I’m afraid my hero of 2011 isn’t quite as noble as some of the ones I’ve read this week…

My hero of 2011 was just a child. An innocent little kid. And no, he doesn’t have leukaemia, the bad aids, any limbs missing, nor has he suffered any particular life trauma…(at least I don’t think so – I only met him once and never got to speak to him).

It was mid-December, and I was scrote deep into one of those not-quite-last-minute shopping trips round Tesco to get some buffet food etc before Christmas. It was one of those times when, as you bollock around the heaving lanes, you become aware of the embarrassing situation that you have unwittingly become part of a group of total strangers that are somehow ‘synchronised’ as you all proceed to stop, start, and snake around half a dozen aisles; tripping over each other and invading body space as you reach for the shelves.

Everybody was harassed. – Well, it wasn’t that long ago – you all remember what it was like.

Amongst our troupe of about 9 happy shoppers was a chav couple, some stressed blokes, an immensely hideous pretend-posh crone of a woman, a young mum, and this little lad, who was obviously pissed off about being in Tesco (considering Toys ‘R’ Us is next door), but behaving himself nonetheless.

As for this pretend-posh arsed bint though…you could tell that she considered herself borderline royalty - yet she didn’t possess even an ounce of class. I mean, In the name of the sacred love egg collection of Bob ‘King Dong’ Holness, this was only Tesco for fucks’ sake, not Harrods! how ‘la-de-da’ could she be? And besides, I know some real poshies and they’re alright, so I’m not saying there’s owt wrong with a touch of breeding and privilege etc when it’s handled correctly.

This pompous tart however - was just ‘stuck-up’ her own chutney clout to gargantuan proportions, Like an early forties, ‘Hyacinth Bucket’ sort of specification, with the full fur coat, make up that possibly required a cement mixer to help apply, hard-coiffed, bolted-on hair, whilst dripping with enough chunky gold to satisfactorily explain the question: ‘I wonder what happened to the fabled ‘Jingle Jangle jewellery’ collection, now that Jimmy Saville’s thrown a seven’?

The worst things about her though, were her Hoity-toity, spiteful voice, and her cuntish attitude. She was one of those – ‘whether it’s actually true or not, I’m better than you’ women that you tend to despise almost on sight. In the brief time I had spent in her company she had barged a couple of people out of the way (without an apology), grabbed a poor shop assistant (who reminded me of Justin Hawkins from the Darkness by the way, and who was desperately trying to stack shelves to keep up with demand) and made him traipse around after her for about 5 minutes as she fired questions like ‘Why do you call this ‘finest’? it’s ghastly!‘, before making the poor fucker sprint off and collect things for her.

As I write, it is now my suspicion that the hero boy’s mother must’ve been mumbling and complaining about this woman under her breath to inspire his act of heroism, so I should possibly share the award of ‘hero’ with her. Anyhoo, as we all trundled round, quite a few of us certainly shared a couple of those disapproving glances and rolled our eyes at the events as they occurred.

I suppose I should have said something. But I didn’t. I’m English – my whole ‘comeuppance’, and ‘putting people straight’ repertoire goes about as hard core as 'muttering under my breath', and the occasional ‘tut’. Yep, I’m a cowardly cock-rot.

So, as Lady Muck continued to saunter round and bully the poor haggard staff who were probably already fit to drop to their knees, we all entered the refrigerated meat aisle (which was abso-bastard-lutely heaving, meaning we were pushed even closer together – much to her disgruntlement).

In the kerfuffle that ensued however, the boy managed to slip just a few feet out of his mother’s reach...and right into the oncoming path of Miss ‘Cash for Gold’ 2011 (or should that be 'Gold for Cash'?)

I was only a couple of feet away from him, I could tell the boy was shy, but he seemed strangely motivated. This kid had something on his mind.

