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A phrase derived partly from the French (du Jour - 'of the day') used to describe the largest breasts (Rack) seen on a girl seen that day, or sometimes within an arbitrary time frame such as on an evening out. Thought to have originated in the early 1920s in the French Quarter of New Orleans.
Christ alive Orville, look at those tumblers. She's got to have the Rack Du Jour!
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A feacal deposit left in the toilet bowl following an unsuccessful flush. Due to the density of human excreta these visual obscenities usually reside at periscope depth. Simple post-flush checks by the degenerates that leave them behind would render the Brown Submarine a thing of the past.
Bridge Officer: Captain! Bearing 030 off the starboard bow. Brown Submarine!
Captain: Set Depth Charges to Zero...Fire 1...Fire 2...
Bridge Officer: ....Enemy flushed sir.
Captain: Good work sailor, the Rear Admiral will be pleased.
The mysterious and undetected figure responsible for fouling public toilets (including those in the work place) in a most heinous manner. To Crimp in the modern vernacular being the verb to open one's bowels. In these cases the faeces usually manifests itself on the rear side of the toilet seat. Using complex trigonometry and huge amounts of conjecture, scientists have hypothesised that a human sub-species possessing an Anus in the lower back is responsible.
Jenkins: By jings Frobisher! Some poor fellow has made a deeply unsuccessful attempt at dropping night soil in this Privy.
Frobisher: Jenkins you bloody fool! Can't you see? This is obviously the work of the Scarlet Crimpernel. Call the Gendarmes!
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Verb to describe having ones expenses or financial status 'reviewed'. Taken after the The Daily Telegraph newspaper that published leaked papers showing how certain British MPs have claimed expenses inappropriately.
Allen: Jesus Bateman, there's not a chance you'll get your $5000 claim for watermarked business cards paid.
Bateman: I claimed over $45,000 in expenses last year and didn't get Telegraphed once. Fuck 'em.
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When suffering from a hangover, all areas of the human body seem to shut down - all functions are inoperable or at least you don't have the energy to try them. All that is, bar one. Despite feeling that you're close to death, the libido not only remains, but seems to be heightened - congratulations, you have the Hangover Horn.
Sarah: Jesus, where have you been, I've been phoning you for ages?!
Mike: Sorry, I was out drinking last night. I've got the Hangover Horn, you caught me on the up stroke.
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