Mrs Vagabond and I have a thing going about whether or not there are cows grazed on Hackney Marshes.
She claims to have seen some from the train, and I have never, so I find it amusing to disbelieve her whenever she mentions them.

Imagine our delight t'other day then. Looking out of the window on the other side of the carriage, by which a large woman happened to be sitting, Mrs Vagabond suddenly pointed and declared triumpantly "THERE'S A COW!"

At that precise moment we went into a tunnel.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Fri 23 Jul 2010, 12:45, 3 replies)

A slight dip in Anglo - Syrian relations
Changing bus in Allepo, my then wife asked me where to stow her rucksack. I pointed out the baggage hold with an outstretched hand. My open palm loudly made contact with the bald pate of a Syrian gentleman who was stooped over stowing his luggage!

The Syrian gentleman looked enraged and people stared at me muttering. My wife looked horrified. I apologised profusely in broken Arabic which calmed things down.

I then went and spoiled it all by sitting down on the bus and shaking and practically crying with laughter.
( Vambo, Fri 23 Jul 2010, 12:38, 2 replies)

I wish I could laugh.
But I can't.
I was unloading the old dishwasher at the tip last weekend, you know how metal appliances often have just a folded metal edge at the back? Well, this started to cut into my fingers as the washer started to slide between them. As I felt the second finger being cut, my eagerness to put the bloody thing down overwhelmed my back. Almost a week later and I can almost sleep for three hours on the trot.
It turns out the drugs DO work, but only for a limited time.

So please, have a laugh at my expense, it looks like I've shat myself when I walk. And my balls ache for Britain (NOT Fern). That's got to be good enough for the question!

(Sneezing is even worse. Now THAT'S painfull.)
( Blind Meach Cautiously optimistic, Fri 23 Jul 2010, 12:35, Reply)

I shouldn't have laughed when I read this
cruelty to animals is NOT funny, but..

www.telegraph.co.uk/news/worldnews/europe/russia/7900322/Russian-investigation-into-paragliding-donkey.html

Single to Hull please
(Sir Tainley Barking Ezekiel 23:20, Fri 23 Jul 2010, 12:24, 3 replies)

Bitter tears
The mrs and myself went to see a student production at her college of something called The Bitter Tears of Petra Von Kant. It's a play that was clearly very shocking and daring when it was written, as it features an old lady in a lesbian relationship with her maid and it's all very deep and emotional and whatnot.

Except that we just found it ridiculous. The poor girl playing the lead role was acting her socks off, throwing herself on the bed and crying 'You maaaayke me vaaant to pyuuuke' at anyone who would listen and the more desperate and heartbroken she became, the more we laughed. Finally my dear lady laughed so hard a fart came out, and that was the end of us. We collapsed in hysterics and couldn't stop.

I felt bad for the actress - she was working so hard with a shonky script. On other nights people went to see it and were raving to us about how brilliant she was, but they were all actors so their opinion can't be taken seriously.
( flatfrog Staring vacantly into space, Fri 23 Jul 2010, 12:19, Reply)

A long ride Down(s) the Northern Line
I don't believe in a god, an immortal soul or an afterlife. However, if, against all my expectations, after my embarrassing, Flymo-related death, I awake to find myself atop a vast expanse of stratocumulus, confronted by towering, shimmering gates, and a chap called 'Peter' asks me to account for my sins, I shall have to tell him the following: I tried. Really, I did. I never meant anyone ill, I just made mistakes, and to err is, after all, human. And if I ever did anything really reprehensible, it was probably because I'd been drinking beer. Because that is the only excuse I have for guiltily laughing at the lad with Downs Syndrome who sat across from us in the tube carriage.

L, a friend of ours, had been down to visit, so we'd taken him round a few choice pubs around That London and had got on the Northern Line to make our long way home. After attempting to eat the mountain of bargain-bin sandwiches we'd acquired as 'beer sponge' for the journey, conversation returned to the usual drunken topics, and much talking-of-bollocks and hapless giggling ensued.

All this was of great entertainment to the lad sitting across the carriage from us. He looked as though he might be in his late teens, and was quite clearly afflicted with Downs Syndrome. Bless him, he looked so innocently cheerful. I don't know whether he had a clue what we were talking about - we probably didn't, so anyone else would have had no chance - but it was as though our raucous laughter resonated with him and made him laugh as well. It was almost endearing to see him deriving so much enjoyment from our merriment.