Fortuitously for all of us, he had also managed to perfectly time his approach with a slight lull in the hustle and bustle that was going on so that his activity could attract the interest of everyone in the nearby vicinity.

The young lad strolled up to Cruella DeVille’s less popular sister and he tugged very gently a couple of times on her fur coat. He then spoke with a voice so angelic that it would make Charlotte Church sound like Andre Villas Boas gargling nails and napalm.

'Excuse me...’ he whimpered politely, with a quizzical expression on his young face.

The woman clearly had no time for this – and she sternly glared down at him, looking down her nose (which, in her defence, I suppose she sort of had to do...he was a lot shorter than her after all)

“Yeeeeeees...?” she sneered.

The boy gulped slightly, then looked back directly into her beady eyes before asking quite clearly, with a combination of (accidentally) perfect timing and sublime innocence:

“......erm......Do your farts smell?”


...



The sheer hugeness of the shock-lol that erupted from the whole aisle seemed almost vast enough to blow the lamb chops clear into the fruit ‘n’ veg section. Some people tried, (and some succeeded) to stifle their giggles – fair play to them. I wasn’t quite as tactful.

The decibel-busting ‘Pfffffffft’ that launched forth from my cake-hole drenched half my trolley in dribble, and caused me to fire my chewing gum out with such vigour that I doubt it has actually landed yet.

Time then seemed to stand still as the grizzled harridan merely stood rooted to the spot. Everyone else either looked at the floor waiting for a reaction or suddenly made good their escape.

But what was the woman’s response? Well, unfortunately, she didn’t really have one – she didn’t get time. The lads’ poor mum had reached over and dragged him away before any further damage could be done. From his expression I think he actually had more to say…Of course, I can only imagine what - and I can’t decide if he was either going to ask her for tips, or inform her boastfully about the monumentally smelly guff that had been dropped by some clearly talented anal trumpeter near the cereal aisle.

To be fair, as I looked at both women, it was almost a dead heat between who was the more gobsmacked – The woman on the wrong end of this quite phenomenal question, or the boy’s mother – whose scarlet face of burning embarrassment was about to start frying the beef on the fridge shelves.

The rest of the shopping trip for me was a bit of a blur…but I remember it was mostly spent by me looking like an even bigger twat than usual as I staggered around, semi-helpless, pushing a badly weighted trolley about…and struggling to see where I was going due to having to wipe the tears streaming down my face. I think I may have popped my spleen.


So that gentle reader, is why, of all the worthwhile candidates...that the anonymous young boy of Tesco is my Hero of 2011

And as for the Villain? – Oh I don’t know. Life’s too short to hate…Pick your own. Happy new year.
( Pooflake braces for an onslaught..., Wed 4 Jan 2012, 16:29, 14 replies)

Mario Balotelli
...he might just scoop both awards, but he's certainly my hero of the year.

While British professional footballers are blowing their millions by behaving like utter twats, here is a man who has bought a Maserati and parked it in several dozen ridiculous places, including halfway through another car. This is the man who visited a womens' prison 'just to see what it was like', and when asked by police why he was carrying £5,000 simply said "because I'm rich". This is the man who wore a Milan shirt while an Inter player just to see what reaction he'd get.

It's a man who goes to his local curry house and has a sword-fight with rolling pins, who puts a grand behind his local bar before signing a few autographs and going for a kebab. The man who throws money at beggars and his local churches, and picks up truants from the streets before lecturing them and driving them back to school. It is, of course, the man who celebrated November 5th by setting off a few fireworks in his bath before becoming the face of firework safety, and the man whose garden is a quad-bike racetrack.

And let's not forget the legendary 'failure to put on a bib' video.

Somehow, Mario Balotelli has managed the right combination of cash-squandering antics to make him a cult hero and not utterly dislikeable (qf. Terry, Cole, Rooney etc). It helps that he's not done anything that is utterly loathsome and that he's a terrific, watchable striker. The new clown prince of football, he is by far the best thing to happen to the game for some time.
( ousgg is not seeking approval, Sun 1 Jan 2012, 1:59, 3 replies)

Rupert Murdoch
The man is a lizard. Not in the David Icke sense, but in the morally reprehensible, looks-a-bit-like-one sense.

