Disability Seminar
Back in my college days I went to a disability seminar. There were all sorts of differently abled folk there to give speeches etc. At one point a lady in a wheelchair needed a push to get up the ramp to the podium. A gentleman who was a dwarf obliged.

It was then that the "roll up, roll up!" Circus Music started playing in my head.

I'm going to hell.
(DasKitty, Thu 18 Dec 2008, 16:42, Reply)

I may have sexually assaulted a quadriplegic
Tourette's has, in turn, reminded me ...

A boozy weekend in Dublin a few years ago with a (platonic) male friend.

After doing the inevitable Guinness factory tour, and imbibing an inevitably large quantity of booze we hit inevitably* Temple Bar.

A long night of boozing commenced, ending up in some awful touristy nightclub which booted us out at about 4am.

After sleeping the majority of that off back at the hotel we met up for Sunday lunch ... it was at that point that the mist started clear, and my memories of the previous night returned.

I had to ask whether I had, in fact, been on the dancefloor in said club gyrating at a younger version of Stephen Hawking who could do very little about it all, or if it was just a bad dream.

No, that was me.


_{*ok, I'll stop...}
(Penguins_Made_Me_Do_It is a dolt ... and she don't care, Thu 18 Dec 2008, 16:26, 2 replies)

Kaol just reminded me, I dropped a midget
Twas a few years ago, around this time of year. A few of us were out on a hen party, dressed as Santas.

While I was at the bar, this bloke started chatting me up and asked if I'd like to dance. It wasn't until he climbed down from his bar stool that I noticed he was vertically challenged.

Not wanting to offend the chap, and being the season of good will, I thought it only good manners to continue to the dance floor.

Then the cheeky little shite grabbed my arse! So, without thinking, I grabbed his too. Now, my son must have been around 4, and my drunken instinct was to pick the dwarf up and sit him on my hip. And swing him round on the dancefloor.

What fun. Until, being at the "right" level now, Little Elvis (for that is his name) decided to plant a smacker on my lips.

EEEEEOUGH! Nasty slavvery yuck! Too busy was I wiping the slavver off my chops - with both hands, for it was gross - it took a moment or two before I realised that I'd dropped him. On his back. He resembled one of those Smash robots, squirming on the floor as I peeled a potato.....
( Tourette's ( . )( . ) has a monkey hair in her fried egg, Thu 18 Dec 2008, 16:11, 5 replies)

Explaining Positive Discrimination
Rock music society meeting in the bar. Long hair, bleached hair, leather, denim, make up (glam rocker stuff, you know?) and general chit chat about life.

One guy is discussing something job related with another and asks him "What is positive discrimination?"

"Well," he says, "Positive discrimination is when you employ an Asian lesbian cripple because she's the only Asian lesbian cripple who's applied for the job. Suitability has nothing to do with it."

Suddenly there's a loud clunk as the doors to the bar are pushed open by an object. Silence descends over everyone. As an Indian girl in an electric wheelchair moves slowly through the bar to go into the canteen.

The silence is now one of such profound stunnedness, all eyes on this lass in the electric wheelchair as she heads to the canteen. You could have heard a headlouse fart. She clunks through the double doors to the canteen.

As they shut everyone in the bar starts howling with uncontrollable laughter. At least two people pissed themselves. I was crying hysterically on the table. The comic timing of this was so incredibly perfect.

The only way it could have been better is if she had been in a Spazz wheelchair.
(Jamie and his magic bat You can bump n' grind, it is good for your mind, Thu 18 Dec 2008, 16:05, 2 replies)

Working at an airport
I have for the last few years worked as a rep in ski resorts in France, and the highlight of the week is welcoming the new guests at the airport (this should be said dripping with sarcasm).

Two years ago I was talking to two lovely young ladies who were working abroad for the first time, working my charm as it were (obviously getting nowhere). Get to the end of the conversation and turn around to stride manfully away, unbeknownst to me, a small child had managed to escape from his parents and just happened to toddle by at the wrong time.

The result was a small child catapulted across the concourse of a busy arrivals lounge. A bit like the granny kicking the baby vid that did the rounds a few years ago.

