RedStar.
He's my arch nemesis. Bwah ha ha ha.
( Blue Star was working part time at the 5 and Dime, Thu 29 Apr 2010, 13:35, 1 reply)

Shithead
Was it the fact that Shithead was South African?
Was it that his breath stunk of shit?
Was it that the cnut had a deluded image of self importance that made my toes curl?
Was it his little charlie-chaplinesque scruffy suit with the bottoms all frayed were he dragged his gimpy feet along the floor?
Was it the desire to shoot him in the head with 7.62 round whenever he talked of his martial arts skills?
Was it the fact that the classless cnut thought he was too the manor born?

Surprisingly, it was none of the above, although they didn't help.

It was his inability to hold on to thought concerning anyone but himself for more than 6 seconds. I used to *work* with the cnut and he constantly mixed those of him around him with each other, to the extent that he would tell me things about other peoples life's that were actually about me that I'd told him in confidence.

Before I met him, I used to bound into work, whistling and clicking my heals and having a real glad to be alive day.

This cnut made me want to hide under the covers everyday. When I saw his stupid, thin lipped, freckly face, I felt sick. Sick of my life and sick of his. I developed red mist. I was filled with hate directly in proportion to his stupidity. I wanted him dead. Painfully.

The closest I cam was when a lad in the office had plumbed his own air con unit through the office ceiling. It had started leaking, and I could see water slowly dripping near shithead. I was hoping for electrocution, but was filled with great joy when I watched the ceiling start to bow, more and more, until the whole lot collapsed on shithead.

Shame it was only water and not piss.
( Piper Alpha is being a grumpy northerm bastard on:, Thu 29 Apr 2010, 13:34, Reply)

[From 2007]
I Do a Performance course at University, and there's this one girl who is possibly the laziest little bugger on the planet. She never pays attention in class, nor does she do any of the work. One time, we had to do a summative assessment of a play that we had all seen. We all worked hard; except this one girl.

So, it's 3am the night before we have to hand in this essay. Lazy Girl rings the doorbell of my flat, waking everybody up. She's stark drunk. She knocks on my bedroom door, and confesses that she's screwed for the following day. She wants to know if she can get my help. I look at the situation: she's desperate, teary and seems genuinely at the end of her tether. So, I decide to be the good samaritan and lend her some notes I made. She's grateful, then she leaves to write up an essay.

Fuck that.

The following day, she's back to being a lazy bitch and doesn't even seem grateful for what I did. Not only this, but when we get out marks back, she yells at me for giving her rubbish notes. [What the stupid idiot did was copy the notes up WORD FOR WORD, so she ended up handing in bulletins and abbreviations.]

Not really appreciating this, I decided I would have my revenge.

Next time an essay was due in, I composed a series of fake notes about the play that we'd seen; especially a series of paragraphs I wrote about a fake characters I had invented called Richard Stockwell, and how 'his performance in the play showed arrogance and evident small masculinity".

The night before the essay came. Lazy Bitch pulled the exact same stunt. I gave her my notes, and told her to write them into an essay this time to prevent what happened last time. She agrees. She writes the essay the day before handing it in, hands in in, and goes back to being an ungrateful bitch.

Oh, did I mention that our course lecturer was called Richard Stockwell? Oh, I'm pretty sure I did.

She's not on the course anymore.
(__, Thu 29 Apr 2010, 13:32, 4 replies)

PM from a previous contract
who unfortunately seems to turn up like a bad penny every time there's any work from a particular vendor - and has also torpedoed some commercial agreements at the 11th hour.

Really quite a despicable little smegma smear of a man who is quite happy to go without what he needs simply out of spite.

Some day I will cunt him right in the fuck.
(mymilkshakebringsallthemongstotheyard poison hearts, poison minds - joining hate, Thu 29 Apr 2010, 13:29, Reply)

Honestly, it's not my fault
I live on a croak estate. Most of the people are over 60, so my wife and me are seen a bit as the youngsters in the street.