That he could sit in front of an inquiry and claim to have no knowledge of the phone hacking going on at HIS newspaper, when he is renowned in the media world for being utterly underhanded at every turn and get away with it makes my fucking blood boil. He represents a kind of social cancer of ignorance, which I feel is genuinely holding the progress of civilisation back. He has almost single-handedly created an atmosphere where more emphasis is placed on so-called "celebrities" and their private lives than on the things that make you a fundamentally decent human being. Like looking up to doctors, soldiers, scholars and scientists, rather than winners of reality TV shows, and fake, plastic Hollywood stars.

It's left us with a country full of idiots who genuinely feel that in order to be a success in life, you only have to apply to go on some shitty talent show. I was on a train a few days ago, and overheard a conversation where one guy was actually talking about going on Dragon's Den as though it was a legitimate way to start a business, and not just some shitty television show where 90% of people who apply are exploited for entertainment value, and nothing else.

People don't feel that they have to EARN anything any more, and so we're left with this undeserved sense of entitlement.

And it's Rupert Murdochs fault.

Him and that ugly Ginger bitch he called his chief editor too.
( PMGT -Bacon., Mon 2 Jan 2012, 16:02, 19 replies)

Me!
Since no one else will nominate me - I nominate me for my own hero, and my own worst enemy.

Ex walked out on me (moved in with the village bike, who lived across the road from us) when I was 4 months pregnant with our second child (who is disabled) - that child is now 16, my oldest is 18. For the last 16 years I have raised my children on my own - they are good natured, well balanced, well mannered, socially adept and thoroughly lovely kids. Since their father had no input in their upbringing whatsoever (his choice), since I have no contact with my own family (bunch of bastards - my dad was the only decent one but he died a long time ago), and since I have home educated them for the last six years, I take sole credit for this.

Throughout the last 16 years I have spent minimal time on benefits (it's soul destroying being on the dole) - I worked full time for the first 10 years and then went part-time to be able to home educate effectively.

We've moved house a few times in the last 16 years too, again all organised and carried out alone - fuck paying removal company fees, I hired, drove, packed and unpacked the van on my own.

So fuck the single parent haters - not all of us are lazy chavscum dole scroungers.

So yeah, blowing my own fucking trumpet here - I'm pretty damned good, the results speak for themselves.


And my own worst enemy? I'm 48 years old, I have diabetes, arthritis in my hands, an underactive thyroid, and asthma. I neglect myself terribly, constantly forget to take my pills, smoke like a train, don't eat properly, am overweight and barely get any sleep.

The kids are older now though, and I've decided for my New Year's resolution that I'm going to spend more time and effort on myself. I think I deserve it.
(Freakmandu, Fri 30 Dec 2011, 23:00, 28 replies)

Predictable? Oh yes indeed...
Insincere apologies in advance to all of you who are tired of hearing about "me and my dead girlfriend". Tough shit: suck it up, fuckwits.

Anyway, this isn't really about Jess, per se, but she's involved.

All of 2010 post-May feels like it was taken up with landmarks: a week, a month, six months since the accident. Going back to work, going back to full-time, first band practice, first gig; many many firsts. I had a trip to America in December, then it was Christmas, then New Year, finally it was Purplestock month, and then on the 30th it was all over. All of a sudden the only landmark I could see ahead was the anniversary of the accident.

The months stretched before me, as did the years, all without Jess. I'd been drinking a lot anyway, and sticking anything I could find up my nose (massive drugs lol); it became my only crutch.

