World Heritage cock...
Back in the 80's there was a bit of a storm, blew a few trees down and stuff like that, one tree in particular dropping a branch on a little old ladies wall in her back garden that just so happens to be next to that lovely tourist attraction the Royal Crescent in Bath. Fast forward a couple of years and a 16 year old me and my boss at the time are fixing said wall and making some alterations so she could get her mobility scooter in and out (she told me she used to be a rally driver, and judging by the way she tore up Vicky Park that day I'm inclined believe her).

Being a lovely day in summer, and being a scruffy teen labourer I wasn't too fussed about wearing my trousers where there was a bit of a hole in the crotch. It let a bit of air in and helped keep things cool, and really wasn't that big...

Come lunchtime, and I went out back to lean against the wall and soak up the sun which was ace, watch all the tourists stroll by and dream of how many records I could by with the cash. Strangely though, the tourists were all acting a bit weird, some looking slightly offended by my scruffy self and some even taking pictures; not as if I was lowering the tone that much, and they could still get a good picture of the crescent without me in it if they just went round the corner, moody gits.

Half an hour later, I'm thinking it's time to go back to work, bend down to pick up my rubbish and ! I'm presented with my cock quite contentedly enjoying the sunshine just as much as me! My favourite boxers at the time, yes, the ones with holes in that you should throw away but don't because you like them, had colluded with the larger-than-I-remembered-it hole in my jeans and were teaching me a lesson in why blokes favourite clothing shouldn't be held on to for too long.

Surprised the tourists, hell, it surprised me! Had to endure a very self conscious afternoon of work too, especially as mini me seemed to have developed a taste for the fresh air.

I now throw my clothes away when they have holes in...
( Jimbuktu See? Right here, Sun 31 May 2009, 15:30, Reply)

"The Box" or, how I learned to stop worrying and love my penis
Thankfully, most of the nudity in my life has been pre-planned and, in some cases, as a joyous result of many months of hard work. Well, all apart from one year where any party, pub vist, barbeque or bored afternoon in front of the television seemed to end up with an episode of streaking but thats a much less interesting story than it sounds.

Anyway, The Box.

My encounter with the box, and its contents was a brief one, never to be repreated and never to be forgotten. I had spent the past 5 years of my life in an all boys school and was some months away from successfully negotiating the mine field of a mixed-sex sixth form to provide my peers with affirmation that I was not, by default, a raging gay. As a result, the source of many of my encounters with the opposite sex stemmed from joining an internet forum, much like this fine community, dedicated to the now sadly deceased easyworld. As a result of shit-awful record company backing, easyworld were perpetually touring and this provided a number of opportunities for meet-ups. So, on one tour, the Liverpool date comes up and me and my partner in crime are due to be meeting up with a couple of girls we'd met at easyworld gigs over the course of the summer during the day before heading off to the gig.

Being sixteen, skint and possessed with the social imagination of... well, skint sixteen year boys, we were at a bit of a loss for what to do on our way up to Lime Street Station to meet the girls off the train.

Then we saw the box.

The box was a large wooden frame, clad in sheets of perspex, set up in the courtyard of the Bluecoat Arts gallery (for anyone who knows Liverpool) and gave no clue as to its purpse other than a sign promising that it would play host to an episode of 'performance art' by two gentlemen of oriental extraction later on in the afternoon. With no other options, we added this to our non-existent itinerary and continued on our way to the train station.

Roll on a few hours and we've taken up front row seats in front of the box which is now beginning to look like some sort of self-service buffet. Bottles upon bottles of condiments, liquids and pretty much anything that could feasily come in a tube were being placed into the corners of the box.