The going to Hell bit is where I was completely unable to keep a straight face and burst into hysterical laughter right in front of his parents.

In my defense, he really shouldn't have been left running around a busy airport.
(Blue_in_Exile, Thu 18 Dec 2008, 16:05, Reply)

When working as airport security
Handed somebody their case from the x-ray belt. Didn't notice midget stood in front of them.

Knocked him out with heavy case.

I don't work there anymore.
(An amusing and topical username, Thu 18 Dec 2008, 15:42, Reply)

and in turn, i should have joined myspace just reminded me
On the subject of blind people. It wasn't intentional, but you'll probably find it funny.

I was on a train a few weeks ago. It was really full. Ridiculously full. Absolutely fucking rammed. Every seat full, people stood in the ends of the carriages and the bits between them, you know the score.

I was stood in the end of one of the carriages, by the sideways facing seats and a big pile of luggage, with about half a square foot of space to stand in. The aisle was crammed with bags as well, so every time someone came along trying to get on or off, me and the bloke next to me had to lift a few suitcases up and hold them in our arms, and sort of turn round, shuffle backwards and breathe in so there was enough space to get down the aisle. Every time, I had to shove my arse right in the face of this fairly hot teenage girl who was asleep on one of the sideways seats. We got quite good at it in the end, me and this random bloke, it was like some sort of choreographed dance move. But I digress.

After the endless amounts of old grannies trying to get past, came a bloke with a white stick. Fairly obviously blind, or visually impaired. We executed our little manoeuvre, making sure he had as much space as we could create. As he came up to us he asked us where the toilet was. I directed him to the next one, at the far end of the carriage he was passing into, and told him it was on his right.

We watched his slow progress down the aisle of the next carriage (well, there was nothing else to do!) until, about two thirds of the way there, he stumbled over a bag someone else had left in the aisle, stacked it, and faceplanted pretty much into someone's lap. I thought he'd knocked himself out at first, but he seemed to be alright once he was helped to his feet.

And the bad bit? I didn't notice until this poor bloke had been to the toilet, struggled back through the carriage, and our bottleneck of piles of luggage, and past us back to his seat, that the wall behind me I was crammed against was, unbeknownst to me, a door. To a toilet. About 5 yards from where this bloke was sat in the first place, and I'd made him traverse the whole length of a packed carriage, and fall over into the bargain.

I wondered why a few people gave me dirty looks as I was originally directing him to the toilet!
(Son of Sam-i-am We're all as mad as hatters here, Thu 18 Dec 2008, 15:39, 5 replies)

Late post
My friend is going to hell.

When drunk one day he confided in me that he sometimes has problems pissing, especially when there is somebody at the next urinal. When this happens, he imagines he's pissing on fat people, and then he can go.

wrong.
( rofl harris, Thu 18 Dec 2008, 15:31, Reply)

Kaol reminded me
My friend has a huge fear of blind people. It doesnt happen often but when she sees one she runs away. And we piss ourselves.

In the summer there was about 12 of us loitering with intent near my house and a blind person walked past and brushed against her arm. Cue her running away screaming nearly knocking her over and us in fits of histerical laughter while the poor woman was still right next to us.


I feel terrible now
(i should have joined myspace, Thu 18 Dec 2008, 15:25, Reply)

Laughing at Midgets
As much of a cunt as it makes me feel, I nearly piss myself laughing every time I see one.

I was at a party once, in a flat with a balcony.
I'd gone out to have a smoke, and when I turned around there was a midget in the lounge.
I laughed so hard that I had to stay out on the balcony for about an hour.

I wish I could be more tactful sometimes.
( Cawl, Thu 18 Dec 2008, 15:14, 17 replies)

Modern day celebrity
I don't understand modern day celebrity. Years ago you had to break your back to attain a high level of stardom.

Nowadays you can practically get someone to do the back breaking and still get on the front page of every newspaper.

Just ask Baby P.
( SeasonTicketless is too often the statue, and rarely the pigeon., Thu 18 Dec 2008, 14:56, 1 reply)

The Round Table
I once built a time machine. It was a clunky affair, not like the kind of machine glorified by the likes Of Emmett Brown, or Alexander Hartdegen - oh no. I'd describe it as more of a simple featureless steel box, which contained within all the wonderous equipment which made time travel possible.

