Chris and the chair
I was on a night out with some friends in Colchester earlier this summer, and I was bored. I had to drive home, you see, and I was very tired. We were all in Yates when Chris decided he need another pint (he really, really didn't) and diappeared toward the bar. As he returned, I subtly slid his chair - one of those inexplicably tall chairs that go with the inexplicably tall tables they have in those places - backward about four feet. Chris carried on talking for a while, before attempting to sit down, pint still clutched in his hand.

He reached a sitting position... and carried on. I'll never forget the look on his face - it was the epitome of disbelief. He remained in a sitting position as he toppled very, very slowly over backward. He also held his pint in the standard "Upright, ready to drink" position. This meant that as he fell, the glass rotated by 90 degrees, sloshing a nearly full pint of carling right into his shocked face.

What made it even better was that he didn't realise that I had moved his chair - he thought that he had simply sat on thin air, thinking there was a chair there. He was cringing with embarrassment for hours...


(I did tell him eventually though - I'm not completely heartless)
( MatJ LOOK, Fri 18 Dec 2009, 23:49, Reply)

a load of bollards
my brother, who is a cunt, really doesn't like me. he never has. he has spent a lifetime torturing me. sometimes, though, i get my own back.
one winter, when i was about 8, it snowed really hard. all the kids were outside building snowmen, except my brother. he would wait until someone had finished building a snowman, then he would run over and kick it to pieces. i've always believed that what goes around comes around, so i set a little trap.
while he was inside having lunch, i was busy in the carpark. i built a lovely snowman. well, partly snow, but mostly iron bollard. it took me about ten minutes to cover the bollard completely and convincingly.
just as i finished my trap, my brother finished his lunch and came back outside, determined to deliver more reebok-related mayhem.
spying my snowman, he gleefully ran up to it and, despite my heartfelt pleas for him not to kick it, he drew back his foot and let fly.
the agonized scream that issued from his lips moments later made the 3-week grounding that followed completely worthwhile. frosty may have been broken, but so were 3 of my arse-hat of a brother's toes. i may not be strong, but i definitely got the brains in my family!
( Smash Monkey lowering the tone of the whole internet, Fri 18 Dec 2009, 22:46, 7 replies)

ice kids
last winter when the snow came to London, the local yoof had decided to amuse themselves playing in the street and hurling snowballs at passers by. I could see this going on and as I got further down, sure enough it was my turn to get bombarded with snowballs...

One of the kids scooped a massive block of snow from the top of a car and came running towards me to chuck it... only slipped and went arse-over tit on the icy road, massive snowball landing in his own face. to the laughs of the other kids...

hahahaha.... justice.
(robl, Fri 18 Dec 2009, 22:29, Reply)

whweyheye
BLU BLAYG AEGI GE*GY
(hieronymus bosch pcmechanic 4ver in ar harts, goodnite sweet angle, Fri 18 Dec 2009, 22:03, 5 replies)

Eyesight fail
When I was in college, my maths lecturer had really bad eyesight, not blind, but pretty close. Upside of this was various comedy moments such as writing on the wall by mistake instead of the whiteboard, and watching him trying to negotiate the tables and chairs while walking around the room.

Anyway, one day we were all sat down waiting for him to arrive, about 10 minutes after the lesson had started we were all getting excited at the prospect of no-one turning up and getting the next 45 minutes free. At this point in walks the caretaker for the college with a message "Pete has fallen down the stairs on the way to the lesson and has been taken home".

Queue 'Awww' and sad faces from everyone there, apart from me that is, I'm desperately trying (and failing) to hold back my laughter!

One of those moments where you really know you shouldn't laugh, but you just can't help it :p Also one of those moments where you really had to be there, but I'm post it anyway since I've written it now!
(tool, Fri 18 Dec 2009, 21:33, 3 replies)

Petrolhead Ha Ha
Today as I was driving in South East Kent. I was driving up to this roundabout when out of the corner of eye I saw this BMW M5 approaching the roundabout from the road to the left (ie I had priority) VERY fast I thought to myself " This will be close..........." "Oh Shit.......he's not stopping......" at which point I heard an almighty screech of brakes and an ominous CRUNCH as he lost the M5 on the icy road, Hitting and mounting the roundabout side on !!!!!