By April I was drunk and/or stoned pretty much every day, it was starting to affect my job as I was too tired to work properly and I'd started to retreat from my friends - making excuses about being busy or already planning to be out with other friends when I was invited out anywhere. Truth was, I had a night planned with my Xbox, my mate Sailor Jerry and whatever I'd bought that week (online MCAT replacements mostly, I didn't really have the contacts to get much else).

Then in May Paulette came up to see me - for those of you who don't know, she's one of my oldest friends, I've known her since I was 20. I won't go into the details of how it all happened, but we're engaged now, getting married in 2013 if all goes according to plan. I truly believed that without Jess I'd never be happy again, but I am; and it feels really good to have something to smile about. It's taken a while but I feel like myself again now, not a hollow imitation, and that's all thanks to Paulette. Without her I honestly believe that I wouldn't be here now to write this.

So Paulette's my hero of 2011. Obviously.

As someone else has already said, I can't be bothered posting any villains: fuck 'em, they're not worth my time.

tl;dr version: my fiancée's my hero coz she saved my life :)
(Professor Kenny Martin Hmm? What?, Fri 30 Dec 2011, 16:24, 15 replies)

Hospital staff
To the hospital staff looking after my missus who is currently suffering a persistent and extremely painful affliction - hat tip to you all. Especially Nicky, who turned up unannounced on the ward today, pushing a wheelchair. She took the missus up to the top of the building and into a private office with a balcony looking out to the harbour. She had set up a telescope on the balcony to enable my lovely partner to sit in the sun, smell the sea, and watch the boats come up the river while she had a cup of tea.

In conversation I learned it was the first day of Nicky's holiday. That's how she chose to spend it.

Must have been the salt in the breeze that made my eyes itchy.
( enoughblueskyforsailorstrousers, Fri 30 Dec 2011, 4:03, 2 replies)

My heroes?
The people of Christchurch. I never thought I'd be nominating my own countrymen as heroes, but what very typical kiwis in Chch have endured since February has let me amazed. I was moved to tears watching people risking their lives to get victims out of rubble. And the students of Canterbury University, previously considered a shower of boofheads by many, volunteered in their hundreds to do clean-up, not once but after every aftershock. I wouldn't be surprised if half the continuing tremors were caused by the citizens' gigantic balls bashing together. Thank you Christchurch.
(Mr Gronk, Sun 1 Jan 2012, 7:04, Reply)

Sky's "Psychic Sally"
...for building her private fortune from lying to the gullible and emotionally vulnerable. And BSkyB for perpetuating, glamourising and adding credibility to her act.

Grrrr...despicable woman!

It is a shame that the broadcaster doesn't feel morally obligated to precede the show with "WARNING: All credible evidence indicates that this programme is a load of Billy Bollocks."

That Derek Acorah. He's another one.
(Super Jet Shoes, Sat 31 Dec 2011, 15:10, 4 replies)

Local Heroes
Although I've got a lot of heroes and villains from the wider world most have been mentioned so rather than repeat those - here's some of my local heroes.

First group of heroes are the members of the local coastguard station at Stornoway who were out and about on Christmas day in 70 mph winds (the helicopter was going backwards at times).

The RNLI guys for going out in force 12 hurricane force winds for days at a time. I can't even stand up in a force 10 but to be out in a boat with 15 meter high waves is a level of bravery that I just don't have.

The local vet. It might seem odd to praise a vet but this is the guy who's out delivering sheep at gone midnight in howling gales and horizontal rain. He's also the guy who refloats whales which makes him a hero in my book.

Villains, the MCA (Maritime and Coastguard Agency) for attempting to close down the coastguard stations, getting rid of the emergency towing vessels and generally showing a complete lack of understanding about how dangerous it is out at sea and just not giving a shit about anything outside of London (the Minister for Shipping is the MP for Hemel Hempsted FFS I mean he really understands what affects the sea).

