Football World Cup 2002
Watched the England v. Brazil match at a fairly dingy pub in Leicester with a work colleague, who I knew to be a racist twat. Also in the pub that day were about 50 Gujerati Hindus, all wearing England shirts.

Initially my colleague Ray was uncomfortable to be surrounded by so many 'ethnics' but a few beers and free Indian snacks mellowed him slightly. Not long into to the game England scored and the whole place erupted. Most of the lads were immigrants to this country but there was genuine joy as they celebrated the goal by dancing on the tables and downing more lager.

At one point England's Emile Heskey who used to live near the pub came close to scoring and the place was in tumult.

Sadly Brazil equalised and deservedly scored a winning goal. As we were leaving the pub post match Ray reflected on what an enjoyable morning we'd had.

In fact he was moved to comment "What a great atmosphere, it's certainly restored my faith in the Pakis"

Wrong on so many counts.
(Barnetboy, Mon 25 Feb 2013, 17:02, Reply)

A shameless repost
The wife once introduced me to an event which had been a big part of her childhood; The Wisbech Sunday Market. This was a colossal car-boot sale held in deepest, darkest Fenland. Now, for the uninitiated, this part of the country is subject to a lot of lazy stereotypes about incest, suspicion of outsiders, chasing trains away with pitchforks etc, none of which I experienced in my time there. Much like any other town though, it does have its fair share of thick twats and people who stopped reading the Daily Mail because it had gone a bit too Lefty.

Anyhow, I was taken to this Sunday Market as the wife felt I should experience it at least once in my life. As we entered, I overheard something which set the tone for the day; A man in his 60s, moaning exasperatedly to his companion in a strong Get-Orf-Moy-Laarnd accent "What are we supposed to call them now, then?! Golly-people?"
(costas, Mon 25 Feb 2013, 16:26, 2 replies)

Went to stay at my aunts holiday cottage in France.
There I met her cockney neighbours who had bought a house and moved there from London. Apparently, the reason they left the UK was 'because of all the immigrants'
( DumbMonkey The penis mightier than the sword, Mon 25 Feb 2013, 16:23, 3 replies)

Few things are funnier than watching people get worked up on YouTube about what constitutes real metal.

( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Mon 25 Feb 2013, 16:18, 5 replies)

I can't be the only one enjoying the resignation of Stonewall's Bigot of the Year Cardinal Keith O'Brien
amidst allegations that he tried to have sex with the priests in his employ
( emvee cruor deo cruoris, Mon 25 Feb 2013, 15:49, 8 replies)

Mistaken bigotry
When I was at Uni one of my house mates was Eddie. Eddie is originally from Belfast and one of the loudest people on the planet. We were leaving to go to the pub and Eddie calls back inside to me "Get the fucking door key" to which a passing Somalian chap nearly shat himself and bolted down the street.
(Tugnut I got them all..., Mon 25 Feb 2013, 14:54, 5 replies)

moonbadger's post about not noticing colour reminded me of this...
Not really on topic, but semi-related. Some of you might remember that once upon a time the lovely Jessie was suspended from her job after being accused of "racist conduct", which came about when at a work do, her manager gave her some money and told her to get a round in. She then forgot one member of staff, Charity, who had gone to sit round the corner. A while later Charity complained that Jess had deliberately omitted her from the round because she was black.

At all the meetings, Jess noted how Charity could instantly tell you how many black/white/Asian/whatever members of staff were present at any one time, whereas Jess had to sit and think about who had been there.

I told her before the very first meeting, when the managers put it to her that she hadn't included Charity in the round because of her blackness, Jess should have said "Black? Charity? Is she?! I've never even noticed...", and seen how far she could have run with that line of defence.

(for those who are interested, after six weeks of suspension, during which time Jess was simultaneously:

-relieved to be away from work
-chuffed at getting Christmas off
-disgusted at the ridiculous allegation
-annoyed that she wasn't allowed to talk to her friends at work
-dismayed at how little management seemed to bother keeping her up to date with what was going on
-laughing at the incredulous response of the union rep when she explained why she was suspended
-and of course shitting herself at the thought of how fucked her career would be should she get sacked for racist conduct

...she was finally told that the matter was resolved in her favour and she could come back to work)
(Professor Kenny Martin Hmm? What?, Mon 25 Feb 2013, 14:43, 8 replies)

The clue's in the name
There's a pub on the outskirts of Brighton called the Travellers' Rest. For many years it had a sign by the door: "No Travellers".
(moon monkey is busy making memories worth repressing, Mon 25 Feb 2013, 14:02, 3 replies)

" ... and I can say that because I'm black/gay/Jewish/(insert name of group against which the bigotry is being expressed here)."

( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Mon 25 Feb 2013, 13:06, 7 replies)

I am NOT coloured!
Came the annoyed response from the black lad in our class at school. We didn't give a feck that he was black, he was a mate, that was that. Skin colour hadn't even entered our minds. We were 15/16 at the time and a tree-hugging-yoghurt -knitter supply teacher was taking us for our ( compulsory ) R.E lesson.
Our usual teacher was a top bloke and had introduced us to the faiths of others in a; on reflection, superbly balanced way. Not this wombat. 'People of colour', 'ethnic peoples', 'aboriginal people'. Patronise patronise. Paul had enough. He had a little outburst which still makes me chuckle. I have to paraphrase here.
I am NOT coloured!, I AM A NIGGER!. HE IS A FUCKING HAIRBAG ( me ), HE IS A FUCKING SKINHEAD ( another mate ), SHE IS A FUCKING JEW. IT'S WHAT WE FUCKING ARE SO SHUT THE FUCK UP.
The first and only time I ever heard Paul swear. He was livid. Up until that point, there had been no differences, we just never thought much about it. Kids don't.
She stormed from the room and was replaced by the Deputy Headmaster; a fine, balanced man. He asked what happened and we explained. His response was a smile, a little chuckle, a 'good man' comment to Paul and we spent the next half hour discussing his favourite sport, rugby.
We aren't born racist pigs, we don't really notice. To this day, I find the PC insidiousness abhorrent, and that was the start for me.
( moonbadger Doesn't judge a fish by its ability to climb trees, Mon 25 Feb 2013, 12:58, 9 replies)

Somerset, 1972
My family are all Somerset farmers and have moved about five miles in five hundred years. My dad was in the first generation of our family to go away to university, where he met my mum.

One time during their engagement, Dad was back on the farm. A local working alongside him said suspiciously, "I hear you're getting married. To someone... from away!"

My mum's from Nottingham (and is white).
( teedyay, Mon 25 Feb 2013, 12:42, 5 replies)

In which I fail to grasp bigotry
Back in the 80s, my English teacher was on a mission against prejudice of all kinds. All the books she had us read touched on it in some way or another.

One book we studied was The Great Gilly Hopkins. A fostered white girl lives next door to a blind black guy, from whom she steals some money. Her foster mother finds out and makes her apologise. She hates being forced to be friendly with "the type of person she'd been brought up not to have anything to do with".

I remember marvelling at this, thinking, "why on Earth would you bring someone up not to associate with blind people!?"

(I lived in Somerset, where I'd set eyes on (I think) five non-white people by the age of 15. I was blissfully unaware of the concept of racism.)
( teedyay, Mon 25 Feb 2013, 12:33, 3 replies)

Just because you're published doesn't mean ...
I work at a large UK university and some of the bigotry I've seen from supposedly learned Academics is astonishing. In my first year I attended an Equality and Diversity legislation course because, like most attendees, I was going to be interviewing for the first time and it was compulsory. However, there were at least two people there because they were "just interested", by which they meant they wanted to express their views on political correctness and debate UK employment law with the trainer.

The best/worst bit was when we got to what's now called genuine occupational requirements. The example given was that a casting director for a soap opera could legitimately state that, in casting a new child role in a family, the actor should be the same race as the actors playing the parents. This did not go down well with the Engineering professor in attendance, who hit the peak of his grandstanding proclaimed:

"Well, that's just ridiculous! You don't need a black actor to play a black role! A white actor could simply black up!"

The shocked looks from all but one other person didn't stop him from looking around the room, nodding and looking extremely pleased with himself. I expect he's retired now, enjoying repeated viewings of "Birth of a Nation".
( The Vomiting Hitchhiker Mephistopheles is such a mouthful in Manhattan, Mon 25 Feb 2013, 12:00, 17 replies)

She was doing Women Studies, and god only knows why she was going out with me, but she was really fit, so I didn't care.
Having had her mate visit, who had come into my room, seen the Union Flag I'd nicked at cadets hanging in the corner, and asked me why I had "A Nazi flag hanging in your room?", I finally knew the relationship was over when, as the finale to a rather shouty argument, she roared, "Oh my GOD! You're just! So! Fucking! MALE! ARRRGH!"