What this moron hadn't seen was the Police Patrol car 2 cars behind me, I got out of my van to be greetd by a torrent of abuse from this Moron which soon stopped when he saw the law getting out of their car and various other drivers getting out of their vehicles as well.

All I heard from the Policeman were the Immortal words "Is this your car si ......... I can smell alcohol, Have you been drinking sir ?"

He had to blow into the nice Policemans Bag and he was then offered a chance for a nice sit down in the back of their car while they pointed out the error of his ways !!!!!

I had to take a Breath test as well, which was just as well, I dont drink in the weekdays as need my licence for my Job.

According to the Policeman I spoke told me he was Going to be charged With Driving Under the Influence, Possibly Dangerous Driving and if that couldn't be made to stick, driving without due care & Attention !!!!

I think thats what he said but I had started to feel a bit faint by now and needed to have a wee sit down when I saw how close to the rear of my van he had came !!!

His car looked a write off and he looked pig sick.

Misfortune NO But Schadenfreude definitly.

What a wanker !!!!!
(ebagumsidog, Fri 18 Dec 2009, 19:40, Reply)

super super glue
Ha ha, an old flat mate of mine superglued his eye together whilst trying to open the tube with pliers. I laughed and laughed and laughed. Luckily our friends were slightly more helpful and took him to A&E whilst I stayed at home to laugh and laugh and laugh. A few hours later he came home with his eye still glued together. Apparently there is nothing they could do, no solvents could be used on his eye, he was checked by numerous nurses and doctors who all laughed and laughed and laughed.
He looked like a rabbit with myxomatosis. It took almost a week for his eye to open, every time I looked at him I laughed and laughed and laughed. Infact now when I remember it I laugh and laugh and laugh
perhaps you had to be there, luckily, I was
( spingers, Fri 18 Dec 2009, 18:59, 3 replies)

Few years ago I was a post-grad student at a certain university with a steeply sloping campus.
That winter's first snow was rather half-arsed. It melted quickly, leaving the whole place wet and muddy.

One morning, hurrying to a lecture, I saw a student slip and roll down the slope. In seconds, he was literally covered in mud. Looked like a failed bog-snorkeller.

The poor lad got up and looked down at himself, absolutely caked in filth, shocked and incredulous.

Luckily for him, I was carrying about half a kitchen roll so I wordlessly walked up to him and scraped off the worst of the mess with the absorbent papery stuff.

He stood still, allowing me to clean him up, and I silently waved away his thanks as we continued on our way.

I would normally have laughed my tits off, but at that particular time I had too much on my mind and didn't find anything funny.

Schadenfreude is normal - enjoy it!
(Juan Quar is clinging to her front teeth on, Fri 18 Dec 2009, 18:43, 7 replies)

It's Mr. Plow
I gathered pace and swooped manfully down the slopes. For the first time I was gliding like a hero and a smile played about my lips, my entire being wishing to show off to the flailing fools, wobbling Bambi-like on their treacherous boards.

I spied an opportunity to leave everyone with no doubt that I was one day to become every bit the legendary snowboarder they were most certainly already suspecting, and pointed myself at the small jump that would secure my life-long legacy in the minds of the gathered masses. Then I caught an edge, my feet headed skywards and my face fated to rendezvous with the snow below.

I came to an eventual halt several 10s of feet further down the slope and I shook a mountain's worth of soggy powder from my clothing. I couldn't hear the laughter; I didn't need to, the ranks of bouncing shoulders confirmed the well deserved mirth of those who'd witnessed my idiocy.
( Moey, Fri 18 Dec 2009, 18:25, Reply)

