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This is a question Apparently I'm a sex offender

I was once paid £15 to count the amount of people visiting a hairdresser. I stood outside for 3 hours with a clicky counter in my pocket, pressing it every time a person entered. Suddenly there's a copper in front of me, I turn and there's another behind. "What are you up to sunshine?" "A rival hairdresser wants to count the competition" "Well, there's been a call from the shop owner that there's a ginger bloke standing outside fiddling with his cock." Have you ever done anything that made strangers think you were a pervert?

(, Thu 17 Aug 2006, 22:20)
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This question is now closed.

Once got beaten up

For shitting on a girl. I'd only paid to piss on her, and apparently the crapping was extra.
(, Fri 18 Aug 2006, 16:58, Reply)
What's the world coming to

When you get funny looks for playing 'How high can you wank' in a phone booth I ask you.
(, Fri 18 Aug 2006, 16:51, Reply)
Filthy, dirty bastard
About four years ago two friends and I were waiting in a New York subway station for a train after a night out. I was nervous enough(with all the things you hear about such places) when my anxiety levels rocketted through the roof as I clocked a very tall, mental and strong looking guy having a tug on the platform.

He was stood slightly back so that most people facing the tracks couldn't see him. Even so, plenty had noticed and were ignoring him. He was drooling with his pants around his arse and staring intently at a group of oblivious girls. When he noticed that I was looking (agog) at him he fixed his gaze on me and entered into a staring competition, still tugging merrily away (Obviously, he had no prefernce for gender). It seemed like he was scrutinising my very soul.

Looking him in the eye was a mistake. I was hypnotised. Frozen in the gaze of the Medusa. You've never known confusion until you've been eyeballed by a wanking mentalist.

The usual fight or flight reactions deserted me and I was under his spell, rooted to the spot, all the time thinking 'surely he's embarrassed and will stop.' Thank God the train came.

He's probably still there - looking intense and flogging his pud.

Okay, so it wasn't me who was the sex pest, but I still felt dirty afterwards.
(, Fri 18 Aug 2006, 16:02, Reply)
Two tales of pseudo fiddling
While working as a teacher in China, I was always mildly amused to be followed by a group of six or more girls who wanted to practise their English. I asked them one day, "Are you all best friends? You're never apart!"

They looked embarrassed and one of them confessed: "Our principal told us that all Western men are immoral. We must only greet you in groups of six or more, or you will rape us." Absolutely true.

When teaching in Greece, I accepted an invitation to a 16 year-old female student's house so her family could thank me for her exam passes. After the meal, the girl vanished and returned to to the living room wearing a skintight ensemble that showed her every crevice. She was nubile to the point of meltdown nubility.

I tried not to look, but her father egged me on: "Look at her ass! That's fine body isn't it? What do you think of her body?"

I mumbled some platitudes and ran home to masturbate frenetically. I developed an unsavoury reputation in that town shortly afterwards.
(, Fri 18 Aug 2006, 15:29, Reply)
unknowing perv behavior
couple of years ago when i was single for the first time in years, and totally terrified by the concept of dating again, and totally unused to following on from the early chatting/flirting stages a very attractive young lady made all the moves, thus saving me all the awkward guessing/worrying/stammering. she ended up sitting very close, giggling prettily, then sitting on my knee in a club and all looked pretty good for me. til i went to the bar... friend who was the barman looked a bit oddly at me. quote:

"dude. she's 15...." meaningful pause....

thats slightly less than half my age. but you wouldn't have sussed either

i told her she was beautiful, half my age and i had a fear of prison

then legged it.
(, Fri 18 Aug 2006, 15:10, Reply)
you silly fuckers getting caught
tsk
(, Fri 18 Aug 2006, 15:07, Reply)
Also a sex offender
Whilst at college, I was seduced by one of those college credit cards. They gave me a Slinky. At the time, my college mailbox number was one digit off my social security number. I gave them the wrong SSN.

Fast forward to five years later, when I applied for my corporate credit card at my very first job. My managing partner got a letter from the credit bureau stating that they were obliged to inform him that was I registered sex offender. My boss called me into his office.

"Alison, says here you were arrested for child molestation in the state of Arizona in 1972."

I was born in 1976.

It took forever to clear up.
(, Fri 18 Aug 2006, 15:05, Reply)
Now I think about it...
...every bloody chav I see has one or both hands down his pants most of the time. I despise that about them more than anything, and there's lots not to like already.

If I had a quid for every time I've said 'Play with your dick at home you fucking chimp' then I'd have a decent night out at least. Okay then, not so much 'said' as 'muttered' - those fuckers are the human equivalent of velociraptors, after all.

