It's cruel because it's true*
There was a kid who was bullying me at school, spent years tormenting me and coming up with overelaborate tricks to play on me. Or, one time, simply shooting me in the back with a BB gun in the changing rooms. It was seemingly a meaningless expression of irrational anger.

Then I found out that his mother had a glandular condition that meant that he had to do all the work around the house, look after her, and generally have the responsibility of someone many years his senior. This meant at school he was desperate to get away from it all, to vent his frustrations.

And then she passed away. And the bullying got worse. Until one day...

He and his friends had cornered me by the dinner hall, and were pinging off various insults 'Your mum's so fat...' 'Your dad's a toilet seat,' 'Your mum's a whore', etc. until I got really frustrated and yelled at him:

'Your mother's so fat SHE DIED.'

He left me alone after that. Once he'd beaten me up anyway.

*It isn't. I'm bored.
(thePontificator, Sat 5 Feb 2011, 16:00, Reply)

The scene is a dingy basement club in Edinburgh.
A while ago, I tried to chat up a lovely-looking Turkish girl on a sticky and murky dancefloor, a task made at once easier and infinitely more difficult by the fact that I was pissed as a bastard and in no fit state to be out in public. To her credit she dealt my drunken advances fairly patiently, up until I pulled my trump card: an absolutely ripe one that smelled like the aftermath of a mighty battle between cabbages and eggs.

I couldn't really hide that I had just stenched the house down, but by God my alcohol-raddled brain thought it had just the plan. She provided me with the perfect opening when she asked "did you just fart?". Aha! thought I. There's room for doubt! It all depends on my next line!

"I thought that was you."

Needless to say, she didn't go near me for the rest of the night. I had the last laugh though, as I cracked one out when I got home that night and managed to avoid weeping.
(StapMyVitals wouldn't mind a bit of that, Sat 5 Feb 2011, 15:34, 5 replies)

Members only in Melbunn Australya
Was at a pub on Chapel street, St. Kilda, when the group of gırls my mate had been attemptıng to chat up decıded to mosey across the road to a club

We went along and as the gırls dıssappeared up the staırs, my mate doth protest to the bouncer 'WE ARE WITH THEM' as we had the door shut on us

'Sorry but you have to be on the list'
Seeıng my crestfallen frıends face drop to megatron crushıng depths was too much
'So how do we get on the list aye'
'Come regularly wıth other people who are on the lıst, or know the DJ' bouncerman said matter of factly
'But how can we when we've only come down from Sydney for 3 nights'
'...go on in'

BAM!
(lemonadegame, Sat 5 Feb 2011, 15:22, 4 replies)

The oneupmanship.
An indeterminate amount of time ago I happened to be doing something arbitrary when someone who I either know or do not know interrupted what I was doing in a no doubt rude manner. I professed my shock in some sort of way before either karma or a person who I either know or do not know intervened. The aforementioned interuptee was then either incredibly embarrassed, humourously injured or, depending on how much of a cunt I or the interuptee is, severely injured. There was then either stifled or raucous laughter or gasps of shock, depending on the fate of the antagonist.

Needless to say, I had the last laugh.
( mike woz ere 7442200 & 7696970 getter, Sat 5 Feb 2011, 14:45, 1 reply)

Needless to say, they had the last laugh.
It makes me cringe at the memory of this, typing it out, but if anyone deserves a low-grade smut story, I suppose it's you guys.

I was invited to a club of very low repute by a good friend of mine, on the pretext that he was going to do up a mutual friend like the proverbial kipper. Oh boy, was I wrong. The night in question was a stag night, and part of the "entertainment" two incredibly filthy and mind-bogglingly ropey strippers were employed to entertain the crowds. The friend who invited me was to do standup in between the "acts". Little did I know how the acts were to turn out.

There were 12 stunning young girls mingling with the guests before the show began. My "friend" went on, did a few gags and introduced on Kelly, a girl with a set of norks that wouldn't have looked out of place on a cow. The girl began to do her bit before leaving the stage in pursuit of a victim. As luck would have it, she chose me. Then, some foam and squirty cream were employed and my head stuffed between the enormous baps. Then out came the clunge and was projected into my face.