My neighbours, being at home all day with nothing to do, often fabricate reasons to complain or at best comment on. Albert (the knob) has already been mentioned. When I got fed up with his "leaves from your tree are falling in my garden"-type moans I put this nice apex piece on the side of my brick shed facing his garden;

4.bp.blogspot.com/_T27jvCPoJf4/SkN76kUgoTI/AAAAAAAAb1E/P8i7Gz0FHL0/s1600-h/SHED_P1010682_crop.JPG

It's massive, and he still hasn't noticed after nearly a year.

My real nemesis though is the old fart from 2 doors down. He and his wife have always been quite abusive (the neighbour between us left ecause of them).

For some reason they started to accuse me of having stolen their cat, just because they can't always find it. I usually laugh at them, but the last time I was out washing the car and he came up to me with a 10 minute tirade of abuse and shouting. I laughed a fair bit at first, especially at the "I'll fucking do you" coming from a fat 71 year-old to a fairly fit 44 year old with 38 years of karate training.

Eventually I told him to piss off, then went inside and rang the police to report him. Result! 2 hobby-bobbies turned up, and took my statement. They even asked if he had mental illness problems (how impartial is that?).

They went to see him the next day, them came back to me some time later. He's been given an ASBO essentially, and told to keep away.

He's still a nemesis, but now I can go past his house with a wry grin, meowing, and watch him stomp off indoors like a loon.

I was thinking of putting up one of the "Cat found - tasted like chicken" posters. Any other ideas??
(Kliper Filllets Getting noticed by twats on the internet since, Thu 29 Apr 2010, 13:28, 8 replies)

There was this kid who bullied me at school
He was a right tosser, too. Never washed or anything- you could smell his socks a mile away- and always wore the same bloody clothes. He used to hang around outside the school with a mangy dog that he never even bothered to put on a lead, and wait for me to appear. And then the abuse would start- if the dog didn't get me, then the words always did. He'd call us names, like "softies", apparently because we weren't an ASBO menace to society like him...

I tell ya, I was always relieved when his dad yelled "DENNIIIIIIIS!"
(Sivvus trolley collision in the fruit aisle led to a jam, Thu 29 Apr 2010, 13:18, 5 replies)

not me but..
Mrs Nimrodihnio, grew up Penarth,South Wales (there's posh!).
when she was about 9 they moved from Cogan to a slighty 'nicer' part of the town and she moved school too.
A week or so after she moved in she invited her new friend from school, Andrea Jones (name changed), for tea. Naturally the house was not as spick and span as you would expect, but livable.
All went well with the visit but over the next few days at school she felt left out by her new class mates. Finally someones told her that Andrea had announced to the whole class 'that Stephanie, she lives in a dirty house'.
31 years later it still has the power to drive her in a low level of rage and curse the uberbitch Andrea. All through school she harboured a bubbling resentment against her and has subsequently delighted in the misfortune that Andrea has suffered.
All I have to do is menton it in passing and I still get at least 5 minutes of what she did, what a 'jumped up cow she is' how big her fat arse is, 'she's thinks she's posh but her dad worked for the council' and 'no wonder her husband was shagging around'.
The feedback to 'move on' has not been taken.
(nimrodihnio making gravy for one., Thu 29 Apr 2010, 13:18, Reply)

A righteous infliction of retribution manifested by an appropriate agent. Personified in this case by an 'orrible cunt... me.

(TheManWithThePlan cussed your mum on, Thu 29 Apr 2010, 13:17, 3 replies)

I reckon there'll be loads about teachers
When I was seven I got detention for "sneezing too loudly".

My teacher was apparently very sensitive about the fact that she couldn't sneeze quietly, and thought I was taking the piss.

My mum came in half way through the detention and very quietly told her that I could sneeze any way I fucking liked.
(Sivvus trolley collision in the fruit aisle led to a jam, Thu 29 Apr 2010, 13:08, 2 replies)

Boglin
Boglin (not real name obviously) was in the year above me at school and for some reason took a big dislike to me. Although his red fury (he was as ginger as Basil Brush’s copper ring-piece) never manifested into physical violence, aside from the occasional shoulder barge, he did like to stare me down in the school corridor an awful lot.

If I were to place my now self into the slightly portly frame of my then 15 year-old self, I’d love to kick him in his golden-red balls.
(Deskbound You insignificant speck of dust, Thu 29 Apr 2010, 13:04, 3 replies)

"YOU STOLE MY GIRLFRIEND!"
An unforgivable crime when you're eighteen and truly heartbroken for the first time.