Soon enough, the performers came along, all respectably turned out and looking more like a pair of businessmen than a pair of performance artists. A short bow to the audience and one another and we were away. Wielding sauces like shotguns and bottles like bazookas, these previously respectable gentlemen began covering themselves, the floor and the walls in all manner of condiment. Within minutes, they looked like a foodfight in the heinz factory and were proceeding to remove items of clothing. Off came jacket and tie, shirt and trousers until both were wearing just a vest and boxers. At this point, a slow realisation was dawning across the crowd (bear in mind that this was an saturday afternoon about a week before the end of the school holidays) that this was not the final state of undress to be attained by our entertainers. Sure enough, away were the boxers and vest and we were confronted, bollocks and all, by a pair of gentlemen engaging in about of nude sumo wrestling in what looked like the leftovers of a paintshop bukkake night.

Despite all this, the prevailing thought going through my head was not one of digust, nor horror at the fact that we now appeared to our guests to be afficionados of naked paint wrestling. No, my thoughts at the time

"Phew, thank god my cock is bigger than that"

Length? Ain't no mighty oaks growing from those acorns, lets put it that way...
(Deltasound, Sun 31 May 2009, 13:53, 1 reply)

Walking down the street..
About ten years ago is a woman in front of me when God provides a gust and up went her skirt.
Beautiful arse, no knickers.
Thank you God
( difficultchild, Sun 31 May 2009, 13:22, 2 replies)

what a right tit
Not too much nudity, but deffo unexpected! When I was 18, I was teaching my younger brother to dive in our local swimming baths. I would dive in, then get out and show him how to stand, etc, then watch while he did it. After diving this one time, I got out of the pool and walked around to where my brother was sitting on the side, but noticed some of the lads were giggling and looking away when I passed. "Stupid b*****ds", I said to myself, then my brother jumped in the water as I approached him, pissing himself laughing. Just then the attendant came up to me and said 'ere what are you trying to do? cheer us all up?' - he pointed to my chest, and I nearly died with embarassment! My bikini top was around my neck and my young pert boobies were staring at everyone! I jumped in the water myself, and hit my brother for not telling me!
(BlackMagicWoman, Sun 31 May 2009, 12:42, Reply)

for my dear friend misskitty
re: www.b3ta.com/questions/unexpectednudity/post435054

Mrs Spimf can’t do drugs. Not at all. She’s tried coke a few times and it always went like this...

"Want some of this coke baby?"

"No I cant, I cant, I really cant"

"Sure?"

"Well maybe just a wee bit"

Snnnnnnnnnnnnnnort!

FFW 6 hours... and we have a raging Hoover nosed maniac with one eye going to the shops and the other one coming back with the change - demanding more sex, coke,porn,sex,coke,porn - you get the picture. She even got so off her face on a bottle of poppers at Tin the park she had to be carried a good mile or so back to the bloody tent. But that's just the preamble...

A good few years back we went to a really nice hotel in a wee fishing village in Scotland - Portpatrick to be precise. With some time to kill before dinner, lolling around in our room, I decide to roll a joint.

"Want to try some hash babes"

"No I can't smoke"

"You can eat it though"

"Hmmm? Ok - not much though!"

A small piece of hash the size of a pea is consumed then we took the dogs for a walk along the beach. Drugs? No effect. An hour later there we are in the rather posh hotel bar, Mrs Spimf in a LBD looking leggy, demure and pretty damn hot.

"Would you like a drink before dinner darling”?

"Yes, sherry please"

Now I don’t know what sort of fucked up constitution my Mrs has but it would seem a tiny speck of cannabis can lie dormant in her tumblyboos until one small sherry is sloshed down there, then it begins...

Giggling - fair enough
Talking Pish - fair enough
Sudden loss of short term memory resulting is said pish being repeated on loop - fair enough
Attempt to get off bar stool and go to the loo resulting in KO style collapse in the middle of the room - erm no.