SSE Power Distribution. For the six hour power cut on Christmas Day. Bastards.
(azgiles, Sat 31 Dec 2011, 0:32, 2 replies)

Hero: Takehiko Kusaba & NHK news teams
You won't know who this guy is, but he's a head honcho at Japanese broadcaster NHK. I was present at a conference attended by other top media honchos when he showed a film of how NHK covered the immediate aftermath of the earthquake and tsunami, with incredible footage of how the broadcaster saved *thousands* of people through early warnings. Immensely powerful stuff of media workers risking their lives to warn others of the impending doom.

At the end, in front of a silent hall, he said "We saved many many lives. But we did not save enough. We are looking at ways we can change this."

Possibly the most humble thing I have ever heard. Even the most jaded and cynical of news hacks gave him a standing ovation.
( Scaryduck LIKES EGG, Fri 30 Dec 2011, 12:46, 1 reply)

Non-funny reply.
My wife.

About three years ago I met her as I was in the throes of ending a relationship that had gone very badly. At the time I was also working in a job that I did not like at all, one which bored me to tears and had no good points to it other than a paycheck.

Over the next six months we got to know each other quite well and fell into a good and supportive relationship. During that time I was laid off from the job I hated and went on unemployment benefits- enough to make ends meet, barely. And during that time she finalized her own divorce. It was a wildly tumultuous time for both of us, frankly.

After knowing her for a year we decided to set a date.

Consider what she was signing up for. I had had a rather lousy track record for romance, to put it mildly. I was now without a job, I had three kids in their mid to late teens, I had a house to pay for as well as hers... I was less than an ideal catch. The prospects for me picking up another job as an engineer were slim to none in the area I live in. Add to this that I was really starting to have a problem with serious depression, and it's a miracle that she didn't run screaming from me.

And yet we did indeed marry. Her house is now rented out, I now have only one kid living with me (and he's 20, so he's really not a kid anymore), and while I still don't have a true job, I pick up odds and ends of work through friends. She is happy to have my schedule free so I can accompany her on her work travels and be her assistant, and actually would prefer that I not get another full-time job. She has been infinitely supportive of me, and now that I have health insurance I have been to the doctors for my various medical issues.

Had it not been for her I would have been in an extremely ugly situation by now, and quite literally might not be alive.

Yes, I know this is a humor site and all, and that this is not a funny story- but I do feel that it's one that I should share. She truly has been a heroine for me.

*sits back and waits for the snarky commentary to begin*
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Thu 29 Dec 2011, 17:34, 16 replies)

I would like to nominate the vast majority of people in the UK as heroes
So much media attention is given to 'forrins' and people on benefits, but rarely is any recognition given to the majority that go to work every day, doing a job they can't stand to earn a living and provide for their families, even though they would probably be better of (financially) if they went on benefits. 

Well I recognise you. And you have my utmost respect. Go you!
(Frample Tromwibbler climbs an obstacle like old people fuck, Fri 30 Dec 2011, 15:30, 1 reply)

Mario Balotelli
Stop me if this has bindun - surely it has? Mario Balotelli. I couldn't give a monkeys about football, but this man is a hero. Far too many footballers are young idiots with too much money, who take that money and use it to be anti-social twatrags. Balotelli is, indeed, young, rich, and barking mad, but he's barking mad in a way that does not inconvenience anyone. Indeed, in most cases, quite the opposite - he seems to have a knack for calculated, entertaining craziness, often with a side-order of heartwarming "I wish I could have done that".

Nor for him the standard footballer practices of fighting in nightclubs, gang-raping teenagers or knocking off his team-mates wives or aging prostitutes. Oh no. When this man wants to meet some ladies, he and his brother go to meet ladies... by breaking into a women's prison.