I didn't know whether to apologise or thank her.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Mon 25 Feb 2013, 10:36, 5 replies)

He can't be racist......
I was once at a friend's birthday party. I was chatting with a group of the birthday boy's colleagues- some I'd met before, some I hadn't, and said something that could be taken as racist is life was like a poorly written Channel4 sitcom that revolved around awkward, somewhat forced situations. Like 'A pint of the BLACK stuff', or 'I'm hungry. I could MURDER AN INDIAN.'

Whatever I'd said it prompted one of the group to jokily say something along the lines of 'Careful mate, that could be a bit racist!'

This prompted someone else to say 'Nah, Walkie Talkie ain't a racist. He's married to a fucking gook.'

Given the tone of the conversation, I had assumed that this too was meant in jest, but it turns out that he was actually a cunt, and was in trouble at work for repeatedly calling an Indian customer at work 'Reg Varney'.
(FartThroughAWalkieTalkie wished you were dead in ditch on, Mon 25 Feb 2013, 8:10, Reply)

Blackface
I had a landlord who was originally from Alabama, but I never appreciated how racist he was until I visited his mountain cabin, and poked my head where I ought not to have looked: a library filled with segregationist literature. A whole universe that I didn't even know existed opened up. Apparently the American South in the civil rights years had a bustling pulp book industry detailing just how evil the 'Nigras' were, and the shelves groaned with these titles. Aside from this foible, he was a perfect gentleman, and race seldom came up.

Except sometimes, by accident. One day, I was trying to puzzle out what I thought might be a blocked carburetor jet on my VW Bug, so I inserted my lips into the top of the carburetor, formed a seal, and blew into it. My landlord approached with a question. When I turned towards him, he stood back, aghast, and pointed at me. The carburetor had left a perfect black ring on my white face, right around my lips - just like a blackface parody - except in photonegative. I stood there in irritated incomprehension, asking "What - what's so funny?" as he doubled over with gales of laughter.

My understanding is that they had a big fire on that mountaintop a few years ago. If the library didn't survive, it's history's loss, but society's gain.
(Perv With A Dog had his eyes pecked out by scrub jays on, Mon 25 Feb 2013, 4:18, Reply)

"They are NEGROES!"
The first time my mum saw black people was when she was a little girl during the war. She'd just come out from watching a Tarzan movie, including an epic gorilla-v-African tree battle scene, and chanced upon the local US army camp where black troops had just arrived. They were sitting round behind a barbed wire fence and in her slightly addled 8 year old head she had the notion that the yanks were suddenly recruiting apes or something. When one of them offered her some gum, she totally lost it and ran home.
Upon arriving, she gasped to her mum "The yanks got niggers down the base!" Her mother gave her a huge slap across the face and said "You are never to call them that vile word again - they are NEGROES!"
Mum never forgot that, and to this day is perfectly polite to black people.
Or as she still calls them, Negroes.
(Mr Gronk, Sun 24 Feb 2013, 21:33, 4 replies)

Curry curry curry...
I once stayed in a little B&B in a quaint little village not too far from Slough, run by an elderly couple. Not quite your average B&B, more that they had an oversized house and rented out their several sizeable spare bedrooms, in a village with a single pub, the single shop not open after five and no takeaways.

They seemed very pleased when a nice, respectable, reasonably dressed, well spoken young chap turned up at the door, and we were chatting for a little while, passing the usual pleasantries whilst going through the usual formalities of keys, breakfast time and so forth.

The lady suddenly said to me, "Oh, it's so good that you came here rather than going to a bed and breakfast in Slough!", to which I chuckled politely before she carried on, "You could have been eating curry for breakfast!"

A bit shocked, I paused for just long enough to register my disgust at the casual racism and responded, "I quite like curry for breakfast.", probably (hopefully) dispelling all her first impressions of me. I'm sure she burned my toast the next morning on purpose.
(MrOli is ugly, but in the morning you will be sober, Sun 24 Feb 2013, 19:56, Reply)

Coloured. A poem about the futility of racism and other stuff which is all highly on topic. Honest. I never said it was good though...
I love all sorts of people
I find it rude to judge
I love coons and even men
Who pack each other’s fudge.