For this reason I'd never shake hands with a chav, assuming they had enough knowledge of common courtesy to know what shaking hands is, which in most cases is probably unlikely.

I've even seen chavettes doing it - mmmmm classy :/
(, Fri 18 Aug 2006, 15:03, Reply)
It was all slippery
You know those statues on Easter Island? All in a row, staring straight ahead with no expression whatsoever?

Well that's exactly what a hungover rugby team looks like when they are sitting on the grass at a christening and an eight year old girl strips off and decides to climb all over them.

It's funny how you would rather let her wipe her bare arse all over your head than try and stop her in any way that might mean either using your hands or opening your mouth.

Had it been a rather haggard and saggy old stripper, or a fat and flatulent No.8 then no problems (just to reassure you that stereotypes are alive and well, though a tad fishier).
(, Fri 18 Aug 2006, 15:02, Reply)
technically i'm a paedophile.
when i was 18 i slept with a girl who SAID SHE WAS 16. every mans nightmare... she was 15. just. i'm 21 now, and still get called "gary" or "peedo" by anyone who knows about it.
(, Fri 18 Aug 2006, 14:57, Reply)
Holland Park
A few years back (well more than a few) I attended Holland Park School. It was early afternoon so about 2pm, the sun was shining and the sky was blue. On the horizon we noticed an old man dressed entirely in black (tracksuit) who appeared to have his hands down his trousers. As he got closer i could see that he was clearly playing with himself. Now my friend being very naive didn't pick up on what was going on, so as he came closer i tried to step out of his way. Noticing i had made a deliberate attempt to move this guy approached my friend. At this point (whilst he was still furiously beating away) i overheard the faint whisper of, "The white stuffs coming". At this point my friend (for some odd reason) assumed he was talking about clouds in the sky and looked upwards, it was at this point i burst out into laughter. I'll also remind people who are not versed in the geography of Holland Park that this was on a path often referred to by the school kids as Batty mans alley.

Okay perhps the story wasn't about me being on the sex offenders register, but he was. And yes i can't really tell stories very well :)
(, Fri 18 Aug 2006, 14:56, Reply)
paedos in a van
i'm an electrician. myself and my colleage were sitting in our van, eating lunch and talking bollocks by some public loos next to this lye/feild play area whilst about 30 girls aged 8-10 played sports with teachers. it must have been an outing of sorts for the kids. i thought nothing of it untill three or four of the teachers had congregated about 20ft from the van and were pointing at us and talking, one of whom was on the phone. it clicked. they thought we were paedophiles eyeing up the kids. they were on the phone to the old bill. we didnt stop to say we weren't either, we were straight off down the road at top speed, as fast as our 1-litre diesel minivan would take us.

we have never returned since.
(, Fri 18 Aug 2006, 14:52, Reply)
Just yesterday actually
I'm a fan of Aston Villa FC, who are on the brink of being taken over by American billionnaire, Randy Lerner.

Last night I was walking home (after a few ales, which may have made it seem a better idea than it was) whilst singing "I'm a Randy man".

Apparently people didn't notice the upper-case "r".
(, Fri 18 Aug 2006, 14:49, Reply)
Not me but a friend....
...Used to have (and still does as far as I know) a great habit of using his phone to take photos/videos of pretty girls he sees. Now this is always a pretty harmless activity and is done very tongue in cheek ( he deletes most of them afterwards) but as you can imagine it's not something you want to get caught doing...

In a bar listening to some live music, it got pretty crowded and a couple sat down opposite us at our table. The girl was pretty enough, and her bloke was a big bald biker type. My friend had his camera phone out and skillfully, under the guise of writing a message (directly infront of his face) took a photo, snapped shut phone and thought no more of it. Later when he looked at it, he had a photo of the girl looking at the stage, and her bloke staring straight into the camera lens, with a 'you've been completely collared' expression on his face...
d'oh!
(, Fri 18 Aug 2006, 14:44, Reply)
wades into the joke war.....
How do you get 10 pommies into a phone booth?

Make one the boss and the other nine will crawl up his arse.
(, Fri 18 Aug 2006, 14:35, Reply)
Mummy hurt me while Woodchopper held me down
A few years back I got on well with the couple that lived across the road in the Edinburgh mews in which I lived. Every so often I used to babysit their delightful two/three year old daughter.

One day I was leaving the front door and I saw mother and child walking down the street, and the child was crying her eyes out. She had a huge wooden splinter in her hand.

The child was so distressed that she refused to let us examine her hand. She refused bribes, veiled threats and cajoaling, and all the time got more and more hysterical. We considered taking her to casualty, but thought she might get even worse in a stange environment.