But of course, alcohol makes you do things that decency and shame would prevent you from doing normally. It's like the slightly malicious child in the playground that dares you to do something really naughty. And so, L sat down next to him on the seats opposite us. As T and I continued our conversational exchange of meaningless but tremendously amusing rambling, we couldn't help but notice L was mimicking all the gestures, actions and haplessly mongoloid laughter of our poor lone audience member.

Of course we felt bad for laughing. But we were laughing, and the poor lad seemed to be oblivious to this, just laughing along like he had before. It's alright, we told ourselves, the tube carriage is almost empty. There's the three of us, our Downs friend and a middle-aged couple sitting further down the carriage, who will probably just do The British Thing and look away in embarrassment at this awful spectacle.

And so we laughed. We meant the lad no harm, we meant him no upset, but L's tasteless impersonations seemed so funny at the time. It was all in jest. But then, as the train pulled into Clapham South station, our travelling companion got to his feet. Fun's over lads, this must be his stop.

Our eyes followed him as he walked over to the doors of the train. He was leaving via the same doors as the middle-aged couple. In fact, he was talking to the middle-aged couple. In fact, judging from the very familiar way in which they're talking to him...oh shit. Oh holy fucking shit.

They were his parents. Oh, god only knows how much they must have wept that night. All we could do was bury our faces in our hands as they burned with an ashamed redness that could have fried an egg. Laughter, drunken or otherwise, has never had such a horrible aftertaste.
(LongJohnBaldry, Fri 23 Jul 2010, 12:01, 4 replies)

Comedy Viewing...
Stand-up - Not Funny
Comedy sitcoms such as Friends - Not Funny
Cartoons - Not Funny
Sketch Comedy - Not Funny
Improvisational comedy - Not Funny.
Youtube videos of people really hurting themselves having an accident on a skateboard, a BMX, a rope swing or trying any random stunt = F**kin HILARIOUS!!!!
(Miggyman, Fri 23 Jul 2010, 11:42, Reply)

Not sure if this laugh
is that guilty but I once saw two down syndromes having sex on the back of a bus, she was straddling the guy and bouncing up and down and being very noisy. It was packed full of mothers with their children who were looking away embarrassed by the scene. I did catch the eye of a few mothers who couldn't stop laughing, which started me off....I'm sure if that had been anyone except people with downs they would have been tutted off the bus.
(bROKEN aRROW PUA HVI Master, Fri 23 Jul 2010, 11:36, 6 replies)

My sisters' 40th
My sister recently celebrated her 40th birthday. All and sundry were invited, and the main living room of her house (no bigger than the Great Hall at Hampton Court, or maybe Wembley stadium) was converted into a function room. Lots of tables with white linen and flowers, hired in caterers and waitresses (did I mention my sister is loaded, the bitch?) and (and here my downfall starts) rather a large amount of wine.

This was the first problem, as I do like a drop or two of tasty, tasty fermented grape juice. The second problem is that I was seated next to my brother in law. We have a rather unfortunate relationship, i.e. we are far too similar. We both have an inappropriate sense of humour (might tell the "guffawing at uncle's funeral" story later) and have a disconcerting habit of trying to make the other laugh at bad times.

Now, the meal had been consumed and we were all sitting around repleat. My sister made a speech, my dad proposed a toast, and all that was to happen was for the cake to be brought in before the tables were cleared away for the evening's partaaying.

Here's where things went downhill.

My sister's daughter was 11 at the time and had just taken up the viola. Now, she had decided that as the cake came in she was going to play "Happy Birthday" on the viola from the minstrels' gallery type thing which overlooked the living room (in point of fact, it used to be a hayloft but now converted for this porpoise.) Anyhoo, as the cake came in, everyone gave rapt silence to my niece as she started playing.

Unfortunately, my niece did not know the difference between a major and a minor key, so this version of Happy Birthday was particularly bleak, as if to suggest that this would be the last birthday my sister, or indeed any of us present, would enjoy. By the third bar I made the fatal error of looking over at my brother in law to see an expression on his face that I imagine mirrored my own: a grim set jaw with a spastic twitch at the corners of his mouth as he was desperately trying to prevent spontaneous lolz-combustion. I was biting hard on the inside of my cheek imagining dead kittens and suchlike to prevent the laughter, suddenly becoming focused on the flower arrangement in the centre of the table.

So far, so good. I could lose my laughter in the applause that was soon to come.

Unfortunately...