As a young black man with a Maserati, he's not surprisingly stopped by the police quite a bit, and when one of them asked him why he had seven grand in cash on his passenger seat, his response was just "'Cos I'm rich." Said Maserati has been impounded many times and he's had to pay a five figure sum out in parking fines. This is the limit of his anti-social tendencies, though, it seems. When he was stopped for an autograph after a training session by a kid, he asked the boy why he wasn't in school. When the kid told him he was scared to go to school because of a bully, Balotelli put the kid, and his mum, in his Maserati, drove them to the school, and confronted said bully. Classic.

But my favourite story, better than setting his own house on fire with fireworks, better than going to the casino, winning 25 grand and giving a thousand away to a homeless man on the way home, better than wandering round Manchester in a Santa outfit handing out cash at random, better than almost anything I've ever heard, was the tale of the young man with the new house who has asked his mother to help him settle in. She sends him on an errand, a mission, a shopping trip. She gives him a list. On the list is boring stuff like bleach, an ironing board, cleaning supplies and such like. Balotelli is gone for a couple of hours. He returns, followed by a large John Lewis van containing... cleaning supplies? No. A giant trampoline, two Vespa scooters and a Scalextric. Mario Balotelli - you da man. I only hope he can keep this performance up in 2012 and he doesn't do anything more like normal footballers.
(SonofRojBlake, Wed 4 Jan 2012, 16:45, 3 replies)

Heroes - The Doctors, Nurses and Surgeons at Clatterbridge and The Countess Of Chester Hospitals...
who, despite the fact I was diagnosed with terminal cancer in the middle of 2010, have kept me alive and still feeling pretty good in to 2012. I can't thank them enough. Oh yeah, and Jackie my Macmillan nurse who's worth her weight in gold.
Villains? All enemies of the NHS, you know who they are, the cunts.
( Lord Kronos Go Team Pachyderm, Tue 3 Jan 2012, 20:18, 13 replies)

Heroes
those lovely little chocolates you get in a big tin at christmas.

Villains

whichever cunts ate my heroes.
( Smash Monkey lowering the tone of the whole internet, Tue 3 Jan 2012, 15:09, 4 replies)

My mum
My mum's not very well.

We've had a bit of a rollercoaster of a year as she was diagnosed with terminal cancer after beating it a couple of years ago.

She's been given days to live a couple of times but beats the odds and is still here 8 months later.

She deteriorated quite quickly and was in and out of hospital getting various treatments. Her breathing got so bad that she became bed ridden and rather muddled (not surprising as after this incident she had almost 6 litres of fluid drained from her lungs).

During one of these muddled moments, mum stirs from her bed and announces "It's a shame Thatcher's not around any more"

This is it, we think. Our staunch socialist mum (who has demanded everyone at her funeral wear an item of red clothing and sing Fly the Red Flag) has lost it. She not only thinks Thatcher is dead but is uset about it.

"Mum," we say "Thatcher's still alive"

She stares at us, announcing "I know that. It's just a shame she's a shadow of her former self. Otherwise I'd be writing hate mail to her every day. It's not like they could lock me up for it now"

Legend!
( monkeyboyalpha jumping on the bandwagon since, Fri 30 Dec 2011, 12:43, 1 reply)

Hero:
My hero of 2011, for outstanding work in the field of the promotion of atheism, is serial rapture predictor, Harold Camping.

Fine work sir.
(Mongrel, Fri 30 Dec 2011, 8:20, Reply)

My nominations are
Hero: The penguin on Frozen Planet that waddled past Sir David delivering a piece to camera and just turned his head and said 'Good Morning' in penguin and then carried on. Regardless of David being from a different race and culture than himself, he was courteous and polite, a true beacon for us all.
Villain: That bastard of a liquorice torpedo that broke my tooth in half and cost me £350 to get repaired.
(TitanLX, Tue 3 Jan 2012, 17:23, Reply)

Celine Dion
I didn't hear her once this year. I don't know who to hail as a hero, her or her management. Who cares? everybody wins.