King of the Wild Frontier
Many moons ago when I was a mere piglet I with my cohorts ventured up to London to see Motorhead at The Hammersmith Odeon.
There was also I believe a concert of Bob Dylan at Earls Court on the same night if memory serves.
Imagine the scene, the tube train is jam packed with Crusties, Punks, Headbangers and Hippies when along come a fifty something couple laden down with suitcases who manage to enter the already packed carriage.
Unfortunately they were not quite as sprightly as they might have been and the doors shut fast on the last of their cases.
As the elderly gent bent over to wrestle with the case a "helpful" guard walked by a gave the end a prod with his foot.
Wham! The door slammed shut once more only this time the recipient of door induced pain was not the suitcase but the head of the elderly gent which was now firmly wedged in place.
A hushed and awestruck silence decended on the carriage, would the mans head "pop" off not unlike the top of his morning egg?
Finally after some wince inducing moments and cries of "John, John, are you okay" from the mans spouse the door reopened and the man reeled backwards into the packed carriage with a red face and tears in his eyes.
Unfortunately for John the only real damage the door had left was a thick black line either side of his face where the rubber seal had been squashed against him.
The uncomfortable silence was broken by a lone voice piping up from the rear of the carriage "look, it's Adam Ant!"
Cue 300 crusties collapsing in hysterics and two ashen faced old dears suffering in silence.
It must have been 20 odd years ago but I can remember every hilarious moment like it happened this morning.
24 carat comedy gold.
John I salute you.
( porky, Fri 18 Dec 2009, 18:17, Reply)

Snow Bloke
Last night I was driving along on my merry little way, rather slowly admittedly, when out of nowhere a suited man (briefcase, hat and the lot) slipped and ended up arse over tit, covered in snow and his briefcase some way away from him.

Instead of being a decent citizen and stopping, asking if he was okay, I pipped my horn, wound down the window and shouted "Enjoy your trip, mate?".

He looked at me from the floor, like a lost puppy.
(sbx, Fri 18 Dec 2009, 18:04, Reply)

drugs and ceramic fish
several years ago, i was involved with a rather odd bloke named paul. now, paul was - and still is - something of a pot fiend. he would smoke it every day. before i come across as a bit holier-than-thou, let me say that i used to smoke it, too. not to the same extent as him, but i don't want to get into the whole pot/kettle/black thing.
one particular night, paul told me that he'd been talking to one of his friends, who'd told him that he could make himself faint whilst smoking weed, which he believed would be fun. the method for this was fairly simple: crouch down on the floor, with your back against the wall. slide up the wall to an upright position, whilst taking a huge drag of a spliff. exhale sharply, whilst someone(me) pushes on your chest, expelling all the air from your lungs. hey presto! you faint!
to say i was sceptical would be an understatement, but i agreed to help him in his quest for unconsciousness.
before we began, paul turned to me and said "when i faint, make sure you catch me, i'll most likely fall forwards." i agreed to catch him and we started.
all went according to plan, right up until the point where his eyes rolled to the back of his head and he quickly slithered sideways. as i was expecting him to fall forwards, i missed him. he crashed into the t.v, before falling headfirst onto a large ceramic fish. lying on the floor, twitching like a paraplegic breakdancer, he was starting to worry me a little. i shook him, calling his name, until he opened his eyes.
"are you okay?" i asked. he looked at me with a rather stunned expression and mumbled "fish".
try as i might, i just couldn't be concerned for his safety at that point, i was far too busy laughing at the stupid fucker.
to this day, he still says it was my fault he hit that fish.

length? 30 seconds of twitching followed by an hours' laughing
( Smash Monkey lowering the tone of the whole internet, Fri 18 Dec 2009, 17:56, 6 replies)

HAHA! Stupid Christians.
www.independent.ie/national-news/refusing-blood-cost-jehovahrsquos-witness-her-life-1980879.html

rafter
baz
(bazmorningstar efil4nat3b, Fri 18 Dec 2009, 17:29, 9 replies)

Self ejection
A mate of mine by the name of Beechy was down visiting us in Bournemouth for another mate's birthday. A good few drinks had been consumed at the resultant houseparty, and we resolved to head out into town to carry on drinking. Not that Beechy needed to. He was trollied, and despite usually being one of the nicest blokes you could ever wish to meet, was behaving like an utter twat. On our short walk to the club he downed what was left of his large bottle of JD (it had been full when he started) and randomly hurled it across the road - missing the head of another friend by inches. Once inside the club, he continued being a total obnoxious twat, entering a fancy dress contest (it was also Halloween) despite being dressed in just jeans and a shirt. Upon not winning, he sprayed the judges with beer, then threw the rest of his pint, still in the (thankfully plastic) container onto the dance floor, Begbie-style.

Don;t get me wrong, normally I love the bloke but we were definitely getting fucked off with his behaviour on this occasion, and the bouncers were about to move in. We decided that we weren't going to risk a shoeing on his behalf, and if they chucked him out, he was on his own - he was, after all, utterly in the wrong.