Three things happened. First of all, my niece fluffs about the 5th to last note. Now, anyone who has experience with stringed instruments knows that they do not suffer errors gladly, and a high pitched *SCREECH* was the reward. Secondly, my brother in law turns to me, and the unmitigated cunt raises his left eyebrow in a Roger Moore-esque expression of humour. Thirdly, the music ends, and there is a split-second delay before the applause, during which time I am heard to all and sundry to make a noise like a freshly enema'd goose as the laughter explodes. This causes:

1: everyone around me to look at me like I had just raped a small kitten.

2: My niece to run off crying.

3: Me to dissolve into uncontrollable fits of laughter to the point that I feel my jaw is about to drop off.

I'm such a cunt.
( Undercovercarrot got done for gross misconduct on..., Fri 23 Jul 2010, 11:35, 10 replies)

Born to be failed
Doing a motorcycle driving test, the first part is in a car-park, driving around cones to prove you are in basic control of your throbbing 50-cc monster. I had finished mine, and was idly watching a girl on a step-thru moped setting off around the rectangular course.

Reaching the first corner, she must have got her gearchange/throttle coordination wrong, as the machine suddenly shot forward, engine screaming. It even managed to wheelie, which was lucky as there was a wall in front of her. The bike actually shot vertically up the wall, dumping her off, then came to rest hanging about two metres up the wall, tangled in some ivy. The stunned silence was only broken by the sound of petrol pouring out of the tank and splashing onto the face of the unfortunate rider lying on the ground below.

I don't know what happened next as I lost it at that point...
(moon monkey is busy making memories worth repressing, Fri 23 Jul 2010, 11:32, 13 replies)

I don't know if this counts
but I was parked up in McDonalds carpark recently and there is always a small murder of crows hopping about looking for scraps. If you open your window, they see you and hop closer. They're not stupid.

Anyway, I finished my food and had left a few fries in the bottom of the bag as they were too salty by far. I went to put the bag in the overflowing bin and as I turned and walked back to the car, the bag fell onto the floor and crows rushed over, fighting to get there first.

The first one there leaned in and stuck it's head right in to grab the unhealthy treats but when it stood back up, the bag had slid over it's head and partly down it's body. As this happened, the fries tipped out and all the other crows rushed in and stole them from around it's feet leaving it hopping about with a large bag over its head and missing out.

I don't know if crows find things funny, but if they found it as funny as I did they wouldn't have been able to fly.
( sandettie light vessel automatic New Twitter - @bollocksreally, Fri 23 Jul 2010, 11:27, 2 replies)

Gulls ahoy
Being a climbist I tend to frequent sea-cliffs with some regularity.
Not too long ago I was on Portland peninsula/island with my mate Geordie Dave, and were climbing routes right next to each other. Naturally it descended into a race, with a fair amount of 'Ooh, finding it hard? It is cause you're a bummer?' and other such eloquent delights being exchanged.

Dave had was higher up than I was, very nearly at the top, and was miming doing massive poos down onto me (I promise we are both grownups.) I was making a concerted effort to catch up and snatch my victory when I heard Dave shouting a lot and moving about rather more than I would expect for somebody attempting to travel in a straight line.

What I saw when I looked up was Dave being mauled by the most enormous and vicious-looking seagull. It looked like it was trying to take his face off to feed to its no doubt carnivorous young. A split second later he lost his grip on the rock and fell about eight feet, stopping just below me.
I was totally unable to move, hanging off the bolt in front of me and laughing till a little bit of wee came out.

He still won, the hard bastard, with bird shit on him and all.
(Galve, Son of Galve, Fri 23 Jul 2010, 11:24, 3 replies)

You know that scene in Titanic...
where the ship starts sinking and everybody slides down the deck?

Me snickers "Imagine all the splinters!", que 3 rows of sitting-on-the-edge-of-your-seat movie goers pissing themselves laughing!

I did shed a tear at the end though...
(Rumbling Bear rumbled on, Fri 23 Jul 2010, 11:19, 8 replies)

it was my Dad's funeral...
a Catholic job as that is what he was (me and Mum are C of E) and the Church was packed to the rafters with his ex-RAF mates and his mates at new employers who were Police, his side of the family come from Wales and even the Methodist side of Mum's who wouldn't normally be seen dead in a Cafflic church....
We were all just about getting settled and sat down when my Great Auntie Hilda's hearing aid started feeding back and doing that funny whistling thing which was very loud in the quiet space (picked up perfectly by the mic above the Priest, too)

I burst out laughing. Real belly laughs. Could not stop. The Catholic side of the mob giving me the sort of looks usually reserved for the Ian Huntley's and Moira Hindley's of this world.