Of course the discovery of the ability to transform the machine and its content into photons was key - as was the ability to project those photons at above the speed of light, thus allowing them to be projected into the past. Of course there also had to be the ability to put the box into complete stasis, allowing travel into the future. These two differing methods were not without their problems - how to put the photon projector within the box to retain internal control of the time reversal? One day I cracked it.

Oh the fun I had, travelling through the whole of history, all the while of course having to plan carefully - I had to make sure not to upset the thread of history, lest I caused a paradox, or changed things in too heavy a way.
What if you accidentally killed one of your ancestors? Would you cease to exist?

That being said, the further back in time I went the less chance there was of this happening, as travel and geography enabled the avoidance of ancestral links to become more predictable. I felt that since my ancestry lay in Russian peasantry I would be pretty safe in most parts of the world.

On one of my jaunts I visited Britain around the beginning of the 2nd Millennium AD. The people there were very backward, and I found it very easy to explain away my strange ways and mode of speech. I came to be one of the main advisors and friends of the King at the time. I especially made friends with a highly intelligent friend of his, who he had installed as his main scientific advisor. Between my hinting and the obvious intelligence of this man we made life very much easier for the King to instill a sense of peace on his kingdom. Until he unfortunately had a falling out with one of the soldier types over a girl.

It was of course a magical time, and sooner or later I had to take my leave. Unfortunately one of the servant girls happened to spot me getting out of the bath and drying myself one day. I hadnt realised she's seen me until I had returned to the present time and a colleague of mine (a historical scholar no less) showed me an ancient tapestry which had been found, which seemed to depict amongst other things a semi naked man wearing a Knights helmet.

She said "One of the Knights pictured on the tapestry seems to be lightly clothed, as if he had just been taking a bath"

I told her "I WAS one of King Arthur's Knights"



"I'm 'Gawain Towelle'"
(kebabking - salad and garlic mayo pls, Thu 18 Dec 2008, 14:30, 1 reply)

Hello
Short-time lurker, first time poster.

Anyway, I would imagine the fact that I laughed at every single post in 'World's Sickest Joke' QOTW would get me some way there.

Also: The other day in the office one of my female colleagues was talking to another female colleague about her recent scan (she's about 13 weeks pregnant) and they were squealing and everything like girls do.
I turned to my mate and said "I don't know what all the fuss is about, she could lose it yet"

Be gentle
(porkinator is a Rock n Roll nerd!, Thu 18 Dec 2008, 14:22, 2 replies)

Pics will be posted on Flikr
from last night's gash in the next few days.
I felt shit this morning btw,
(Bear Pookie The Frankly Challenged. Halloween is coming to town., Thu 18 Dec 2008, 14:20, Reply)

no one has started the last buisness this week...........SO
Last last lasty last
change the QOTW
also I wonder when it`ll change next week being christmas and all that
(Nahla, Thu 18 Dec 2008, 14:10, 5 replies)

Quick and dirty
Not really a moment that will send me to Hell, but certainly a moment where I had the devil in me.

Laying in the arms of a friend with benefits last night, after a brief but pleasurable exchange of bodily fluids, we were engaging in small pillow talk.

The evening had come about after I had told her "you give the best oral sex ever". I apologised for saying something that sounded slightly sleazey, but that it was a fair reflection of her talents. "Thank you," she replied, "I take it as a compliment more than anything."

So when she upped the ante with the pillow talk by looking me in the eye, still glowing slightly in the post coital haze, and asked me completely seriously: "So how was the blow job?" with a surprisingly self satisfied and confident smirk, I'll need some kind of forgiveness for looking slightly into the distance, as if trying to find the right words to describe her talent, and then replying completely dead pan: "Hmmm... Average to above average tonight..." before turning back to her and looking her straight in the eye and continuing "... Could do better."

Bridge burnt, I think.
( SeasonTicketless is too often the statue, and rarely the pigeon., Thu 18 Dec 2008, 13:30, 1 reply)

P
I am going to hell according to everyone in my office.