As the bouncers moved in, Beechy's attitude got even worse and he lit up a fag (this was post-smoking ban) and leaned back against the wall, waiting for the black-suited gorillas to come and get him. Only they didn't have to. Beechy was stood by a fire door, and as he leaned back, his arse hit the bar that opened it.

Del-boy style, he fell straight through the door without breaking his form, and te bouncers simply closed the door behind him, for the easiest club ejaculation they will ever have had to conduct.

Serves hims right, the tit.
(Bappage, Fri 18 Dec 2009, 16:58, 2 replies)

Poor Uncle Merv.
He's pretty much brain-monged anyway being Cornish (not sure what generation - it all gets a bit mixed in places where one's grandfather is also one's half-brother*).

However, he's also the most accident-prone person I've ever known; we've been entertained by his crapness for years, so I'll just pick the story that nearly gave my Dad a death-inducing schadenfreude overload.

Back in the day, when the family would head to the beach en masse, Merv would strut up and down in his Speedos, taking verbal abuse from us and keeping an eye on his beloved speedboat. Every so often, he would need to get into the boat and move it further away as the tide was going out. He would do this in as posey a manner as possible, but we got used to ignoring him. It was because of this that Dad was the only one to see Merv, on having moved the boat again, slide gracefully off the edge of it...gracefully, until he caught his Speedos in the cleat on the side. Too late to change his downward momentum, the contest between cleat and gravity saw him hanging from the side of the boat whilst his trunks threatened to cleave him if his balls dared give way.

The curve of the boat meant he could not lift himself back up. Dad chose not to alert everyone, or indeed help, but instead stand on the shore and laugh very loudly.
Eventually, Mum made him swim out and assist in Merv's rescue.

Merv susbequently fathered children, and very odd they are, too.

*It is possible, but I wouldn't recommend it.
( thealternativefact, Fri 18 Dec 2009, 16:55, Reply)

Austin Powers and the Masterful Gurning
Well its about that time on a Friday where my brain gradually clicks into ‘weekend mode’ so to honour that changeover I’ll post my answer to this fabulous QOTW (thanks to althegeordie for the suggestion). I have a variety of funny memories to pull from the bank, but the first one that came to my mind is the one I have posted below – enjoy.

It was bank holiday weekend in August a few years back and I had recently started dating the rather dashing and debonair gentleman that is devil_in_tights. We had decided to go camping with a load of his friends in Devon, so we packed my car and trundled off for a weekend of booze-related mayhem. After spending the day prancing around on the beach we hauled our aching legs back to the campsite and settled in for the night. The campsite we were staying in was hardly ‘roughing it’, it had pool tables, a swimming pool, an arcade, a fucking enormous balcony and a pretty well-stocked bar – so suited us well. Much merriment ensued and very quickly giant spaces of time seemed to disappear into the abyss. I recall being chatted up by a really drunk scary girl who was trying to teach me how to play pool, I also remember DiT being called Austin Powers by some small children out on the balcony, (they had likened him to Mr Powers because he wore glasses and was apparently posh?)… I even remember DiT finding the horrifyingly massive skinhead father of the name-calling children and telling him his sons were ‘characters’ whilst we all tried to drag him away so he didn’t get his face pummelled in.

Now… I remember all this… but what I do not remember are the circumstances behind DiT deciding to climb over the balcony and hang his body over the edge of it. I do however remember his cheeky grin as I told him not to jump… and I remember how he let go and his facial expression changed from one of merriment to one of confusion as he had clearly thought the drop wasn’t as far as it actually was. As he tumbled through the air, flailing limbs and all, he hit the grassy slope and proceeded to roll, gaining speed. At one point he managed to stand up, and punched his hand triumphantly in the air (like he was in a John Hughes film) before loosing his footing and continuing to roll down the rest of the hill before eventually coming to a stop on a gravel road in a heap.

Now at this point you might be thinking, what did you do? Did you run to his aid? Did you look on in terror at his crumpled body below..? Did we fuck! We laughed and snorted and convulsed about the place until the icing on the cake occurred… as DiT struggled painfully to his feet one of the kids from earlier sauntered over, looked him up and down with scrutiny and exclaimed ‘you’re a bit shit Austin Powers’, he then proceeded to gurn masterfully and strolled off in search of his mate.
(Flim-Flam the Magnificent "You is talking loco and I like it!", Fri 18 Dec 2009, 16:15, 4 replies)

Death Schadenfreude
One of the instructors of a course I did few years ago was diagnosed with cancer. We completed the course and left before we found out the outcome of his diagnosis, but a couple of years after that I saw a colleague of his and asked how he was.