At this point I was rather shocked at the close contact but then things really happened. With the gentle help of my mate Ash, a professional pikey wrestler doing security, I was escorted to the stage and an awaiting chair. The girl, who quite frankly could frighten a police horse, then removed my shirt and began doing all manner of filthy things with more squirty cream and at one point I was forced to lick it off of her arse crack, nipples and belly button. Things then became rather uncomfortable for me. I was then bent over the chair, my shirt removed, and my arse was then thrashed with a leather strap. You could easily see the pain in my eyes and some protesting took place. The girl, now completely naked sat on me and employed a large bush buzzer on herself. It was red, like my face.

As I cleaned up and went back to my seat, from backstage I could hear my so-called friends having a very hearty last laugh.

The cunts.
( jim_bob can herd cats., Sat 5 Feb 2011, 11:38, 7 replies)

I get all the birds
I was hanging about at a bus-stop one day(waiting for a bus, ofcourse) munching on a big bag of greasy chips drenched in vinegar when this fuckhuge seagull comes crashing down onto the bag of chips and grabs them off of me. I manage to make sense of what happened just in time to see the bugger slap right into a passing car.

Serves the cunt right, I still have a feather from it as a keepsake.


_{yes stealing my chips is worthy of death.}
(Stumour, Sat 5 Feb 2011, 11:20, Reply)

Hungover pea roast as my brain can't work out something new to type
Working in a pub you meet lots of nice people, unfortunately you also have to suffer more than your fair share of cockends.

Now, I have a large number of footy style knobbers who drink in my establishment and one week a particularly loud, mono-brain celled chap fucked me off and I vowed to get him back. The next week he struts in, not bothering to appologise for last weeks penistry and orders a bottle of Becks, and so it starts. I take an ice cold bottle out of the fridge, open it and plonk it in front of him.

Now he proceeds to drink another 8 odd bottles, getting louder and more obnoxious with each one.

Once again he's getting on my nerves. His loud and grating voice letting everyone in the postcode know his small and worthless opinion on every subject. So, I go over to tell him to wind his neck in and stop being so obnoxious.

"Well, you shouldn't have served me so much beer," he tells me. To which, with a big shit eating grin, I can only reply by picking up one of his empty bottles off the table and pointing at it. "It's no alcohol Becks, you idiot. That's all I've been serving you today".

His mates start pissing themselves and taking the piss out of their "friend", who it transpires has managed to get "drunk" of 9 bottles of 0.05% lager. To make matters even better, he ran out of money, couldn't afford to buy another drink, his mates wouldn't buy him one and he got the appropriate response from me when he asked for a tab.

Yes, sometimes I like the power I have in my job.
( monkeyboyalpha jumping on the bandwagon since, Sat 5 Feb 2011, 9:40, 7 replies)

Once..
I was sitting in my chair, on the balcony, enjoying my brunch criossant in the delightful sun, reading the paper, when the rude serving boy who had incorrectly poured the cream into my coffee tripped and fell into the road below.

Needless to say I had the last laugh.
( DinivanX Has stinging piss after drinking Pact Coffee, Sat 5 Feb 2011, 0:58, 1 reply)

I laughed last...
... had to filename to de-RIS.
( Photoshop Bitch 2014 edition, Sat 5 Feb 2011, 0:09, Reply)

Mates - kinda....
Having been a split family kid, the whole friends thing was a bit tricky. Mates during the week couldn't be seen at weekends as they were 30 miles away, and the friends at the weekend were not seen enough to be good mates!

But James was a family friend who I only saw at weekends. He was a knob. Whatever I had done, he had done it twice, with lesbians, in a Porsche.

I go off to uni, and get a job as a bookie. Occasionally, I get a cracking tip. And free tickets. I get free tickets for the Lincoln meeting in 1999. And some how James is there. And comes up , knowing I am a bookie and asks for a tip, with all of his mates from work. "Little Strump knows horses, he'll give us a good tip, I'll back his word"

The previous night, a connection of Right Wing came into our office and states it'll win as long as there is no rain. Lovely rain free night. My office has had about £20k on it, and caved the price in the morning before the race from 8/1 to 5/1. So I tell James the favourite will win, and I've backed him with a grand, where-as my £1k is on Right Wing at 8/1. He goes on about small fry bets, and disappears off to the bookies.

