry, and lay quivering, in the fetal position with his hands between his legs, on the parking lot.

We jumped into the Rolls and roared off, as concerned members came out of the gym and, no doubt, the authorities were called.

Nobby and I are checking into coaching opportunities at the Special Olympics.
Any bros have experience in that department?

[Obvious Gimmick]

thats a lot of words. please summarize: let me help, just fill in the blanks

I had dinner with GS and he was ______________________. He ate ______________ while i had the fish.

We talked about _______________  and he was a _______________ guy. He was with a chick who had huge _____________ and when gunter wasnt looking she sucked my________________.

[Camel Jockey]

Did you open up Gunter's skull with an axe?

[McFarland]

Helped out HANDICAPPED bros at the gym! (post #1)

Brothers,

I am thinking of getting into coaching for the disabled, both those with physical and mental disabilities- maybe something along the lines of the Special Olympics. A recent experience at the gym has, indeed, made me realize that NO MATTER what disability a person has, it should not deter them from pursuing the Iron Warrior lifestyle!

I was training back with my chauffeur and personal assistant, Nobby. We were doing weighted chins- the extra weight being a pencil neck we collared, frog-marched over to the chinning bar, and had him hang onto my legs as I repped out 10 chins, screaming with effort the whole time.
After my set, I noticed a number of handicapped folk training- some sort of group-home outing, no doubt. Nobby and I watched as one of the group-home workers tried to show a lad in a wheelchair how to do lat pulldowns, and had him using only 3 plates of the stack!
"This won't do", I sneered, and Nobby and I headed over to the woman and the handicapped fellow. "You think just because this man is wheelchair bound that he is a weakling?" I asked her. As she began to answer, Nobby smacked her across the face as I screamed "SILENCE!!" so loud the equipment rattled.
"Alright, brother- time for some REAL work!" I cried, put wrist straps on the man, put the pin to the bottom of the stack, added a 45 to it, pulled the pulldown-bar to his chest and while I held it there Nobby wrapped the straps around the bar. "BUSINESS- AS USUAL- NOW SQUEEZE....FEEL THE NEGATIVES!!" I roared, then let go of the bar. It snapped up, taking the man with it, and he flew over the pulldown machine and landed on the floor behind it, then began going into convulsions- he was having a seizure!
I looked at Nobby. He looked at me. I put my hands deep into my pockets and, looking as innocent as possible, sauntered off, whistling a piece by Handel. Nobby lumbered off in the other direction, stopping only to punch a punk wearing a wife beater reading 'Dumbell 150' on it in the face.

Later on, we headed over to the squat rack to do shrugs- but someone was using it! In this case, we decided not to toss them aside as a truly inspirational scene took place before our eyes.
There was a lad of about 20ish, suffering from Down's Syndrome, doing squats with 315- he was really putting superhuman effort into his sets! Once he was done, I approached him, offering my support.
"Bloody ****ing well done!" I cried. "What is your name?" I asked.
"Mawvin" he replied. Marvin was a happy looking fellow, and behind a pair of glasses with lenses 2 inches thick I could detect a warrior spirit. "Marvin, look about" I said. "You are the strongest of your group...I do hope YOU are taking bloody ****ing charge of this lot!" I cried. "See that man over there- the one in the wheelchair, drinking Gatorade...why not go over and claim that bloody Gatorade for yourself!"
"Roight. Show 'em who's bloody fookin boss!" Nobby snarled.
Marvin's eyes lit up, and he burst forth, screaming, in a frenzy not seen since Japanese 'banzai' charges of WWII, and charged straight at the man in the wheelchair, clotheslining him out of his chair. He snatched the gatorade bottle, and his maniacal banzai attack not quite over, he made a screaming dash at a fellow who was sitting on a bench analysing a bright shiny object he had picked up off the floor. Marvin crashed into him, and began putting the boots to him. At that moment, several group home workers and gym members tackled him, and as he screamed obscenities and struggled, one of the workers shoved a needle into his thigh and injected him with what was, no doubt, a powerful sedative. In 10 seconds, he stopped moving and the paramedics were called.

"I have seen enough. These poor fellows are being denied their DIGNITY!" I screamed. We headed out of the gym...and while heading out a man followed us into the parking lot. "Hi...look, I'm the manager of the group home...call me 'Projection'...and I know you guys are only trying to help, but-" at that point he put his hand on Nobby's shoulder "...we prefer to handle them ourselves!" he said warmly.
He had touched Nobby. The end was near, so very, very near.
I stepped back. The skies darkened, birds flew away, and Nobby stood there like stone, as the ramifications of what had just happened dawned on him.
Sreaming "FOOKIN POOFTAH!!!" Nobby delivered a kick, which would have sent a soccer ball into orbit, right into Projection's testicles, lifting him up a few feet into the air. While hanging in mid-air, Nobby lashed him across the face with his chain, and he came to the ground like a pile of dirty laundry, and lay quivering, in the fetal position with his hands between his legs, on the parking lot.

We jumped into the Rolls and roared off, as concerned members came out of the gym and, no doubt, the authorities were called.

Nobby and I are checking into coaching opportunities at the Special Olympics.
Any bros have experience in that department?

These should be adapted into a screenplay of some sort. 

[theworm]

with a hot ass wife like his, i am sure he would rather spend his time with two eglish queers named nooby....


amateurs.....

[G o a t b o y]

I looked at Nobby. He looked at me. I put my hands deep into my pockets and, looking as innocent as possible, sauntered off, whistling a piece by Handel.

This was the point where I had to stop reading because I was laughing so hard it hurt.

[tommywishbone]

Was Scott Alexander jealous?

[youandme]

did you write that yourself? that was pretty good, the German war connotations and stuff were interesting actually read it for that haha

[JOHN MATRIX]

these were all stolen from the great, fabled VICTORIAN GUY of bb.com. he showed up from time to time with a golden story, then disappeared one day, never to be heard from again. his true identity remains a mystery.

[McFarland]

these were all stolen from the great, fabled VICTORIAN GUY of bb.com. he showed up from time to time with a golden story, then disappeared one day, never to be heard from again. his true identity remains a mystery.

I'm pretty sure he and Longshanks were one in the same. 

[JOHN MATRIX]

ahahah Nobby was one of the greatest characters ever.