Villains: Any rapper who failed to shoot another one and deplete the sum total of these posturing fuckwits.
( Infidel , shit and wrong, Fri 30 Dec 2011, 15:30, 5 replies)

Hero of the year: Mohamed Bouazizi

The man who set fire to himself, and in so doing started the Arab Spring. That is true self-sacrifice, and although of course not the only factor behind the various uprisings, I think he deserves to be remembered as the man who acted as the catalyst.
(anvil, Thu 29 Dec 2011, 21:34, 11 replies)

Oh yes he is
Hero: Aladdin
Villain: Behind him
(roysin, Thu 29 Dec 2011, 20:56, 1 reply)

Without being too "Daily Mail"
I would say hero of the year (excluding all the people we don't know of who work tirelessly looking after others, in any capacity) would be the "Big Man" who kicked that scrote off the train in Scotland. Simply because places like trains, buses, cinemas, concerts etc are all too often full of wankers who don't know the basic concepts of correct social behaviour, which is designed (in most part) to encourage understanding and consideration for others. If we all grew a pair there would be no more chavs playing shitty music out of their phones for us all to hear, wankers talking during concerts or films, etc etc.

Villains: All the apologists for the unrest going on in Syria at the moment; the President and politicians who dismiss the talk of 5,000 civilian casualties as somehow acceptable. Ordering your troops to fire on or torture your citizens - I hope they get theirs, and then some, in 2012.
(TheImmortalJenkins, Thu 29 Dec 2011, 16:59, 13 replies)

My Hero - RVI Hospital
The surgeon who performed my wifes masectomy and reconstructive breast surgery after the devestating news she had breast cancer. This guy was so good he used her latisimus dorsi tissue in her back to form new breast tissue (no dodgy french implants) and remove 23 lymph nodes all through one incision. Amazing stuff and giving Fabcat the dignity and self confidence she was worried she would lose after the op.
Also, the anaethnatist who gave her (and I quote) "a tray of goodies" to calm her down before the op. Nice work fella. MK
(Fabcat&MK see nothing wrong with a little bump n grind, Wed 4 Jan 2012, 20:11, 10 replies)

Villains: Everyone who criticised the killing of Osama bin Laden.
I bet none of them would say that if it was their relative who'd died in the World Trade Center, and that was the only way they could be brought back to life.


EDIT: Yes, what an awful thing to say. Read it again.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Sat 31 Dec 2011, 7:58, 14 replies)

Steve Jobs
For showing everyone what happens when you choose quack remedies for cancer rather than getting proper treatment early. Don't be like Steve, people!
(lolwhites, Fri 30 Dec 2011, 20:47, 4 replies)

Maybe not hero's but definitely worthy of considerable respect
Stephen Lawerence's parents for their continual campaigning and pressure on government's of both main parties over the last 18 years to gain justice for their son.
( Fucking hell Jeff I am not a robot, Tue 3 Jan 2012, 22:14, 3 replies)

Last year's top villain...
...has really cleaned up his act this year, so I hereby nominate The Pope for hero of the year 2011.

Oh, silly me, no he hasn't. He's still a police-impeding child-abuser-enabling AIDS-promoting women-oppressing gay-hating poverty-inducing just-an-old-bloke-like-anyone-else-and-not-a-mouthpiece-of-the-almighty in a dress sitting on a golden throne.

With a silly hat.

Now who could have predicted that?
( Amish Information Systems hates misplaced, commas, Tue 3 Jan 2012, 18:46, 27 replies)

My manic depression
is the hero of the year.

EDIT: I mean villain.

EDIT: I mean hero.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Tue 3 Jan 2012, 3:14, 6 replies)

Hero: Christopher Hitchens
You don't have to agree with his opinions to appreciate someone being eloquently rude to twats for 40 odd years.
(benito vaselini no not that one, Mon 2 Jan 2012, 20:55, 2 replies)

Hero - Jimmy Saville
He finally did my "fix it" request.
( Halk, Thu 29 Dec 2011, 20:36, 1 reply)