He has to be better, so goes and puts "all of my wedge" on the same horse. The Favourite. No form. Never ran well over the distance.

I actually cheered the favourite all the way to the line, and felt his disappointment. Until I picked up £9k from the track bookies on the way out.

1-0
(Strump striving for imperfection since, Fri 4 Feb 2011, 23:07, Reply)

This bloke called me a cunt and told me to get a 'proper job'
Then parked on Double Yellow Lines right in front of me.

Take that £70 PCN, you git.

Lol.
( The_Commander_of_Skips wears his sunglasses at night, Fri 4 Feb 2011, 22:44, 5 replies)

I was at high school
And had a rivalry with a nasty bully type who didn't like me being attracted to the girl he had the hots for.

Fortunately, I learned karate and beat him in the final of the championship.

Fortunately, although I was better at basketball when I was a werewolf, my team beat his in the basketball final.

Fortunately, I made a woman on my friend's computer and she helped me realise the quality that was always implicit within me.

Fortunately, my son came from the future and helped me get it on with her, though she had an incestuous passion for him.

Fortunately, I started riding a motorbike in disguise and she got the hots for me.

Fortunately, although I drank blood and all that, I helped kill the vampires, except the bird and her little boy, of course.

Needless to say, I had the last laugh.
(McChinaman banned, Fri 4 Feb 2011, 18:08, 6 replies)

the only reason i had the last laugh
is because i was on the bog the first time the joke was told.
( Smash Monkey lowering the tone of the whole internet, Fri 4 Feb 2011, 17:44, Reply)

It all started last night...
...when I showed up for a meeting, and was unceremoniously laid off by the company that up until now had provided my main source of income. I'm a self employed entertainer, and in the current economical climate times are tough for everyone, but this isn't (as far as I know) a financial decision, just a "you're not right for our venues" issue. It seems strange to me, as they have kept me on for nearly 5 years, and this is the first I knew that things weren't right. No word of complaint from the management, takings are continuing to rise, and the customers seem to be enjoying themselves.

However, it appears that at least one member of the management team is either very stupid, or just vindictive... my phone has been ringing constantly all week with calls from concerned friends, customers and even other venues offering me work, all of whom had heard about my loss several days before me. It seems that the venue manager told a customer last weekend, not realising that her grand-daughter's father is the brother of my God Daughter's uncle! As there is no smoke without fire (even in this poor excuse for a town where the main hobby seems to be starting nasty rumours) I had already provisionally accepted a new job in a better venue for slightly more money before I had the meeting last night, and haven't told my current (but soon to be ex) employers that I knew what was coming, or that I had new work lined up.

Even more surprising is that I have been given two weeks notice. That's two weeks of work that they quite honestly didn't have to give me, and two weeks of opportunities to network with the customers, and if I wanted to, screw them over - either by not turning up, or worse still having a full rant over the microphone. If I was them, I would be very scared about what could happen... and at least make sure that there is someone standing by to cover me. And I'm sure that this will already be in place... and no doubt the doorstaff will have had their instructions too.

But I'm going to have the last laugh next Saturday, my final night, by doing absolutely nothing to harm their business & not telling the management what I really think of them despite them stabbing me in the back... two weekends of seeing them sweat and twitch, wondering what is going to happen is good enough revenge for me... and I will leave with my head held high like the true pro that I am!
(Nozirrah turned left instead of right and ended up here on, Fri 4 Feb 2011, 15:12, 20 replies)

"No," they said.

( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Fri 4 Feb 2011, 14:30, Reply)

I have an IQ of 59
needless to say...
(cinquante_neuf vintage bintage circa, Fri 4 Feb 2011, 14:18, 11 replies)

Prawns
A mate of a mate (really) had a nasty, bitchy divorce a while back. Whether he was as hard done by and royally shafted as he claimed is hard to verify, as I haven't heard the other side's version, but he was certainly pretty bitter about the whole thing. Especially about the fact that she got the house and most of its contents. So when he arranged, via the lawyers, that he should come round and collect the few items he was allowed to take, one of the stipulations of this visit was that the ex-to-be would be out at work so that never the twain should meet (and kill each other, most likely).