To make matters even better she had landed smack on the floor at the owner’s feet who was chatting with her daughter. Soon revived and seemingly now ok (ish) while rubbing a slight bump on her head, Mrs Spimf (brilliantly) explains to the hotel owner she might have had an adverse reaction to some prescription medicine. Owner promptly offers to call a doctor; she even offered to act as a witness in the lawsuit she had conjured from nowhere that was going to 'ruin' the 'idiot' doctor that would prescribe such powerful drugs without proper warning. Suddenly Mrs Spimf is fine and dandy again so we decide to proceed with dinner. She's now hungry - celle surprise! A sip of wine and a nibble at her starter and she’s off again. Talking pish, swaying about, stuck on a Groundhog Day loop - the lot!

Tits.

Quietly, I ask the waiter if he could sent the rest of the food up to the room and try to make as dignified an exit as one can with Ken Fucking Dodd in a cocktail dress waving and belming to a room full of bemused diners. So there we are back in the room - immediately Mrs Spimf strips naked. No idea why, the only thing I was intending eating at that point was my bloody steak, which was supposedly on its way up.

Knock knock - "room service"

"Come in" coos my idiot bloody wife, naked as a Tory MP in a boys dormitory.

The poor bloke trundles in with a splendid tray of delights, complete with comedy silver dome things on them. Give him his due he barely batted an eyelid as I hastily tried to cover my mad as a bat butt naked wife. He left with a smirk and large tip. After ten minutes of watching my wife struggling to use cutlery (she seemed to be knitting and imaginary scarf from invisible wool) I suggested at that point she might well be better in bed. So in she pops.

Thank. Fuck! Peace at last. Just as I finish my steak the convulsions start. Yes fucking convulsions.

Su-fucking-perb.

So there she is: Portpatrick's answer to Jon Belushi writhing around in bed like Linda Blair's epileptic understudy. After some 'discussion' Mrs Spimf decides it is in fact...

"Nothing to do with the drugs - it must have been when I hit my head"

She then panics - decides she has a 'brain clot' from her tumble earlier (I had a few choice words on that one). Nevertheless Mrs Spimf demands a doctor be summoned.

"Head injuries must be investigated!"

So there I am - no choice. I called the owner and asked if she could discreetly request a local doctor give us a quick call just to reassure my idiot wife she is not destined to spend the remainder of her days communicating with one eyebrow. Ten minutes later an ambulance with full blues and twos rocks up.

Fuck.

All too soon the paramedics enter the room, along with the bloody owner and her daughter as well for good measure. After I managed to tactfully ask them to get the fuck out I had a quite word with the paramedic.

"Don’t think its the bump to the head mate" (looks around conspiratorially) "she's actually eaten a little bit of cannabis"

Paramedic looks confused,

"How much"

"Erm maybe enough for two fairly miserly joints"

Paramedic scratches head.

"What’s she doing eating it - your supposed to smoke it, at least that's what I do (winks), having said that if she's had a bump to the head we should maybe take her in for observation"

Tits.

So they go to lift the pale and shaking Mrs Spimf out of bed

"Wait!"

"She’s naked"

"Oh right, fine where are her clothes"

I gather up the frilly black undies, stockings heels and LBD and realise the chances of getting her dressed without more drama were, to even the most optimistic observer, bugger all.

"Fuck it, wrap her up in the duvet, I’ll take the clothes with me"

And so they did. Then popped her on a little chair with wheels affair and lifted her up....

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" cries my lunatic wife - "I'M SCARED OF HEIGHTS!!!!"

"Erm your only about 6 inches off the floor love"

"OH? ...Well it felt a lot higher"

*faceplams*

So we process through the hotel lobby - the entire staff and guests it would seem had now lined up to see the drama unfolding with 'my lovely wife' now back on a high waving like a mong on a day trip to a window factory.

Kill me now, please God - end this now.

So we sat in the ambulance - it was at least 40 minutes to the nearest A&E. Mrs Spimf cracking jokes all the way. Me sitting there with a face like thunder. They treated Mrs Spimf and I like we had been up all night smearing methadone on a baby, grilled me on what she had 'actually taken' then eventually they let us home at around 3 am. The taxi back to the hotel cost about 50 quid - about 15 years ago.