'He's dead' came the sullen reply. 'Cancer got him in the end then?' I asked. 'Nah. He got rid of the cancer. Fell down the stairs and broke his neck'

I laughed so hard that I'm going to hell with wet trousers.
(3-hoops, Fri 18 Dec 2009, 16:10, 1 reply)

sweets
as a german guy i´m surprised to see that schadenfreude is understood. but we also have kindergarten. and blitzkrieg. and zeitgeist. in this order. so heres my story. as a kid we had this nice idiot in the summercamp. everybody got a postal paket with sweets. except this guy. but some day it arrived. it was the biggest one i ever saw. on the way back to the tent he promised to give everybody some sweets. as i said he was a really nice idiot. opening it with 30 kids nearby he read the message "hi chistian. we couldn´t read your handwriting but we hope you asked for the included pillow". poor guy. the camp went on for 5 more days. kids are assholes. me too. i think thats the way how hannibal lectors are created.
(peterling, Fri 18 Dec 2009, 16:09, 10 replies)

Land Rover - v - Stolen Scooter
I was sitting in my Land Monster I mean Rover waiting for the lights to change when I looked in the door mirror and noticed a light getting closer and closer and BANG!

I got out to survey the damage. Nothing, not a mark on it. I looked over at the offending scooter and neither rider had a helmet on and the guy in front was holding his chest and was in obvious pain. Yep it was his chest that made contact! Ouch - I bet he broke a rib or two! There was no number plate on the scooter and the riders didn't seem to keen to speak to me and sped off in a wobbly one hand steering the other holding his chest kind of way.

I chuckled all the way home!
( Vambo, Fri 18 Dec 2009, 15:38, Reply)

I was walking home from work one windy day
when I saw an old lady drop her newspaper on the floor. Being the sweet young man that I am, I immediately started over to help. At almost the exact same moment, a gust of wind exploded the paper into a million pages which each flew off in a different direction. I performed the smoothest, most rapid pedestrian U-turn ever and marched home crying with laughter. I'm so sorry, old lady..
( valoukh newsgash.wordpress.com, Fri 18 Dec 2009, 15:23, Reply)

Make Me Smile!
Back when I was a younger Mon we lived in a fairly remote village in Barnsley surrounded by woodland. Many a summer would be spent climbing trees, building mini hideouts from fallen branches etc etc

One summer we hit the jackpot. Some local had believed that a trip to the local dump was too far and instead left a sofa and a few short ends of wood near our usual haunt. Being the creative little so and so’s we were, our little gang set to work building a place which would act as our main meeting place and rival any of the other crappy efforts built by any rival kids (Despite the fact that all local kids that we knew of hung around with us , even the smelly one).

Anywhoo after much work and sweat we had built our den a selection of neatly placed trees that backed onto a rock face which we decided to name Boulder Hill , mainly due to the fact that we all loved the MASK cartoon but we also installed a crows nest loaded with rocks to pelt any invaders. We loved that place and spent many a day in our mini fortress planning world domination/ reading porn/ talking bollocks/ delete as appropriate.

One morning we returned to the place to find our beloved boulder hill smouldering from the inside. On closer inspection we found the sofa had been partially burnt along with a pile of nearby hedgeporn (Found elsewhere and returned to base during the build) most of the nearby trees and one of the chipboard walls. We were upset, who the hell could have done such a thing, the place was virtually invisible to anyone other than our group and now the smoking sofa was half black and barely usable. Eventually Stokey, a mate who surname sounded similar came up with the notion that it must have been the work of some of the local teens that he saw in the woods a few days ago . Most of our group didn’t see the so called mystery teens but eventually settled for that story and went back to repairing the place as best we could (The only other suggestion to who did the damage came from Rob (the local idiot) who believed that it may have been the work of the Predator- why it felt like blowing up a place like that with its plasma cannon was a mystery to everyone but Rob).