I like gooks and even japs
Lesbians and spacks
Wogs and chogs and nogs and frogs
Pakis, nips and blacks.

I like micks and even spicks
They all are decent fellows
And I don’t have a problem with
The chinky slit eyed yellows.

If people are intolerant
I’ll kick ‘em out of town
Cos I love everybody
Even Asians what are brown.

But the lanky Na’vi wankers
And short-arse twat Smurf runts
Can all fuck off to where they came
The fucking shit blue cunts.
(SigourneysBeaver took off and nuked the entire site from orbit on, Sun 24 Feb 2013, 19:29, 3 replies)

I was talking to a Scottish Nationalist on a messageboard.
She hates the English, because of what happened several hundred years before anyone alive today was born.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Sun 24 Feb 2013, 15:27, 26 replies)

Table Monners
As an impecunious music student, I and some chums played string quartet gigs for functions, dinners, weddings etc. One rather sumptuous affair had perhaps the godfather of the modern-day bigot as guest-of-honour, the Very Reverend Doctor Ian Paisley.

We were positioned behind, and a little to the right of the top table, and from this discreet vantage point were able to see how this formidable one-man bible-bashing-blitzkrieg conducted himself amongst the genteel.

Looking from left to right along the backs of the honoured guests, my eyes stopped at the area below Dr. Paisley's seat. There was more food down there than there was on his plate. I wondered how was it possible that a man of the pulpit, and whom God, in His infinite wisdom had provided tenfold in the gob department, was able to miss?

A little later whilst playing Tchaikovsky's sensual and supremely peaceful Andante Cantabile from his first string quartet, we heard the great voice itself, booming down the table towards his daughter:

"RHONDA!! ARE YOO GAWNTA EAT THAWT ROLL?... WELL PAUSS IT UPTA YER DAWDDY"
(roysin, Sun 24 Feb 2013, 10:55, 4 replies)

Does it make me a bigot that all of the following
Women
Children
Blacks
Asians
East Asians
South Americans
North Americans
Jews
Christians
Muslims
Atheists
Buddhists
Europeans
Scots
Irish
Welsh
Tall people
Fat people
Short people
Thin people
Afrians
Scientologists
Disabled people
Mentally ill people
Sane people

EDIT: Australians

And everyone else

Are barred from my shed?
( Fucking hell Jeff I am not a robot, Sun 24 Feb 2013, 8:35, 8 replies)

Even kikes and ragheads and spastics and darkies and queers and mongs and slants and women and other assorted untermensch think I'm LOVELY.

( stuj (^(^;;^)^) GO TEAM SPIDERS!(^(^;;^)^), Sun 24 Feb 2013, 8:18, 17 replies)

In which I am a racist cunt.
I went to a fairly elite all-boys private school.
At one point a young man from South Africa arrived halfway thu the year. His name was Tom and he had the ruddy complexion of those of British descent. With a tow-headed shock of almost white, blonde hair.
Now my dads family has it's roots as Afrikaners and I was born and raised in Zambia so I was no stranger to white Sarf Arfikans.
So I immediately called him "Kaffir". Now altho this term is really racist it was meant clearly as a joke - here is this 6 ft. rugby playing, blonde haired, blue-eyed young fella who is as far removed from being black as is possible.
Tom got the joke, didn't really like it but as he was aware that I was giving him shit he took it on the chin from me. (Remarkable how Aussies and South Africans have a similar outlook and propensity for shit-stirring that seems somewhat deficient in many other nationalities).

That is until one day our resident class ginger - "Bluey" Jefferieson decided to join in.
I had just strolled into class (late as usual). "Hey kaffir, howzit?" I ask Tom. "Yar, net bed." says he in his almost guttural accent. Then Bluey chimes in "How'd you go at the game on the weekend, Kaffir?"
The class room goes very quiet and almost all eyes swing around to Tom. I'm looking at Bluey shaking my head slowly. Tom gets up slowly and advances on Blue. "Wit the fark did yew jist call mi?" he asks. Bluey falters and suddenly realises that he has fucked up monumentally.
"Oh sorry Tom, I just....." the words die in Blue's throat as he sees the glint of what he thinks is murder in Tom's eyes but is actually Tom trying desperately hard not to piss himself laughing.