I don't allow my wife drugs anymore. Muppet.
( spimf ™ is whoever you want him to be, Sun 31 May 2009, 12:34, 24 replies)

I read the question wrong, sir...
Having dated a rugby player I am now immune to the sight of the male form in all its last-turkey-in-the-shop glory, having seen shedloads of his mates in various states of undress as they wave their stuff around in the strangely homo way that only rugger buggers seem to manage. At least footballers enjoy a good spitroast, rugby boys seem to just like to look. Whatever floats their funny shaped balls, I suppose.
( Sallyrsm, Sun 31 May 2009, 9:32, Reply)

Do animals count?
I was helping my Dad on his farm last week. Dad was checking the sheep for ticks and lice, and generally showing me what to look out for.

Suddenly and without warning, he started singing a catchy little tune to himself. I can't remember the exact lyrics, but it went something along the lines of:


"I'm done shearing all my sheep,
I've castrated the head ram,
So, the healthiest I'll keep,
for tonight’s roast dinner - lamb"

(Chorus - all)
"la la la la la"

'Well - THAT came from nowhere!' I commented.

'Yes' he said

... 'It was an "unexpected Ewe ditty" '
(fatboybubba, Sun 31 May 2009, 9:13, Reply)

I'm the one naked in all my nudity stories.....
But here's a first. I was camping with friends, on bank holiday weekend, at a site behind a pub in Wiltshire. We stayed up late drinking, as did a wedding party at the pub we were behind. Once it got dark, I thought to myself "I bet you could walk naked to the toilet and back, and despite the fact it's as busy as Glastonbury at night, nobody would notice". Anyway, later we went to bed, and at about 2 am, I woke to hear the rain on our tent. I was naked in bed, and the combination of the faff of dressing in the dark in a small tent, coupled with my clothes then getting wet persuaded me to test my theory.

So, naked I emerged from my tent, and padded through the assembled camp toward the pub. I was threading my way between tents where people were still sitting out, and between people walking too and fro, and indeed, nobody noticed that I was undressed. Even as I walked fairly close past the two large tables of people still celebrating the wedding outside the pub, I seemed invisible. Then just as I approached the toilet door, disaster, or rather lightning, struck. The entire area was lit up like day as I was 3 steps from the loo. I struck out and got in there, feeling a mix of relief that I seemed to have made is safely, and concern that, of course, the loo was electric lit, and anyone in there would be in NO doubt of my nakedness. Luckily, nobody WAS there, so I used the loo and emerged, pleased with my lucky escape.

However, as I came out, the two tables of people (perhaps 30 in all) burst into rapturous applause, which only got bigger when another lightning strike lit me up like day! All I could do was wave splendidly, and continue on my way, enoying the applause.
(Sammyhaswoefullyneglectedyou, Sun 31 May 2009, 1:28, 1 reply)

stupid flasher
I was flashed once when I was 14.

This guy can't have been quite right in the head as I'd seen him a few times earlier that same day nipping to the shop and a friend's place without incident. He decided to flash me when I was out with my dog.

I say "dog", Jack was the size of a small horse. He was also daft as a brush and seemed convinced that he was in fact a very small dog. He was also generally quite friendly (although he used to smile at people in a way that really creeped them out) so what he did surprised me in many ways.

He started to growl at this strange man waving his cock at me and pulling on his leash so I was really struggling to keep a hold of him. Some people might have just let him go and if I'm honest I did consider it, but at the time I had no idea what the consequences might be if Jack were to maul him and didn't really want to find out.

By this point, the bloke is rather scared and Jack is barking at him, pulling harder then ever. Not even bothering to put his bits away, he decided to leg it...

MISTAKE

Slight backstory here. Jack loved to chase things. The problem with this is that he never quite figured out how to stop once he'd caught whatever he was chasing. We had to shut him in a seperate room whenever we hoovered otherwise you'd get a fluffy mass barelling into you and knocking you over. I knew I had to catch him before he really hurt this guy, flasher or no

The leash is torn from my hands and Jack is off like a shot. I ran after them, following the screams. By the time i catch up, Jack has the guy pinned, but I couldn't do anything to help. I was too busy laughing.