Eventually, I pinned her hand to the table while her mum removed the spelk with a pair of tweesers.

Next morning at kindergarten, the child was asked what she got up to the day before. She replied "Mummy hurt me while Woodchopper held me down". Fortunately her mum was able to explain things before the authorities were involved....
(, Fri 18 Aug 2006, 14:31, Reply)
aussies
Q) How many Aussies does it take to change a lightbulb?
A) 016. 1 to change the bulb, and 15 to stand around going "Good on yer, mite!"

Also, never mind Benny Hill and the Carry On Films, what about Neighbours, Home and Away, Heartbreak High, The Delinquents and Stefan Fucking Dennis.

I actually went to Oz once. When I arrived they searched my stuff and asked if I had a criminal record. I said "Is one still necessary?"
(, Fri 18 Aug 2006, 14:11, Reply)
Sorry to answer a question with a link
But: www.b3ta.com/questions/stuff_youve_overheard/post10600/

Fits into this question perfectly, albeit 2 years old.
(, Fri 18 Aug 2006, 13:57, Reply)
One night
When I used to go out to the local shit rock club at the age of 15, I got beaten up quite badly once. I later found out that the person who did it had been telling everyone (completely wrongly, of course) that I was a rapist.

I got the last laugh though. The guy ended up getting pigged for assulting a minor, getting nearly kicked to death by two big black guys, and eventually ended up in prison.

Guess what for?

Rape.
(, Fri 18 Aug 2006, 13:48, Reply)
Carry on
You leave carry ons out of this apeloverage

29 films i beleive.

Theres culture fer ya.
(, Fri 18 Aug 2006, 13:47, Reply)
I used to be a teacher
but then this picture got about on the interweb

(, Fri 18 Aug 2006, 13:36, Reply)
No Funny Story This Week

I used to work in a bar when I was at college and one night, two detectives came in and asked to speak to me. They took me in the snug and then started asking questions about where I'd been that night around 7pm. Well I started work at 7 so I told them that and when I left the house, where I walked and exactly how long it took me to get to work. They checked my story with the landlord and asked me to come to the station when convenient to sign a statement and then they left.

I still didn't have a clue what I was supposed to have done but, as the night went on, the jungle drums informed us that a woman had been raped in a graveyard near my home. The very graveyard that I walked past every night on my way to work.

As Plod had been in to see me, some locals put 2 and 2 together and made 5, and I was getting a lot of snide comments. It was not a nice night. Eventually the landlord told me to knock off early for the night and gave me a lift home.

The next day the whole story broke. A woman who I knew, not well, but I knew her, had been raped in the graveyard at just after 7pm. She was positive about the time as the church bells were striking when her attacker grabbed her and dragged her into the graveyard. At 7pm I had already arrived at work so that let me out. Also, to my intense relief, Plod had lifted and charged another bloke with rape and the woman had positively identified her attacker.

I think that 24 hours is probably amongst the worst in my life - and hers.

So no funny punchline. Even I don't find rape a laughing matter.

Cheers
(, Fri 18 Aug 2006, 13:31, Reply)
...
What's the difference between an Australian and a computer ?

You only have to punch information into a computer once
(, Fri 18 Aug 2006, 13:29, Reply)
another actually true email exchange.
I contacted this young lady via a dating site, and we started to exchange emails.


her: I'd say from your photo that you're about 25.

me: astonishing, you were only seven years off (put in a less sarcastic way)


me: (mentions I'm vegan)

her: yeah, I wanted to go vegan. But I'm not sure my Mum would let me.

me: OK...and on a completely unrelated topic, how old are you exactly?

her: I'll be 18 in July.


her: is that a problem?

well, only morally and legally.

we didn't exchange any dirty stuff so it was OK, but jaysus. You were meant to be 18 to go on the site as well.

I should've pointed out that many 32 year olds on the site would be more than happy to hook up with her, but they'll all turn out to be gross beyond belief, but I didn't, mainly because I assumed she'd have the thing of "that advice is for other 17 year olds, who aren't incredibly mature like me".
(, Fri 18 Aug 2006, 13:19, Reply)
unfair comparison.

OK, the Benny Hill reference was a bit unfair.

Now, 10 movies which consist of a man looking at Barbara Windsor's breasts, while pretending not to - now that's culture.
(, Fri 18 Aug 2006, 13:09, Reply)
Confessions of a 13 year old cleaner
I guess the following is an inverse answer to this QOTW, however I could really do with the therapy. Long story, bear with me...