This suited him fine. He grabbed whatever he was entitled to as quickly as possible and spent the rest of the time sewing frozen prawns into the top of the living room curtains.

So far this is a fairly common act of revenge. I suspect many people know of someone who has done, or claimed to have done, something like this.

What gives the mate's mate the last laugh though is that the smell got so bad that the ex eventually moved out.

And insisted on taking the curtains with her.

A tallish story I know, but I do rather hope it's true!
(eesnahk, Fri 4 Feb 2011, 13:49, 11 replies)

Bouncing a big posh car!
Got blocked in on a car park, not long after passing my test, so was a bit stuck for a plan and would soon be late for work.

A big posh car was parked at right angles behind the row I was on, obstructing a few other vehicles too.

As I stood scratching my head a small crowd gathered. A couple of blokes tried to back the car out for me with no success.

Eventually, some of the chaps decided to take things into their own hands and bounced one back wheel of the offending car up onto the very high pavement beside it. Another whipped my old banger out.

I thanked them profusely and asked, will you be putting that back now?

Naaah, they said, laughing. I fled.

After work I popped back to see what had gone on, and the car was still there, hanging off the high kerb. The owner, a young woman in a smart business suit, was looking on as the police and a couple of breakdown men inspected the car's back end.

I drove carefully past and slunk home.

There were double yellow lines there within weeks and CCTV a few years later. Wouldn't get away with it now!
(Juan Quar is clinging to her front teeth on, Fri 4 Feb 2011, 13:39, 6 replies)

i used to work late
nights at a call in the city centre of manchester. because of where i lived, if it was a friday night, i'd get a taxi back home, instead instead of the danger-bus.

On a cold miserable, winters friday night at about 11ish, i was knackered and in foul form but I was the only person waiting at the taxi rank so i cheered myself with thought of being home soon

I had been waiting about 10 minutes when the taxi pulled up.
At exactly the same moment a drunken girly "woo taxi" from the other side of the street. she pulled her harassed boyfriend, dashed across the road and jumped in.

I unpolitely suggested they get out of my taxi but the boyfriend gave me a sheepish grin and said "girls, tsk"
My years of education bubbled forth "go fuck yourself" i spat

so I had resigned myself to a cold wait, when from stage left entered
the hardest looking man i have ever seen. Not big and burly, but short, wirey, scarred and mean, but looking very smart in his luminous green Taxi Marshall coat.

"was that your taxi, Sir" he asked
"yes, it was" i said, sounding like someone being rescued from a mugging by superman.
"taxi driver. Don't pull out" he commanded and the taxi didnt move
"you two out now" he said to the passengers. it had that calm tone that suggested if they didnt there'd be years of orthodontic bills to be paid.

the girl protested loudly but her boyfriend valued his teeth and dragged her out.


I felt like Royalty getting in that taxi. I thanked the Taxi Marshall profusely and went home in a warm glow. laughing last.
( parsley, Fri 4 Feb 2011, 12:47, 2 replies)

I went back to my hometown a couple of years ago - Bumblefuck in the middle of Somerset, for anyone interested.
I visited my old local; a battered old boozer which hasn't been touched since 1972. It's clientelle consists entirely of rural alcoholics drinking enough to numb the pain of their inevitable suicide, and chavs doing cheap recreational drugs while enjoying throwaway racism and ignorance in an attempt to try and impress either the donor of or recepticle for DNA hideously twisted through centuries of in-breeding, that they can enjoy a life of idle, drug-adled, booze-fuelled bliss on one of the local council estates.

"A Vagabond!" cried the barman, "'Ow be an?"

"Grand" said I, "Up in London, now, working ..."

"London ... !" cried a decrepit old barfly through his beard and into his real ale, "My mate went to London once ... "
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Fri 4 Feb 2011, 12:38, 2 replies)

David.
Ok, so this is a long one, kick back, settle in and enjoy the ride.