Jack had tackled him from behind and proceeded to hump him. By the time I had caught up he was trying very hard to stick his cock in this disgusting fella's ear. When I managed to regain control of myself, there was quite a crowd. All of them laughing and a few of them trying to remove Jack from this "poor poor man".

I explained to a couple of guys there what had happened. More laughter ensued and the police were called. Flasher was lifted on the spot, taken to the nick via A&E. Jack's vigorous humping had burst his ear drum.

It turned out they'd been after him for a while. This guy had been flashing pregnant women and children from the primary school down the road (eeew).

Length? I didn't see much through the tears of laughter but apparently it hurt :p
(panda_sam, Sun 31 May 2009, 0:04, 9 replies)

(,)(,)
I was nursing my stereotypical* (ex) mother-in-law through a bout of shingles, many moons ago. On bringing her luchtime soup in the one day, she was asleep, so i gently woke her. For some reason she decided to grab two fistfulls of her nightshirt as she yawned and stretched her hands over her head....

Nanny did indeed have "long fat boobies with blue lines on"

*bitchcow, miserable, nosey, gossipy, racist, road rage,did i say racist?, passive-agressive and hates cats
(LittleWhiteTreat, Sat 30 May 2009, 22:55, Reply)

sorry for the irrelevance
but i have just got a new kitten
he's very lovely and very fluffy
now to make it relevant: he's not wearing any clothes
that count?
(Freddles, Sat 30 May 2009, 20:24, 12 replies)

So there I was, waking about in the nude-
the girl who rents my spare bedroom was out having previously told me she's going out to the cinema the going on a night out. I'm milling about downstairs then invite myself back to my room for 'coffee'. Excited at the idea, minime starts collecting blood that hould be used for other stuff like paying attention to my surroundings. Me and my semi-erect minime walk round the corner at the top of the stairs just as she's walking out of the bathroom. I scream and jump, she does the same, then I apologise and walk into my room. That's my story of a "surprise Lodger".

No apologes for length, though apologies for it slapping her in the face when I jumped.

edit: it's only saturday and we're already sinking to depths of crap-punnage that should surely wait until wednesday! Curse whoever declared it unpunnable!
( uberdeity Wondered why Owen Lars knew of the term "hell" on, Sat 30 May 2009, 18:11, 2 replies)

My friend Edward found it tough being a school uniform designer, especially in the early days. He’s a household name now, but back when he was struggling, the only thing that cheered him up was his pet ferret, Onyx.

It was Dee Comprehensive that really put him on the road to success. The school was inviting aspiring designers to submit their proposals for a new school uniform; a big prize for the best.

Ed thought he’d give it a go. He asked me to call round, just before the deadline. Everything was done; everything except the tie, because he just couldn’t choose which one to go with. His designs were laid out all over the floor, and Ed was staring blankly into the middle distance. How was he to choose? His future career was about to be decided. Little did we know that within six months, he was going to be hailed as the greatest designer of school uniforms that there has ever been, winning awards and plaudits for every blazer. At that moment, he was stuck.

And this is when, somehow (no-one ever owned up to leaving the cage open), from somewhere, Onyx appeared. He ran up to Edward; he ran up to me. And then he ran around on the floor, back and forth, in a perfect frenzy. Then, just as suddenly as he had started, he skidded to a halt by one of the designs, and, difficult as it is to believe, he twisted his little ferrety tail around and pointed at the paper. There was no doubting what was in that little chap’s eyes. He could see victory.

So Ed followed the sound advice of his pet, and the rest is history. Strange as it seems, I suppose you could say that Onyx picked Ed’s new Dee tie.
( vladimir, Sat 30 May 2009, 17:52, 2 replies)

New nickname
School trip up through central Australia, shorts in the heat, school video camera filming our climb up Ayers Rock.