When I was 13, I was a bit of a tearaway; naughty and mischievious but always quite naive. After school had broken up for summer that year, I pestered my parents for money to go out with. Bored and annoyed, my parents tried to set me up with a paper round which I refused to do. Couple of weeks into the holidays, bored and broke, I gave in to my mums brainwave of putting a card in the window of the local newsagents, advertising my services as a gardener/cleaner probably with the good intentions of having some rich old widow take me on to carry her shopping.

Eventually an old man called Stan rang and asked if I could come and do some jobs around his flat. Reluctantly, I met him a few days later and we caught a bus to his tower block. He seemed very friendly and chatted a lot and when we got into his flat, I was surprised to see it was very clean and tidy.

For the next hour or so he got me doing completely unneccessary jobs like sweeping the 0.0003 dirt particles that were on the floor and dusting the already sparkling furniture. I was feeling mildly uneasy at the time but being naive didnt really understand why. Stan made me a ham sandwich and glass of pop and whilst I was tucking in out of the blue, I felt his hands on me, rubbing my shoulders from behind.

"Do you like being massaged?" Stan asked.

Oh fuck.

I replied "no, not really" in a little scared rabbit voice, and leant forward in the chair out of his reach. He didnt say anything but put his hands back on my neck and shoulders. At this point, I shot up out of the chair and stammered some excuse about 'having to go'. He gave me a tenner and saw me off at the door without saying anything else.

I was a bit worked up for the rest of the day and didnt bother telling my parents because I thought I would be lectured for not finishing the job (ahem). Then I just forgot about it.

Maybe about six years later I saw him and memories of the whole episode flooded back. I realised how close I had been to getting bummed by a dirty old man for ten pounds and a Vimto. He was in a bus queue and looked at me with slight recognition. I was a bit shocked and just blurted out "What the fuck are you looking at?" which frightened him a bit.

So there you go. I often thought about the possibility that he was a serial sex offender and about reporting him to the police, but my experience seemed nothing in comparison to sensationally tragic stories which seem to be continually plastered all over the media.

Apologies for length, but as a shrivelled old raisin of a man, he probably didnt have any.
(, Fri 18 Aug 2006, 13:01, Reply)
I had a near-miss...
...with the sex offender's register once, at least in the eyes of others, but sidestepped it beautifully even if I say so myself.

I'd left my folks to live with the then-gf and a few mates in a place that we rented in a neigbouring town, but I came back often to visit folks and mates. Knowing the town as I did and still with no driving licence, I travelled mostly by way of back-alleys and such, partly so marauding munchkins didn't crash into my bollocks with those lil' metal scooters and partly because when you're on foot a shortcut is a shortcut.

One time a couple of young girls, maybe 12 and 15, were ahead of me in an alley and I tend to yomp it when I'm on my own so I was gaining. As I did, I overheard them speculating about whether they should run out of the alley to avoid getting beasted by me. Ignoring the insult, which for me is unusual, I waited until they looked back at me again and then cracked the biggest yawn I could muster. Upon seeing this, the eldest of the two said 'On second thought, I think we'll be alright'.

One of very few true blinders I've ever played. I'm proud :)
(, Fri 18 Aug 2006, 12:51, Reply)
cultural cringe.
QUOTE:

What is the difference between australia and yoghurt?

Yoghurt has culture


Very true. For example many Australians, and if I'm honest perhaps including me, still don't get why Benny Hill is hilarious.
(, Fri 18 Aug 2006, 12:26, Reply)
Citroen
I walked into the Citroen dealership in Texas, intent on purchasing a new vehicle. I felt physically sick at the thought of giving my money to the French, but I loved the Citroen symbol so much. It reminded me of a brace of albatross mating in mid-flight and never failed to make me smile. My spaniel had just been raped and murdered and I needed cheering up. So in I went.

"Good day, sir!" honked a middle-aged man with greying hair, ruddy cheeks and an American accent. I could see a tuft of silver hair protruding from his flies, and the sight warmed me.
"Hello there," I politely replied.
"Don't patronise me!" bellowed the bovine fellow. "I'll eat you for breakfast!"
I tried to run, but his transatlantic legs were simply too fast for me. He tripped me and I fell heavily before slipping from consciousness.

When I came round, the man was nailing me to the front of a brand new Citroen. He wrapped me entirely round the front end in place of the bumper, then calmly walked away.

Hours later, a young Texan woman came in to browse the selection of Citroens available. She saw me and hurried over. "What are you doing down there?" she asked.
Shamefully, I replied, "Apparently I'm a Saxo fender."

Arf!

Sorry.
(, Fri 18 Aug 2006, 12:22, Reply)

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