So I told the whole town that the thief in question had herpes on her bumhole. A true fact, as it turns out, as many mutual acquaintances have since told me. I don't even want to think about how it got there.

Three years later and she still tries to punch me in the face whenever she sees me. Usually a friend or bouncer intervenes, thank goodness...
(jothemofo, Thu 29 Apr 2010, 13:04, 5 replies)

Bitch teachers and cunty managers
An English teacher in year 4 slammed me with a 5-minute detention because she thought I wasn't listening. She didn't think an 8 year-old could take notes and listen simultaneously. When I protested that I had been listening, she immediately gave me another detention. Bitch. If I met her again I'd still happily slap her.

In response to the question post, dinner ladies are just evil. I had one yell at me for eating my chocolate biscuit before my sandwiches. And this was a packed lunch, not a school dinner. You got no jurisdiction over the contents of my lunchbox, you scrotum-faced old harpy. I don't think I'd slap her but I'd happily fart on her hair. She was a wrinkly old harridan then, so she's probably dead now. Ha.

Those two were annoying, but I think they just hated children in general. A proper nemesis should have it in for you personally.
I had an evil floating manager at my last job. He was a cuntmuffin in general, but he seemed to be most at loggerheads with me. (I was later to learn that he hated women in general, and he happened to be a bit of a racist to boot.) After the first day of working with him I had trouble sleeping and I felt so anxious about returning to work the next day. He was so aggressive and shouty right from the get-go, and he called one of my cow-irkers a "fucking muppet" in front of customers. (Never discipline staff in front of customers; that's a management no-no. And calling an underling a fucking muppet isn't on anyway, unless they pissed on your shoes or something.)
He was constantly deriding our workplace as a 'shithole' even though it was tidier than the Moss Bros around the corner. Eventually he got into an argument with me over something stupid (I turned the music down because it was so loud I couldn't hear the door alarm if it went off, and customers and I were having trouble hearing each other, and he took umbrage to that because he was the one who'd turned it up so high and as he said, "I'm the boss and I know what I'm doing so we have to do things my way"), and he was so rude to me he made me cry. I thought 'fuck this, this isn't worth minimum wage', gathered my things, and walked out. He tried to block my exit, so I screamed and made an exhibition of myself until he relented. He said "What is your problem?" to which I replied, "You're my problem, you obnoxious little turd" and left.
I got to keep my job, and my manager advised me to just be happy I got away with it and not stir shit up. Fuck that. I wrote a letter to the area manager, who interviewed me about it. When he'd got my side of the story, floating git-manager got an official warning. Ha. I just regret not punching him when I had the chance. I'd've lost the job, but our unit ceased trading a couple of months afterwards anyway.
( Bob Todd whee, Thu 29 Apr 2010, 12:59, 2 replies)

Sibling Feud
So this has been going on for a few years. Everyone has fights with their siblings, right? Well my brother and I have been exchanging blows for years- and by blows, I mean broken bones. Strangely enough they're all accidents, but my mum now believes that there must be SOMETHING going on...

When I was little my stepdad taught me and my brother some basic self defence, including arm-locks. While practicing one of these I accidentally dislocated my brother's thumb. Not to be deterred, about two weeks after this he knocked me off my bike and broke my nose. That seemed to even out the issue somewhat...

I'd swerved to a stop at the bottom of a hill to apologise to some daft bints, who thought the road was an extension of the promenade, and were walking their kids in their pushchairs right along the middle of it. As they're screaming at me, there's a cry of, "I can't find the braaaaaaakeeeess!" My brother hurtles down the hill at several million miles per hour and slams into the side of the bike, folding it in half like a paper plane and sending me flying.

Anyway, things seemed to have evened up until a few years ago, when we were on the beach with some friends during the air show (which means the only place you can walk is actually in the sea, there are so many people.) My brother starts a water fight, and then decides to pick me up and throw me into the deep water. He hasn't counted on the fact that I weigh more than your average buffalo, although he claims he "stepped on a jellyfish". Whatever the reason, he dropped me and fell over... and I fell straight onto his leg.

