On Sunday, we had brunch with Mr E Man's oldest brother, plus his (hilarious new) fiancee and two sons. Crammed into a booth in a busy restaurant, the conversation turned to misheard song lyrics, and from there to a story about someone mishearing the word "hamster" as "cancer", with hilarious consequences.
I sat back and waited, with a smug little smile on my lips.
I always win these things.
Yeah, so the hamster story was good, and HNF thought she'd won. But then I played the ace up my sleeve; the story of a misheard question that no-one has yet been able to beat.
The other grad student in my lab in Glasgow was called Mike, but everyone called him Mikey Boy. One day I was walking through our building's main lobby area (reception desk, glass doors, bike racks outside) towards the stairs to the lab area. Our IT guy (who was friends with all the students and postdocs) was standing by the doors, coat on, and looking at his watch. As I approached him, he said something to me.
What he actually said: "If you see that Mikey Boy upstairs, can you tell him to move his fat arse?"
What I heard: "See that bike of yours outside? You can tell it's made for a fat arse"
Can anyone beat that?
6 Tours to Get to Know Vancouver This Summer
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