Thanks Dad. You made me laugh even on that day, you old git!
( Sallyrsm, Fri 23 Jul 2010, 11:17, Reply)

God squad
I do laugh at godders. Sorry. Part of me says dont. But...
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ul3GqD_E45w
I have to
( enoughblueskyforsailorstrousers, Fri 23 Jul 2010, 11:03, 2 replies)

Speed Awareness Course
I had to go on a Speed Awareness Course after being caught doing 57 in a 50. It's a bit of a touch, as no points, and the cost of the course is £60 which is equivalent to the fine.

Anyway, the course was really awful... the guy was extremely patronising whilst trying to be all 'matey'. There were a few nutters doing the course, including a couple of elderly women who clearly had an issue with lorry drivers (incidently representing about 1/2 the people on the course!). They constantly insulted lorry drivers and you could see them getting madder and madder. I was waiting for one of them to say "and they murder prostitutes too!".

Anyhow, the discussion was about how speeding is dangerous... and one of the old dears got onto the topic of horses, and about how speeding past a horse could cause spook the horse and it could be dangerous. The bloke thought this was a revelation, who gives a shit that speedings dangerous to drivers, passengers and other humans... it's HORSES we should be concerned about! He then proceeded to say "who would win between a horse and a car?!"... at which point I completely lost it, and did one of those half-cry half-squeals as I failed to suppress my giggles... there was some bungee-snot too as I bit my lip and covered my face with my hands and shook with silent laughter. The whole room turned and looked at me like I'd just shot a horse there and then and run it over in my Honda Accord.

Length - about 1 inch, but soon shot back up my nostril.
(jonny_power boom chika wah wow, Fri 23 Jul 2010, 11:02, 1 reply)

My granddad spent his last few years in a nursing home just down the road from where we lived.
He had made some good friends there while he was alive and when he passed on a lot of them came to the funeral at our house. As it was just up the road the home allowed some of the more fragile residents to attend. One of whom was called Elsie if I remember correctly, and she was lovely.

Anyhow, it was a very somber day. My mum wasn't coping as well as she normally does, the 'stiff upper lip' attitude my family adopts was under a lot of strain, even my stone faced father was almost caught out.

As the day came to a close, friends and family had begun to depart at the end of the evening wake, Elsie was still in our house. My mum felt sorry for her as she might not see her as much now her father was gone and fed her cups of tea, sandwiches and cake while my aunt and close family friends chatted about my grandfather.

As dusk approached the nursing home called and said we would need to be getting Elsie back for her night-time medication, so my dad helped her up and my aunt passed her the zimmer frame. As she shuffled along to the living room door she stopped and put her hand on my mum's arm and said:

"You know *****, it's been a sad day, but I have had a wonderful time. I'm so glad something happened to break the monotony"

My mum erupted in laughter, when the statement had sunk in she was followed by my aunt, brothers, myself and the rest of the people there. We all felt bad for laughing on such a sad day but it gave us a much needed release, and while did feel guilty, we laughed until tears streamed down our faces.
( Bamboo Steamer, Fri 23 Jul 2010, 10:57, 2 replies)

A roasty pea-cheek
Once in a supermarket, the young guy on the checkout had what I assume was a form of motor neurone disease. He asked how I was, we made smalltalk, he was steadily keying stuff into the till, and even helped me pack. Although he had trouble opening a couple of carrier bags.

I paid, and he looked at me sheepishly as he took several attempts to fish the correct change from the till. I grinned and said "you take your time mate".

However, the woman behind me was huffing and puffing and getting impatient, and started taking stuff off the belt and put it back in her basket to go to another checkout.

I tutted, and he called over to her in his best exaggerated mong voice, "Is it 'cos I'm a spaz?"

I laughed so hard my knees buckled and I nearly dropped my shopping.
( sandettie light vessel automatic New Twitter - @bollocksreally, Fri 23 Jul 2010, 10:57, 2 replies)

Bicycle Rape
On the way to work a month or so ago a cyclist went past me at a fair speed – he was standing up on the pedals, his bum a few inches off the saddle.

There was a clatter and the saddle suddenly fell off leaving a nice shiny chrome tube pointing in the general direction of his arse!