Tom only stayed at our school for about a year before he got expended and ended up heading off to go and train with the All Blacks Training Squad in New Zealand of all places. About a month before he left he got word from RSA that his sister had given birth to a healthy baby boy.
I took him aside one day at school and told him (loudly enough for anyone else to hear) - "Hey Kaffir, you realise that your sister having a bub makes you 'Uncle Tom'?"
(Misery McUglywife an attention seeking sociopathic fuckstain., Sun 24 Feb 2013, 7:44, 9 replies)

I come here for the benefits
I worked with a guy who was half Iraqi. His name is Wahab, but he goes by the name of Dave. He came to the UK as a teenager, became an officer in the merchant navy, and when I met him he was working in IT. One day he let on that he had been on some kind of black ops thing in Iraq with the Gurkhas, but he didn't make a big deal out of it.

In short, a good bloke.

He lives in a small town in East Yorkshire.

He told me he was in the pub with a number of friends in said town, when some racist bloke came up to him and said "What are you doing in a small town in East Yorkshire?"
Dave put on his worst accent, and said "Well, I just come over from Calais. I come here for the benefits, you know?"
Racist bloke gets angrier.
"I only been here one week... and they give me council house."
Racist bloke gets even angrier.
"Is big house! Is good, because next month my four wives and fifteen children come."
Racist bloke explodes. Dave's friends all laugh at him.
(Bob the Builder killed Captain Alex, Sun 24 Feb 2013, 5:28, 4 replies)

(woocfot friends with Sacha Distel, Sun 24 Feb 2013, 3:27, 2 replies)

I used to drink in The Czech and Slovak Bar in North West London fifteen years ago
The landlord (Big Bob) escaped from Prague in 1968 by getting a job at the airport, getting friendly with the security dogs and finally stowing away in the cargo hold of a Boeing to London.
Thirty years on and we're all sat around having a proper piss up in his bar on a Sunday evening when a few Albanian lads in tracksuits run in, turn the lights off and start dishing out blows indiscriminately. Fortunately they served pints in old school thick glasses with handles, so myself, Bob and his fit daughter managed to give us good as we got and fought them out of the gaff.
Turns out Bob had been getting threats for a while from the local branch of the Albanian mafia (one of whom lived upstairs in my block; I'm happy to testify he was a wife beating cunt). Taking the not unreasonable stance that it wasn't worth calling the police, Bob stuck a sign up on the door of his bar reading "Due to repeated incidents, sorry but no Albanians".
Couple of weeks later and two women from Camden Council arrive, telling Bob in no uncertain terms that his sign is illegal under race relations legislation. Bob immediately takes the sign down.
Next day a new sign appears reading "Due to repeated incidents, sorry but NO ALBANIANS and NO LESBIANS from the council".
Occasionally I have to tell my son that his Grandad Bob is a bit extreme in his reactions...
(woocfot friends with Sacha Distel, Sun 24 Feb 2013, 1:06, 13 replies)

I went to school with a guy called Raymond.
A sweet guy, he was smart as whip - he could calculate stuff in his head that most of us couldn't make heads or tails of even with workings and a calculator.

Raymond wasn't exactly beaten by the ugly stick. Until puberty came along. Many of us were afflicted by an odd pimple - Raymond managed to score cystic acne. But there was 1 zit that took the cake.
Raymond started growing this thing on the side of his neck. It quickly grew from pustulent volcano into almost a boil. Eventually it grew a head. Literally.
The white head then grew features and eventually one day it spoke.

Now Raymond as I have said was a fairly mild mannered fellow - never mind "Boo" to a goose, he wouldn't whisper "Surprise!" to a goat.
His zit however turned out to be incredibly noisy, obnoxious and intolerant. It would shout abuse at anyone and everyone that it perceived was in any way even slightly different to itself and Raymond.

One day we were sitting in class copping a barrage of this bigoted shit when our headmaster, Mr. Goldberg-Shastri poked his turbaned head into our class, surveyed us all with narrow, slitted eyes and asked "Who was that shouting out such hateful bile?".
As a group we turned and pointed at the zit. "And who is he?" the headmaster asked.
As a group in unison we said - "Sorry Sir, He's Ray's Cyst."
(Misery McUglywife an attention seeking sociopathic fuckstain., Sat 23 Feb 2013, 23:59, 2 replies)