I think he's ok, just a sprained ankle or something, since he's still breathing. So I continue playing with my friends, thinking that if it is sprained, the cold sea water will sort it out. My brother sits up to his chest in sea water. The tide starts coming in....

Suddenly, a tourist wades into the water and drags him out. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" He yells, "Can't you see what colour he's gone?"

We look. My brother's normally pale skin is a rather nice shade of green, complimenting his red afro. He seems alright apart from that, though... his girlfriend has him in her lap, and he's not drowning any more... and we have to meet someone at the other side of town. So we say g'bye and leave him there.

Apparently, he had to be airlifted off the beach, as there was no way to get a car down or anything. His leg was broken, and he spent the summer playing on his gamecube.

I'm still waiting for his revenge.
(Sivvus trolley collision in the fruit aisle led to a jam, Thu 29 Apr 2010, 12:59, Reply)

Like two gerbils in a bag fighting over the last chipolata
The cyclist who always seems to be on the same stretch of Wandsworth Road with me every morning. I'm a quick cyclist but he's a similar speed and he seems to love overtaking me and then climbing out of his saddle to peddle. Unfortunately he has a 1980s pair of quite threadbare red cycling shorts and it leaves little to the imagination.

Not exactly ruined my life but certainly had an effect on my breakfast most mornings.
(bigjonnydynamite, Thu 29 Apr 2010, 12:59, Reply)

My body
It stops sexy ladies sexing me and keeps breaking which causes me pain
(NuffMuff fucks shrubbery, Thu 29 Apr 2010, 12:55, Reply)

I highly maintain that PDF files are my arch nemesis. They always have been and always will, damn them!
However there are two other nemesis that are wrecking my life. The first, migraines. Me head takes it upon itself to set world records of thumping horrdiness every single week. One of these days I will be found with a huge smile upon my face and my head lying smashed against a wall. Yes, I have medication but it shall not be defeated!

The second, The Safe Place. The Safe Place is an unknown vortex that swirls about unseen in my life sooking in everything I put away in a safe place so it won't get lost. My sunglasses, for example, were sat down safely on the dining room table and turned up two years later in my brother's bedroom. There are many many things I have lost to The Safe Place and I now try and sit things in only mildly safe places.

My main worry is that when I finally conk it, having smashed my head against the wall in glee of course, The Safe Place will see its victory and happily spew out everything I've lost all over my mourning family, showering them in pants, socks, my other pink shoe, pencils, cds, books, uni work, my one set of chalk pastels and more. They will return home covered in my lost items to find my laptop happily loading every single PDF file I ever struggled with.
( vix0r was not Matthew on, Thu 29 Apr 2010, 12:46, 8 replies)

Dr Eggman
Who is this? He came out of the blue sporting the worst Evil genius moniker i have ever heard.
Weeks were wasted of my childhood trying to defeat this half-assed freak.
Bring back Dr Robotnik. The people demand the Doctor!!

Damn i miss his mustache.
(vv STONED vv is also my Xbox live gamertag, Thu 29 Apr 2010, 12:41, 4 replies)

Arch-Nemesis? I'm an arse, I have two of them.
Stifle your laughter, I make no secret that one of my hobbies is that I am involved professional wrestling.

It doesn't come up in polite convosation much, but one question that is asked a lot is "is it fake". My answer to this is no, although the results are scripted and punches are (occassionally) pulled. It hurts, it hurts a lot.

I kinda fell into it with somebody I thought was a friend (John - not his real name) at the time. I am a tubby bastard, and as a result needed to shift some weight. We had an agreement that this guy was to help give me some circuit training (he'd train people for 3 hours, hour 1 would be a circuit training & generally getting fit), and in return I'd help out with the website, running the shows. I had no intention of actually fighting, or even being in front of an audience, but I persued it as I was beginning to get fit.

However, in doing so, John was slowly beginning to eat away at me, systematic bullying of me & a few other people I know. Nothing scary, but making me feel about 2 feet tall. This culiminated in a day whereby John announced that, despite having no actual wrestling training, he was short of a wrestler to fight this guy (Chris - not his real name) coming in to help out his shows. And he was going to set him on me to teach me a lesson. The match to John's sick delight became a handicap match, with Chris bringing Eddy (again, not his real name), both of whom would be facing me.