A guys wife here is expecting a baby in January and we were discussing good names for it.

My suggestion was perfectly logical, given that it's going to be a 'Baby' and his surname starts with 'P'.

Ah well, can't please everyone
(Pickettywitchfinder General, Thu 18 Dec 2008, 12:52, 2 replies)

'signing' music videos.... is it just me or?
I just couldn't help howling with laughter that they actually 'sign' music videos? I was doubled over with laughter at the signing and the moves the woman was doing to that rnb 'tune' 'wanna make love in da club' or some other such shite at some ridiculous hour one saturday night / sunday morning.

**edit** I was a bit pissed at the time...
(iwantmybed Is counting down the hours till home time on, Thu 18 Dec 2008, 12:48, 5 replies)

I once sent
a rather filthy, rude and downright saucy txt to a one time love interest (sorry; couldn't think of a better term). I was rather surprised not to receive his usual instant, eager beaver response.

Turned out he'd received it at his mate's dad's funeral.

Oops.
(Eldoofus, Thu 18 Dec 2008, 12:37, Reply)

I just
...bought a Sitar.

I touched it with my foot this morning by accident, and one of my kids stepped over it on the way to the kitchen.

Apparently, according to Indian tradition, I will now be burned in hell for displaying lack of respect to whichever is the God of Sitars.


...or something like that.
(dchurch bah, Thu 18 Dec 2008, 12:34, Reply)

The cinema is a gateway for the hellbound
Me and my good buddy were sitting in a packed cinema thoroughly enjoying Shaun of the Dead. At one point there was a Zombie in a wheelchair. I have never laughed so hard, yet so silently, in all my life. I looked across at my buddy, and she was also silently pissing herself at the Zombie in a wheelchair, which then made me laugh even more.

People were beginning to notice and give us strange looks. "Why are those two girls laughing at the Zombies? People are getting eaten!" I could hear them thinking. I had to get out of there. So me and my buddy left the cinema, and went outside to have a good ol' guffaw about the Zombie in a wheelchair. It still makes me laugh now.

A Zombie in a wheelchair. Genius.

Right, off the hell.



First post after some short-term lurking. Be nice
(Beacon, Thu 18 Dec 2008, 12:31, 3 replies)

return to sender.
A christmas card arrived through my letterbox last week - It was addressed to a guy that used to live in my flat but moved out months ago. Obviously i opened the card,thinking that a christmas card might brighten up the place a little. There was a 20 pound note in the card. It read 'Have a merry christmas and a happy new year, love Nana xxx' In the scrawliest handwriting ever. Luckily she wrote a return address on the back of the envelope.


I spent the 20,put the envelope in the bin and the card in the living room.

My reasoning being that i'd never get round to writing a note and posting the money back to Nana before christmas and would feel silly doing it in January.And im a greedy bastard.
I didn't even need the money - it just saved me a trip to a cash point one night.

Hell, indeed.

Length? All the way from Scotland to London by her majesty's royal postal service.
(BarryChuckle, Thu 18 Dec 2008, 12:23, 4 replies)

My mate was a bit of a ‘one with the ladies’…

I was always insanely jealous…after all I'm better looking than him, better dressed, have more money…

What did he have that I didn’t?

The answer was…a pick up routine based on total cheesiness.

He just approached a beautiful girl, made ‘clawing’ gestures with his hands and pretended to growl…a la Austin Powers.

To me it seemed utter crap – but it worked every time – the babes were round him like flies round shite!

Well, one day, I went to a bar and tried his technique for myself…I approached an attractive young lady, did the gesture and made the sound.

The girl could hardly contain herself!” – she was all over me! Result!

So I did it again…and another girl just walked right up to me and fired in!

So I tried it again…but this time it backfired…because women young and old, attractive and fugly started to approach me…then men…and animals….they all rushed up to me and wanted a piece of my particular love action.