After the parents and students were invited to see the video on our return, I gained the nickname "Lefty".
(ShowPony, Sat 30 May 2009, 17:42, Reply)

short.. and not so sweet..
Staying with a friend at their family home... parents forgot I was there

naked midnight toilet incident (the dad was naked - I was not!)

scarred for life = me
(miss.spanky.pants .. is looking for a handsome prince..., Sat 30 May 2009, 16:22, Reply)

oh the shame....
Picture the scene. Second floor flat. Kitchen window facing out onto communal gardens but with huge tree in front of window. No chance of neighbourly overlookage. Early morning, ironing blouse for work. Topless. I'm not particularly large in the thrupenny department but they're pert, nothing wrong with them...
Suddenly a head pops up at the kitchen window.
Window cleaner. I shrieked, he winked. I made sure I knew his schedule after that.
( Sallyrsm, Sat 30 May 2009, 16:11, Reply)

I may get arrested
But this QOTW has given me an excuse to sit in the park all weekend while its sunny and breezy and hope that the women in the short skirts give me something that I can tell you about this week.

Oh well, on your behalf I will keep trying.

Wish me luck.


(Actually, I don't need QOTW to give me an excuse do this on a breezy day)
( scarpe We Stole Bikes, Sat 30 May 2009, 16:04, Reply)

Bums and buses.
My girlfriend's bedroom is at the very top of her house, with a small wooden spiral staircase leading up to it from the first floor. The steps wind past a window which looks directly out onto the main road.

To those who travel on the top deck of a particular bus in Edinburgh: I'm so, so sorry if you had to witness my bare, pale arse flash you all as I dashed down the stairs last week to relieve my bursting bladder.

I should also apologise to the old lady who looked up in horror as my morning semi bobbed up and down like a languid drinking bird while I nonchalantly climbed the stairs again a few minutes later.

I promise to wear boxers to bed from now on.
(BaronBiscuits, Sat 30 May 2009, 15:57, Reply)

My mum used to teach children with special needs.
She had an outing with one kid with down syndrome, just doing normal things, going around town and the like.

She was paying for some treats in a shop when she heard his voice behind her: 'I love you', and my mum, knowing that people with down syndrome have the tendency to be very affectionate, said 'Aww, I love you too'. He replied, 'no you don't understand, I REALLY love you' and my mum turned from the shop assistant to see him, wang in hand, smiling broadly at her.

From then on, whenever my dad wants to embarrass my mum he shuffles up to her, ginning and gurning, and says in the most simple voice he can 'I REALLY love you'.
( TFD is sporting this season's finest necropants, Sat 30 May 2009, 15:54, Reply)

Probably the most relevant thing I can whip out
There have been quite a few nights where my friends have been startled by a pair of tits or a todger, but often, it will be their own.

Let me explain. There are two incidents that could nicely illustrate this.

Incident the First
Edinburgh Fringe Festival. I was up for a few days. Many, MANY strange things ahppened (including the guy I was kind of with getting with the boy I had been trying to set him up with, then having a fag, deciding he didn't like the taste in his mouth, and instead of brushing his teeth, he instead took a swig of undiluted absinthe on top of all the booze he'd had before...then got into bed with a boy known to take advantage of such situations. But that wasn't unexpected nudity, that was another story), but this one fits the bill. There was a certain girl, who we'll call E, who got very drunk. And very naked. 15 year old busty blonde? The camera phones were out! Including her's, as she was too pished to keep an eye on it. The resulting image of her displaying the fleshy orbs was set as a screensaver. The phone is then returned to her person, and she is none the wiser.
A few days later, one of the perpetrators gets an angry text asking why there are nudey pictures of her on her phone. Bet that would be a shock when you have your phone out, then BOOM, it's your tits. Poor girl.
They were rather nice, though, actually.