I'd never met John & Eddy, but from a third source he was trained in a very "old school" way of thinking. It's rarely easy, and often people were legitimately beaten up to toughen them up. I was completely out of my depth and didn't want all this, all I wanted was to get fit. I didn't want to be beaten up for free in front of about 30 people. John stated over and over again that he was glad that I was going to be "fucked up" by this wrestler. Lovely piece of work.

One of my main problems is that I am too loyal probably for my own good, and I arrived at the show crying my eyes out, where things changed immediately.

I wasn't on the show. Neither was Chris & Eddy, who showed up in the crowd, and left after 2 or 3 matches.

I found out exactly what happened - Eddy had heard about what was going on (news travels fast) and walked out refusing to be put on the shows that John put on. Instead him and Chris was going to put on his own shows - and wanted me to be a part of it. I was invited out on the piss with them (always a bonus) and that's where they spelled out what they wanted me for - a web designer first, in exchange for getting fit, and then when confident they'd put me at some capacity on shows, paid for.

It was like a breath of fresh air, I'm still a tubby bastard, but I feel a lot fitter - thanks to these guys, confidence in my abilities have improved. So much so that I went from being a web designer, to an announcer, to a referee, and finally a manager. A manager who's two arch nemesis were Chris & Eddy. Eddy retired in January of this year, leaving just me & whoever I'm managing to feud with Chris.

This coming Sunday, I have agreed to step in the ring with this Chris, to settle a year long feud that we have been running together in shows for the past year. Tickets are selling like hot cakes to the delight of us all. I do know the outcome yes, and I know that I'm probably going to be very sore & have a few bruises, but I am happy that in 2 years of knowing both Chris & Eddy, that they would never ever make me do something that I don't agree to.

So yes, to you all, me, Chris & Eddy are arch nemesis, but really, Chris and Eddy are two of my closest friends.
(rhyswynne - on every social network mullarkey known to man, Thu 29 Apr 2010, 12:39, Reply)

Chris
When I first finished school, in the long summer before going off to Uni, my mates and I used to frequent a local pub.

One of the guys behind the bar, Chris, used to ID every single one of us every time we we went in to buy a drink. Now, we were a bunch of young lads so this would have been perfectly reasonable except for the following:

- We were in there most days.
- He knew us all by name (on many occasions, the conversation would go something like 'Can I see your ID please Snowy')
- Oh yeah, and we had actually been at school with him...

I could even have understood if it was some sort of private joke, but he didn't seem to get any amusement from it and nor did we. He was just being a jobsworth...

It finally culminated in him refusing to serve us because one lad didn't have any ID on him one day. We complained that this was ridiculous, and he promptly barred all of us.

A couple of weeks later he was sacked after they found out he had his hand in the till. Good.
(SnowyTheWereRabbit the Leporid from Hell, Thu 29 Apr 2010, 12:37, Reply)

evil
Just about any boss I've worked for I've resented and loathed
(bluehamster, Thu 29 Apr 2010, 12:34, Reply)

My teacher lost my test sheet ...
...three times. Each time she claimed I didn't hand it in, only to find it on her desk at home. I don't know if she was particularly infatuated with me, and wanted to keep my test near her bed or something, but she sure did keep me on my toes.
Then there was that time when she had a mild nervous break down in front of our class, shouting at me in particular that she was only 30 years old, and I had already destroyed her entire life. Well done me.
Eventually she moved, because she thought the pupils in her new town should be so much more sensible than we were.
( BringYourOwnParachute Meet me here on, Thu 29 Apr 2010, 12:34, 1 reply)

Zippy from rainbow. As a small child he terrified me and gave me rediculous and bizarre nightmares. I eventually plucked up the courage to hack him to puppet-death when I was 3, in an even weirder dream.
(Raging Tranny... Best Before:, Thu 29 Apr 2010, 12:29, Reply)

The devil himself is my arch nemesis.
But I'll have him.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Thu 29 Apr 2010, 12:26, Reply)

Jerry Sadowitz has God as his nemesis
"I hate God for two reasons: (1) not existing and (2) managing to fuck my life up anyway."
( Amish Information Systems hates misplaced, commas, Thu 29 Apr 2010, 12:25, 3 replies)

You have, B3ta, you have.*
Pressurising me into reading purile/hilarious (delete as experienced) posts, preventing me from working, luring me into your fold.
Then on a Saturday when I still have to work you all bugger off and leave me bereft.
There is no methadrone equivilent for my problem, so I ask in all humbleness, please keep it alive on a Saturday, there are still people sadly without a hangover, who still need a fix.