In a panic I called my mate, explained my situation and asked him what I should do…

He said: “I think I know what your problem is…

You’re ‘Grrr'-ing too well"

/coat.
( Pooflake braces for an onslaught..., Thu 18 Dec 2008, 12:05, 13 replies)

Corrupting children
Christmas shopping the other week, I popped into a branch of Early Learning Centre to pick up some things for my youngest relatives. In amongst the shelves of generic noisy toys and building bricks, there were the tacky TV tie-ins; perfectly ordinary toys wrapped into the shape of a popular children's TV character, to make them sell better.

One such example was the magnetic drawing board. This device, a small writing surface which can be turned black with a magnetic pen, and whitebeige again by wiping the whole thing with a lever on the toy's back, was covering the front of a character from In The Night Garden. Macca-Daisy, or Upsy-Pacca or something. Whatever. The blue one with the red rag.

Naturally, I did what any adolescent trapped in the body of a 31-year-old would do, and drew a massive cock'n'balls on the drawing board, in a roughly anatomically correct position (as anatomically correct as you can be when your schlong reaches half way up your chest. Hello, ladies). I then replaced Macca-Packing on the shelf, behind an unadulterated version of himself, so that his Ninky-Nonk would remain undisplayed until the next person in the shop removed the toy at the front of the shelf.

The only mitigating circumstance which may save me from the fiery place is that the shelf in question was over a metre from the ground, so the kiddywinks won't be the ones to find it.


I think I've dealt with the length already.
( le brian, Thu 18 Dec 2008, 12:00, 8 replies)

Dad would have been proud.
Finally, a QOTW so perfect for me that it has snapped me out of my habitual procrastination and forced me to register to share my story.

2008 has been a shit of a year. I lost my Grandmother at the end of March and then my dear (not so) old Dad in June, meaning my poor Mother became an orphan and a widow in the space of three months. A messy business all round.

The task of organising Dad’s funeral rolled around, made easier by the fact we had got a bit of match practice in a few months earlier, and I decided I wanted to write a eulogy for him.

As an aside, Co-op Funeral Services (other funeral directors are available) do not feel it is appropriate to offer a loyalty card system for funerals.

The funeral, at Dad’s request, was to be a happy occasion, with bright clothes, rock and roll music and a big party afterwards.

The day came; we arrive at the crematorium in the cars, piped in by a lone bagpiper. There are literally hundreds of people stood waiting. I’m cacking it. I’m not the best public speaker, and the thought of standing up in front of a capacity crowd, combined with the emotion of the day was not one I relished.

So, yer man in the dress does the God bothering bit and then it’s my turn to speak.

I take a deep breath and begin to address the masses:

"This is the part of the service called the Eulogy; it comes from an ancient Greek word, (Dad always insisted we look up a word if we didn’t know what it meant) it means to give a speech praising someone. Eulogies can also be used to praise those that are still alive, and I would like to think that today is more about keeping alive the happy memories we all have of Dad, rather than focusing on the sadness of his passing."

It’s going well. Lots of people in the audience cooing and muttering things like, ‘Isn’t he brave’ etc.

… and then I got to this bit.

“I have Dad to thank for my dry, slightly dark, sense of humour. You could always rely on him to tell a most inappropriate story or joke.

Right now I am sure he would be telling the one about the boy who went into school one day and apologised to the teacher for not being there the previous day.

‘Sorry I wasn’t at School yesterday Miss, my Dad got burnt.’

The teacher says; ‘Oh, I’m sorry to hear that, I hope it wasn’t serious’

He says; ’They don’t fuck about at the Crem’ Miss!’”

I should have just got onto the conveyor belt and ridden it down with him.
(Mr_Wendel, Thu 18 Dec 2008, 11:56, 6 replies)

Pet Euthanasia
I am going to hell for this for sure. My dad's thankfully now ex missus had a dog. She loved the dog. She was so over the top about this fucking dog. Anyway, the dog was old and suddenly came down with a rather bad case of diabetes. The dog went blind, walked round and bumped into things, pissed and shit all over the place, was visibly petrified constantly, never daring to venture more than a foot from where it was shivering and cowering..