Incident the Second
Much the same, but involving The Pet and a couple of his friends having a drinking game using seven bottles (the big ones) of Leffe. Look at us, we're the new fucking bourgeois. Anyway. The Pet tells me he has hazy memories of J stripping off and hugging everyone, and waking up to his todger as the background on his phone.
I'm round at his after my ball, and seeing as I didn't want to get my balldress smokey, I remove it. Seeing as my bra is pinching a bit, I remove that too. So just lying on a teenage boy's bed (The Pet is younger than me by a couple of years, and we're not sexually involved - just intimate :) ) in tights and knickers (and a feather headpiece too). He didn't see me take my bra off, so I guess that could count, but hey. I mention that it was a shame I didn't see J naked, and he replied "It's very good you weren't here, the amount we were drinking you would have passed out and he probably would have tea-bagged you or something."

Length? I've never seen The Pet's, but he's a bass, so his balls are probably huge.
( Lampito rise with the moon, go to bed with the sun, Sat 30 May 2009, 14:40, Reply)

Disgust and envy
A bit like Rachelswipe's story downthread, I was sitting in a Cafe Uno or somesuch place of food averageness. Seated by the window I could survey the world as it walked past while I ate.

Then some nastly old scrote outside stopped, stared in, got his cock out and pissed all over the window. Thing was, he was fucking *huge* so while I was disgusted there was definitely a bit of envy too.
(Wascally Weasel now with 100% fewer jokes., Sat 30 May 2009, 14:01, Reply)

Unexpected. Nude. Eighty.
I am pearoasting this story purely for the fun I got out of making the pun above. And at least I got the pun out of the way at the start, so you have no 'New Ditties' to deal with later.




This is cut and paste from the old 'Housemates' QOTW:



"I was stuck for money, so moved out of my nice flat in Balham to go and become a lodger while I re-financed.

I knew her through work, so thought it wouldn't be too bad. And, in fairness, despite very quickly finding out that she was rather desparetely lonely, once I'd set some boundaries, (No, I will not watch soap operas or be having dinner with you every evening. Or any evening actually) it wasn't too painful.

Until her batty old Mum set fire to her kitchen and had to move in with us.

Suddenly the place became an asylum, the kicthen became a tip, the washing machine was never empty for me to use, there were clothes everywhere, I couldn't cope.

I'd hear strange noises and screams in the night. I'd get woken up at 4am and find all the lights on and the back door open.

I eventually decided that I had sorted out my finances enough to move on when I came home from the pub at closing time one night and found the insane old woman standing at the kitchen sink

with her knickers round her ankles.

Washing her old lady bits.

With the sponge we used for dishes"



Edit: It just dawned on me. Am I the first person on QOTW to ever get a pun and a true story at the same time?
( scarpe We Stole Bikes, Sat 30 May 2009, 13:01, 2 replies)

Surprise lorry driver
I often had to walk thru a car park whilst living in York and returning from the pub, this particular car park was much used by lorry drivers in need of a place to park and kip, and I was muchly surprised one summer eve by a rather wobbly chap standing completely nude but for flip-flops, facing me with his cock in his hand.

Somewhat lost in the surrealness of this scenario for a moment I stopped dead, we exchanged awkward greetings and he explained with a smile 'Need a piss...' and waved said appendage at me by way of demonstrative explanation, it made a quite disturbing wet slappy sound as he flapped it about, which drew my eyes to a cock that to this day I like to pretend must have been a semi-on.

I continued walking with much wider eyes and a rather more sober gait than before as a sound like a pissing horse began behind me...
( ..wil, Sat 30 May 2009, 12:28, 1 reply)

An Inspector Minge mystery...
This is one of those true stories that sound completely made up, it's also quite long but the payoff is worth it I reckon.

Back in 1991, having graduated during a recession (there's a lot of it about) I found myself struggling to get a job - I eventually found work as a guard on the Underground.