My parents had been friends with the Bill and Sue since before I was born. As they tell it, My Mum and Sue grew up together, went to the same school as kids, dated the same boys as teens and even got their frist jobs at the same place (not as odd as its sounds, in the 60's half of Essex worked for Fords).

Mum and Sue fell pregnant around the same time even, so Bill and Sue's boy, David, was born just two months before me.

Of course, David and I were destined to be best friends. We had to be, Mum and Sue were, so their children were bound to be.

Except that David turned out to be an odious little snotbag.

And, for one Saturday evening a month, all through my early childhood, when the parents would get together, he made my life hell.

I remember him from those days as a spoilt brat of a bullying child. He'd pinch me, punch me, prod me.

He'd steal my toys and not let me play with his.

He'd spit in my coke and steal my dinner.

He'd rip pages out of my books.

But 'Boys will be boys'

And our enforced 'friendship' remained.

Then school started. It was a small school, so no split classes that would allow me respite. My pencils broken, my work scribbled on. The water pot 'accidentally' spilt on my artwork.

And breaktimes were hell. Tripped playing 'had'. Kicked playing football. I hated school, hated going home because he would be with me, waiting for Sue. No one beieved this devil child existed, he was such sweetness and light when the 'grown ups' were around.

Sneaky, shitbag Dave ruined my infant school for me. I hated him

At least 'big school' would give me a break, surely. Lunchtimes would be awkward, but I couldn't be in the same form, surely? I woudl find space to grow and be my own person, not afraid that every moment he would be there, watching, waiting to hurt me or upset me.


I've never been lucky. First day, the form groups are announced and, of course, me and David, together. The old chums whose parents loved each other so, not kept apart.

So, yes, school was hell. I was ostracised, lonely, ignored at best, taunted and bullied at worst.

I was suicidal at times, I couldn't face the days. School holidays were no better, thanks to the seemingly growing closeness between the families.

We all went on a canal boat together, I fell in and got bollocked for being clumsy because no one saw the push.

We went to the beach and I got bollocked for losing my walkman, but I know David buried it.

I withdrew, I became sullen and unnaproachable. I lost myself in Music and tried to study so i could leave.

It's probably no lie to say The Stone Roses, The Happy Mondays...'Madchester' saved my life.

So when it came to choosing a University, there was only one place for me. I told no one where I planned to go until well after all the forms had been put in. Such was my paranoia that David would follow me.

And then, success! Accepted! I was going to Manchester.

And, as is the way of these things, so was David.

I probably don't need to go into detail about how things panned out. I am sure you can imagine.

So I will recount just one of many, many examples of the continuing hell I went through.

I came out of a History lecture, out of the faculty of arts and onto the concrete steps.

The shy girl who had become my only real friend next to me, me feeling the love and desire that I hadn't ever been confident enough to express.

And then, David...

strolling up like my best friend in the world. Congratulating me on 'coming out' and how brave I had been and how I shouldn't try to deny it anymore, people wouldn't judge me.

I don't know if she would have gone out with me if it wasn't for that or not. But I do know that she never truley believed my protestations that i was straight.

God I hated him.

When we left Uni, I fled. I moved away, rarely going home. I drifted away from my family, how could I not after they had been so blind and oblivious to my hell?

I became estranged.

Only recently, after turning 35, did I start to build bridges.

It's hard though, Sue and Bill are still my parent's closest friends and it brings back to many memories to make things easy.

But the good side is I have found out what became of David, and it makes me so happy to tell you now...



...Oh...'needless to say?'...


...OK, I won't.
( scarpe We Stole Bikes, Fri 4 Feb 2011, 11:58, 21 replies)

Someone made me feel bad when I was a child.
I saw them last year and their whole life was a mess and they told me how their child has eye cancer and their mother died of rapes and other stuff that was disproportionate to being called Shorty greasy spot, spot.

I look forward to when they die so I can go piss on their grave - if they could afford one. HA HA HAAA.

Mind you, they may not have grown up mental and carry a burden of hatred around for decades. ermm...
(waxdart hello., Fri 4 Feb 2011, 11:57, 3 replies)

Going back to my old hometown
And running into one of the band of girls who used to bully me intensely at school for being smart and looking Chinese (they were both unacceptable according to these girls, but being smart was the greater crime apparently).