I personally thought, and so did my dad, (and he's a big dog lover) that the afore mentioned creature would be best dispatched from its mortal coil, for its own sake and dignity, and my sake and sanity at having to live in a house that was constantly being covered in dog shit and piss. (she point blank refused to take the dog to be put down)

I did what any decent person would do. I gave the diabetic dog a very big bar of chocolate. That didn't work, although it did make the dog a bit happier.

Plan B...replace the doggy insulin for a 'sugar solution' made up from icing sugar to look the same as the insulin....

That did the trick...very quick.

It also gave me a evil bit of pleasure, as I hated and still do hate the evil nasty bitch that was my old man’s ex, and the thing was...she injected the dog....oh how i smiled inside when she cried and cried over the dog.

I will burn for this. No doubt people will hate me....I don't care. It was better for the dog in the long run, and in a round about way got her back for screwing my head up!!!
(iwantmybed Is counting down the hours till home time on, Thu 18 Dec 2008, 11:52, 5 replies)

The 1st time i was going down on a girl
i thought "i'll show her i'm a modern man and up for anything", so i did of all things, "the shocker" for those of you not familiar with this technique, "2 in the pink one in the stink" "2 in the goo 1 in the poo"







it's not as fun when you don't have a goo :'(





needless to say that relationship didn't last long
(My name was taken by me Is Sleeping With Your Sister/ Daughter/ Mother On, Thu 18 Dec 2008, 11:50, 8 replies)

Drug induced nightmare
I was once prescribed some drugs which gave me particularly vivid dreams. On one occason I had a nightmare that I was in a fight to the death with a crazed nazi in an SS uniform.

I had the bugger pinned down and went straight for the throat. I was drawing back my right fist to land the killer blow for the free world when I heard screaming.

Female screaming.

I woke to find that not only did I have hold of ex-Mrs PJM by the neck, but I was moments from popping her right on the nose.

Whoops

I still think the whole thing was my subconscious trying to tell me something.
(Bicycle Repairman "you're also a bit of a wanker", Thu 18 Dec 2008, 11:40, 5 replies)

Apparently I'm destined to go to Hell
As I'm sure is fairly common, I love watching films. I have an extensive DVD collection that covers most genres, and go to the cinema as often as I can.

What relevance does this have to the QotW? Well, sure, I 've laughed at inappropriate moments in films (generally horrific death scenes), but the most that's elicited from others is a disapproving glare. No, my biggest crime against humanity, according to people with whom I've discussed, is this:

I didn't like 'Lost in Translation'.

I try not to mention this film amongst some of my friends, because they go all soppy and talk about it like it's God's loving smile immortalised in film. They all act as if this film has enriched their lives in ways they never thought possible, that each of its 102 minutes provides an orgasm for the soul.

It bored me. There's a lot of hanging around, he cheats on his wife, and it ends.

Whenever i make my viewpoint known, my friends look on me like they've walked in on me beating a nun to death with a sack of kittens. How could I find it boring? How can I not see the beauty?

Nothing happens! Why would I want to watch a film that's the equivalent of waiting for a bus?

I expect to get flamed, but I really didn't enjoy the film, and nothing is likely to change that. Merely having this opinion has apparently condemned me to the fiery pits of Hell.

Oh yes, I also have no desire to ever see Top Gun, I really like Vanilla Sky, and I thought No Country for Old Men had a shit ending.
( Labia Majora You keep on talking but it makes no sense at all, Thu 18 Dec 2008, 11:36, 16 replies)

It was worth it!
If I go to hell for this, I don't care.

Years ago when I got together with my alkie ex we had a night out at a country pub in Derbyshire. It was a beautiful starry summer night and we slept out in a field in our sleeping bags.

I must point out here that I didn't have any idea of what a lying drunken bastard he would soon show himself to be - it was all sweetness and light at that stage.

Back to the story. Apparently in the middle of the night I got up from my bag of sleep, kicked him in the head and broke his nose. Then I went back to bed.

Next morning he wakes up covered in claret and I have absolutely no memory of anything. I was asleep throughout!

I still maintain it was my subconscious trying to warn me about him. How I wished I had listened.

I have no remorse so - bring on the demonic hordes!
(misspiggy In danger of having to get a job, Thu 18 Dec 2008, 10:46, 11 replies)