Anticipating a comic moment I stopped, waited and watched. It wasn’t long before he tried to sit on the missing saddle! An anguished cry as the tube inserted a sizeable portion of his Lycra shorts up his choccy starfish!

As he limped off to retrieve the saddle I was shaking with laughter and could barely stand upright!
( Vambo, Fri 23 Jul 2010, 10:56, 2 replies)

Four-year-olds should be confined until they learn diplomacy.
I was out shopping with my four year old nephew.

A woman of (un) healthy proportions was stood in front of us in the queue. My nephew stood behind her, sizing up her backside with intent. Staring, I should say, doing some mental arithmetic and dreaming those toddler dreams. “Auntie Snark! I can fit in her butt!” was his final conclusion, whispered at jet engine level. I went bug-eyed trying to keep the laughs politely contained within my own face.

The woman turned around with the ferocity of a million Twinkies and Godzilla stamped, “Keep your child under control!” By this time, I’d given up on breathing and was solely concentrating on not laughing, which was fairly obvious by my own hand trying to scoop the chortles back into my mouth.

Genuinely hurt and a bit scared, my nephew, too young to understand the intricacies of diplomacy and why you should only ever call a woman ‘thin’, whimpered and said, “But…but…I can fit in her bummy, Auntie,” while doing his best to gesticulate the size of her massive crack.

People were staring, awaiting my next move. This was my moment. Beads of sweat formed on my brow. Do I prove that I am an adult and force this child to make a magnanimous apology to this woman? A hyena-like noise emerged from the depths my guts as I attempted to apologise, and I ran away with my giggling nephew in tow. I thought I was going to sick up all down my tits if I had to keep a straight face.
(TheSnark oh, c'mon, like you didn't see me coming, Fri 23 Jul 2010, 10:54, 9 replies)

Auntie June
My mum took a phone call once, as we were sat around watching TV, and it became clear pretty quickly that it was bad news (she was doing her 'concerned' voice).

Dad and I gave each other that sort of ' Oh God, someone's died!' look, and muted the TV to listen to the end of the conversation.

'Alright.... Alright love.... Yes, I'll let people know... You just relax now and try and enjoy the rest of the holiday.... Yes, and say hello to her when you visit. Alright, Bye.'
'What's happened Mum?'
'Oh, it's your Auntie,' (Auntie was a massive boozer), 'she is alright, but she is in the hospital. She was having a Gin and Tonic on the balcony in Lanzarote, and she fell off.'

Long, very solemn pause...

...massive eruption of laughter.

In fairness, Auntie got away with a broken arm, and she quit the booze a few years after, so there is a happy ending.
(SnowyTheWereRabbit the Leporid from Hell, Fri 23 Jul 2010, 10:46, Reply)

Not me but my dad
I fell down the side of my bed and managed to dislocated my shoulder with my arm wrapped around the back of my head.

Now usually it's not too much of a problem but as I was stuck in between the bed and the wall I couldn't move.

So what does my dad do when asked to help me out?

He starts filming me while pissing himself laughing for 20 mins while I'm in agony
(NuffMuff fucks shrubbery, Fri 23 Jul 2010, 10:46, Reply)

My nan
has a habit of calling her cat her 'pussy'.
So whenever I visit, I'm waiting for the inevitable moment when she starts talking about her pussy. It's always something like, "I need to go feed my pussy" or "I haven't seen my pussy in a while". My mum doesn't think it's funny at all but my brother and dad clearly get it, so I have to sit there, face in my hands, pretending to rub my eye or something whilst I suppress the giggles and avoid eye contact with my father or brother at all costs.

It's awful when she does it at the dinner table.
(MikeyNiv can coin snatch 32 pennies, Fri 23 Jul 2010, 10:38, 10 replies)

My mum
god bless her.

We were making roasted chessnuts in the oven. As we didnt have an oven dish, my mum came up with the clever idea of making a tinfoil parcel to roast them in.

Once cooked, she retreived the piping hot nuts from the oven laid them on the work top and began peeling open the parcel.

*BANG*

The chestnuts exploded out of the bag, plastering my mum and the ceiling, with bits of burning nuts.

What did I do?

P!ss myself laughing. Not sure why, but perhaps it was the fact there was a perfect stensil outline of my mums head on the ceiling where the nuts hadnt stuck to the ceiling, but hit here instead.

She was screaming, I was doubled over.