She came over and said hello, all friendly, and we chatted for a bit. I wasn't nasty to her, but I did feel quite smug when she said, "well, because my boyfriend's unemployed and we have three really young kids all I seem to do is work and change nappies, I can't even leave this bumhole town."

What a change from the teenager who constantly told me I'd amount to nothing and never leave the small town, while she would be propelled to pop stardom and riches.
( cakelady, Fri 4 Feb 2011, 11:30, 5 replies)

Revenge is a dish best served with almonds
Standard prologue about bullying in school, loss of friends and generally awful time.

I wouldn't want to get back at them, mainly because I don't want to let revenge control my life. But sometimes when I'm feeling a bit down, and I'm lying in bed, I enjoy thinking of exactly how; down to the last detail, I would get back at them all.

The last one involved a gigantic version of the mousetrap kit.
(chuckle_h0und You furnish the pictures, I'll furnish the war, Fri 4 Feb 2011, 11:18, 2 replies)

Don't fuck with me.
So, I was happily sitting on my train home, minding my own business, when we got...what's the word? You know when a huge gang just enter the carriage and mug everyone? Steamed? Steam=rollered? Something like that. All I know is there were aroudn 40 of them.

Anyway, I am not one for violence, so I handed over my wallet, thinking that the loss of a few quid and the inconvemience of cancelling a few cards was less of a hassle than risking hospitalisation or death.

Then they turned to the young girl next to me. i could she she was terrified, and I knew I should step in, but as I say, I didn't want to risk hosiptalisation or worse, death, did I?

I realised her parents were sat opposite, but could see they were not able to protect her so I felt the overwhelming pressure to do something...anything...but...

Then they forced my hand.

They made her strip naked. They threatened to rape her. There. On the train. In front of her helpless parents.

That was it, hospitalisation or death it was, because this could not stand.

A few minutes later, 3 dead, 8 hospitalised and one not raped 18 year old.

Don't fuck with a Ghurka.





Wait...maybe I just read this.












www.logiccool.com/blog/591281-lone-nepali-soldier-defends-potential-rape-victim-against-40-men/

(Or Hoogie is alive and well)
( scarpe We Stole Bikes, Fri 4 Feb 2011, 11:17, 13 replies)

when i was much smaller, i was a bit of a weed. one day, aged 12, another girl who was pretty titantic picked me up by my hair and shoved me into a wall. i grew a massive bump on my head and spent the entire afternoon in the nurse's office feeling a bit stunned with an ice pack glued to my head.

of course, i tattled. HAHAHAHA

and i was pretty gleeful about her punishment until i heard some other girls making fun of her on the back of the house. something along the lines of 'charlene's so stupid, she thinks her mum is actually going to visit... she's never getting out of that foster care home HAHAHAHAHA'

brought me back down to earth. sorry for the not funny-ness.
(ladyintheradiator, Fri 4 Feb 2011, 11:16, 4 replies)

No Accords involved
Myself and another car were on the receiving end of some road rage a good few years back with someone who thought that we shouldn't have overtaken a lorry when he was doing a good ton and a bit and made him slow down to the 80ish we were doing. Once he'd blared his horn for long enough and given me plenty of hand gestures and verbal (I was the car at the front so it was obviously my fault) he zoomed off into the distance. The car behind me zoomed off as well and as I wasn't going to get involved in their macho bullshit so I carried on by myself.
About 10 minutes later I saw them both parked on the hard shoulder. As I drove past I wondered if I'd see them having a punch up. I didn't. What I did see was the blue flashing lights on the car that had been tailing me. My smugness level increased for a while and if I'd had any croissants in the car I'd have had one.
(TitanLX, Fri 4 Feb 2011, 10:54, 1 reply)

Lived with a chap and some other friends many years ago...
The tight fucker NEVER bought a round.

I'm still friends with everyone. He's not.

Needless to say, I'm glad I bought a few rounds even if I am probably noticably financially worse off than him.

Every time you avoid getting a round in, God kills an otter. Just get your god damn wallet out k?.
(Pat_Gash, Fri 4 Feb 2011, 10:28, 1 reply)