*May not have actually ruined my life, probably improved it.
( Blind Meach Cautiously optimistic, Thu 29 Apr 2010, 12:17, Reply)

Twunts who hijack threads with firsts, seconds and thirds.
Other than them.

I don't know. I have to say THAT SMARMY WANKER (which, obviously, isn't his real name). I don't actually know what it was about this git that I didn't like. He was perfectly friendly, blended well into every social group and told witty anecdotes in the SU bar. There was no reason for me not to like him, but alas, there was simply something about his "way" that disagreed with me. Perhaps we were too similar, maybe it was the shower gel he used, I couldn't honestly say, but since coming into this Arschlock stuff went relatively tits up. Stuff went badly wrong at home, my brother ran away, everything in my meticulously well built house of cards went tumbling down. I'm under the impression that he did it through some kind of voodoo incantation. I don't know. Yes, it wasn't his fault, but I want to be irrational and blame him for it. He's just one of those gits that are almost too good to be true. So yeah. I suppose he's a pretty good arch-nemesis.
(spiderslut, Thu 29 Apr 2010, 12:14, Reply)

My nemisis
Those who get "first" ahead of me :0
(McChinaman banned, Thu 29 Apr 2010, 12:06, Reply)

Third
My current nemesis is a woman at the gym. When I go, I always go in the early morning- leave home at 6.30am and get there for 6.45am. And without fail the same woman is there, or will come in five minutes after I start changing. The reason I'm going to the gym in the first place is I want to lose a few pounds, so I'm not really happy about changing in front of people as it is. Intellectually I know I'm not obese but other people watching me change makes me feel overweight and unselfconfident. Most of the time this isn't a problem- all the other women are exactly the same no matter how thin they are, get changed with eyes down and as fast as they can. Except for this oldish lady- probably late fifties. Really really thin. Not an attractive taut kind of slimness but a saggy skin kind of slimness. It's bad enough that she walks around the changing room naked apart from her socks, but always, always she says something to me about the weather or whatever and automatically I look up. When I go on the crosstrainer she picks the one next to me, and usually manages to arrange it so she finishes about the same time as me as well.

I've tried swapping my times, but the early morning is the most convenient, since I'm busy during the day and too tired at night. So there you go.- My gym nemesis
( Amberl was stripey and dominated Europe, Thu 29 Apr 2010, 12:03, 8 replies)

Second
I thought my life had been wrecked when the woman I'd been seriously flirting with, and was about to get from me a good seeing to, decided to ignore me all of a sudden and go off and shag someone else.

Once I'd got over the rejection, I realised that actually she'd done me a favour because (with the benefit of the big head now doing the thinking, rather than the small head) it turns out she's a pain in the arse.

Yeah, it's a shite story, but it's second.
( K2k6 has a proper job these days, Thu 29 Apr 2010, 12:03, 1 reply)

My Upstairs Neighbour
Is a complete Belm.

About 6 months ago he split from his missus and she moved out.
Ever since then he's taken to making lots of noise at night and it's driving us a bit mad. He likes to start his music (Weezer ffs) at midnight on a school day and ignores us when we ring his doorbell to complain. A few times he's actually woken us up at 5am shouting and swearing at no-one in particular. Probably an online game or something.

I have started to fantasise about petty revenge and so in my head he's been built up from an annoying Bellend to a nuisance of staggering proportions who is deliberately picking on me for fun. I know noisy neighbours has bindun but has anyone any advice to share?

What immature mischief can I inflict upon My Nemesis without fear of recrimination?
( TheFinch is getting to grips with the complex plane on, Thu 29 Apr 2010, 12:03, 15 replies)