I still feel guilty, but it was funny as fook.
(Dan dan dan They tik urh jerbs!!!, Fri 23 Jul 2010, 10:36, 1 reply)

Instant karma's goin' to get you...
We'd had a lovely day climbing up at Stanage, (biggest belly laugh story to come later) and returned to the North Lees camp site at the bottom of the hill. Walking up to the site, we noticed a couple of other campers standing at the wall, pointing and laughing. I remember how we joked about the sheep who also occupied the field, and how one must have got into a tent.
We stood for a minute with the now growing watchers, laughing our heads off at the sight of a tent, obviously now inhabited by the sheep, with strange bumps and lumps being visible throught the haze of mossies. (The most annoying occupant of the site.)
At this point, I recognised the tent. Yes reader, it was mine.
I raced over to evict the sheep, dropping my gear in the process.
Inside my tent, I found two sheep. One was scared off immediately, but the other WAS IN MY SLEEPING BAG! All my eggs and bread had gone, (stupid to leave them inside the tent with hindsight) but in my sleeping bag the sheep had left me a present. A lot of very small presents to be exact.
After a couple of pints I was still laughing as hard as the others, but now forever branded with the moniker of sheep worrier. Almost entirely un-justified.
( Blind Meach Cautiously optimistic, Fri 23 Jul 2010, 10:33, 6 replies)

When I was 8 years old..
I arrived back at school after a mid-week teacher training day.
Even approaching the gates there was a strange feel about the place today. But being eight, I had no comprehension of what I was about to find out.

I went into the cloakroom and everyone was quiet, some people crying. I was confused. I asked this girl. "Whys she crying?"
"What? Havnt you heard? David Carpenter is dead!!"

The poor kid had got run over by a bus on our day off. This was the first time in my life that anyone I had met or knew had died. I didn't know how to react. Then I thought, 'hmm I didn't like this kid much anyway'.

Then it came... an uncontrollable explosive burst.. First a shy smirgk, then I burst out laughing!

I don't know what it is. I had this problem all the time as a kid (and still do to an extent as an adult!) But when faced with a serious situation, such as a good old telling off from the parents. I cant help but smirk and laugh. In that special assembly we had I had to just keep my hands over my face because I couldnt control myself. Thankfully to others, this could have looked at as despair.

Then all day, everyones walking around with sad faces. So I'm thinking, Oh I must do too, But that was difficult!!! Then the other kids were getting mad at me, saying "I cant believe you think its funny!" Then they'd look at me in a real serious way... which made me worse!!

Laughing in inappropriate moments. Sometimes I think its the thought of making sure I dont laugh which makes me laugh.
Anyone else inflicted with this?
(Miggyman, Fri 23 Jul 2010, 10:07, 6 replies)

The bar manager's dog ate his new bag of magic mushrooms, and spent the entire day sitting in the corner of the living room upstairs, staring intently at the wall.
That is all.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Fri 23 Jul 2010, 10:02, 7 replies)

Worst guilty laugh I've done online
is giving fake advice on an internet forum for epileptics. A few kids on there were talking about wanting to play their favourite games, but were being set off by the strobing effects of their monitors.

So....I...um...left an anonymous post saying how scientists had discovered that the main trigger for seizures is too much information being passed to the visual cortex in the frontal lobe while staring at the fluctuating light source. 1 way to combat this flood of information though is to wear an eye-patch, which limits the amount of visual stimulation thus preventing the cortex from overloading the brain.

After a few excited responces, I went back onto the forum thread later on to see the results. A few kids had replied back with "Didn't work mate, still had a seizure" and one kid asked what I would've expected as a result from getting kids to wear an eye-patch testing this?

My answer was simple; "YARRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!"

I never went on that forum again.

rp for teh comp, and yes, I do apologise to all the window lickers on the boards for this, twas a one-off
( Jeccius Steam Borderlands 2 junkie, Fri 23 Jul 2010, 9:57, 11 replies)

Community Service
Out with my mate in a club in Glasgow, after a few light beverages she wandered off into the smog (before the smoking ban). Knowing her reputation for fixing herself to random men's lips we went off to find her. When we spotted her she was sucking the face off a severely disabled guy in a wheelchair. We were stunned at first, but then fell about laughing, became even funnier when she later told us she really liked him but couldn't understand why he didn't want to dance…. She was later sick up her sleeve in a taxi.

Shouldn't be funny but still makes me giggle thinking about it.
(JellyBelly JellyBelly, Fri 23 Jul 2010, 9:55, Reply)