Apart from getting to live the childhood dream of many and drive a train from time to time, the job mostly consisted of standing at the back of the train and opeing and closing the doors. Part of this involves making sure that as the train leaves that no one is caught in the doors and being dragged (there was a light that told you that all the doors were closed but you still needed to check).

While I was being trained, we were told to observe the train as it left the station until 3/4 of the train length had gone into the tunnel before closing our own door, which involved leaning out of the carriage as the train departed and slowly picked up speed. During my training they changed this to 2/3 of the train length following a short spate of accidents on the Central line - guards kept smacking their heads on the wall at the end of the platform (ironically known as the Headwall), no-one knew why and the guards themselves couldn't remember how it happened.

One time a driver got to Shepherd's Bush, heard the train doors open and waited and waited for them to close. Nothing happened. He called up the guard over the extremely rubbish intercom they had back then and got no answer. He eventually walked the entire length of the platform to remonstrate with his guard (a time honoured tradition involving liberal use of the word cunt - a typical example I remember is when a driver asked me to save him one of the many newspapers left by passengers - I gave him a Daily Mirror and he said "Next time, get me one with tits in you cunt"). On reaching the end of the train the driver found the guard lying on the floor of the carriage, unconscious and bleeding from a head wound.

There had obviously been a passenger in the carriage who had opened the doors to leave the train but not told anyone about the unconscious guard. The guard later recovered but as with previous cases couldn't recall how it came about. With CCTV coverage being sporadic and of very poor quality at the time it appeared to be an unsolvable mystery.

Anyways, shortly after this, I passed out as a fully qualified guard and started working on the line as normal. One day, heading westbound from Epping to West Ruislip I was at Holland Park, not long after the morning peak.

The train and the platform were largely empty apart from a woman sitting on a bench about 3/4 of the way down the platform. As the train was leaving the station I noticed her watching me, so looked back at her - as I started to draw level (and as the train continued to accelerate) she smiled at me, pulled up her skirt to reveal, well everything - I was understandably transfixed and stared at her as the train went passed until I suddenly realised what was happening and drew my head in sharply, the tiniest moment before my head drew level with the headwall at the end of the platform.

So I had figured that was what was happening, she was transfixing guards with her genitals and causing them to smack their heads into the headwall.

I reported it, expecting some thanks for solving the mystery, instead everyone thought I was making it up. I only did the job for about eighteen months but that was just one of several bizarre experiences, there was also the North Acton Sniper (who used to shoot out train windows with a high powered air rifle), the naked sunbather on the Chigwell loop and the idiot who threw himself off a bridge in front of our train at South Woodford, but instead bounced off the track.
(Wascally Weasel now with 100% fewer jokes., Sat 30 May 2009, 12:22, 3 replies)

i was once having dinner
with my friend caro in the cafe rouge on shep bush road when this horrible old man shuffled up to the window. there's a fair few homeless, alcoholics and general mentals wandering around that sexy part of london. he grinned at us and started massaging his cock through his trousers. i didn't really notice, as i had seen him and looked away, but then caro suddenly said in tones of disgust and real disappointment, "oh lovely, and now he's WANKING."

so i looked. [out of instinct not desire.]

just at the precise moment that he slid his scrofulous penis out of his pants and waved it at us.

weightwatchers should use this diet plan. horny old tramp cock at every dinner table? you'd never ever eat again.
( rachelswipe with a fork, Sat 30 May 2009, 11:43, 1 reply)

Odd visitations
One night I pulled this Welsh bird called Judith. I'd recently started hanging out with a new bunch of people, and while one guy was always trying to act the alpha male, as soon as I got to know all of them, Judith and I totally had eyes for each other.

Problem was, I still lived at home with my mum, but we were quiet and fairly discreet after copping off for the first time. But when I pulled open my curtains the next morning, there was a massive crowd of people waiting for me outsides, gazing up at me standing there naked as the day as I was born, and cheering. Then they claimed I was the messiah! I don't think my cock was that impressive.
(McChinaman banned, Sat 30 May 2009, 11:17, 2 replies)