A few years later, when our group reached the age to go out drinking we learnt the horrid truth Stokey (the bloke who convinced us of the whole teen vandalism). Stokey had stolen a bottle of his dads vodka, snuck out and decided to have a good drink on his own in the only safe place he could think of… boulder hill. He arrived at the place, had a good drink of the vodka and like a clumsy twat tripped over something and spilt the stuff everywhere. He finished what he had left in the bottle, decided to spark up a cig before setting off home and accidentally set fire to the alcohol sodden magazines and sofa. He managed to put it out but managed to burn a good hole in his favourite t-shirt.

Did we laugh at the thought of him running around with his shirt on fire like some manic rodent? Did we hell we were more pissed off about the fact that he had sold us the phoney line instead of owning up to the incident . You may think we were being petty but I am still quite vexed about Stokey and his Charred den fraud.

Just to let you know I like to laugh at the misfortune of others that read my posts and really get into the story only to find out that its nothing but a longwinded pun. Your replies of For Fucks Sake (or similar) really make my day.
(mon bison powered by magnets, Fri 18 Dec 2009, 15:01, 12 replies)

My dad once convinced my brother the frozen pond was OK to walk accross
"look" he said "i did it earlier, you can see my footprints in the snow"

Unsurprisingly my brother stepped on the ice , which gave way and landed him in a very cold pond

Turns out my dad had been up earlier and made footprints with a slipper on a stick
( Citizen Cavy Admires your passion for conformity, Fri 18 Dec 2009, 14:59, 15 replies)

Caravaning Calamity of Course

It was a lovely summer's day. The air was bright golden and a playful breeze played around and the campsite, licking us with warm, sweet air.

However, after driving for hours in the shimmering heat towing a caravan, we were all rather parched. The slpendid views of those rolling hills, a-rippling with corn, passed by unnoticed: we wanted tea down our stiff necks, and we wanted it now.

We put the caravan feet down, threw up the awning, and legged it away to the tap with one of those water-barrels-on-rolly-tracks bouncing around behind us. Our mother was left on guard (since we had carelessly thrown everything in the awning) and was sitting outside reading a magazine.

But as we wrestled the stupid water thing back up the path, it quickly came apparent something was wrong. Was it the other campers barely-stifled giggling? Was it my mother's burning face, as she sat rigid and pretending to read her mag? Or was it our noticeably-absent awning?

Yeah, that would be it.

In our rush for life-giving tea infusion, we hadn't tied up or pegged down the awning. Apparently, a particularly playful gust of air had sneaked under the awning and inflated it like a jellyfish, causing it to float up and - rather gracefully - drape itself over our caravan like a giant canvas condom. Neat work, in fact. Totally inside out.

Mum was far too short to do anything but to determinedly pretend she hadn't noticed, and sat 'reading' while the awning resettled and the super-structure of poles gently fell apart behind her.

Later on, I would go on to tread in a cow-pat.
(IChewCandlewax, Fri 18 Dec 2009, 14:21, Reply)

Dad
I apologise if this story applies to you, but twas told me by a now retired Sister in A&E. Yes it involves Bottoms....
Back in the day , The days of a bit of a wait in a&e ,you know-" the good old days",, there was a gaurdian of the department called the "Triage Nurse".
This nurse would screen people coming in, and put you in priority of waiting to be seen- ie-
1.Arm hanging off- straight through- priority one
2.bit pissed and mouthy- can wait a bit to see if sobers up- priority 2
3.a bit of a cold- sit and wait long time, hopefully will realise waste of time and go home.- priority 3.

Now the next to be called had been waiting 20 mins in the waiting room, looked fine, if a little anxious.- Now picture this chap- A young welsh Glyn from "Gavin and Stacey" would be closest.
Glyn was called through- and the conversation went thus-
Nurse:Hello , My name is Jill, what seems to be the problem?
Glyn:Errr
Nurse:It`s ok how can I Help??
Glynn:Can`t tell you..( in broad welsh accent)
Nurse: Honestly You can, we`re here to help.
Glynn:Noooo, Can`t tell you.
Nurse: why not??
Glynn:( in whisper) Too embaressing)
Nurse:Thats Ok , we get allsorts in here,now whats the problem??
Glynn:( in high pitched welsh accent squeak)- Noooo, can`t tell you, it`s too embaressing
Nurse:(exasperated) Right ,In that case Go and sit down gain, and when you can, come and tell me, we`ve got a full waiting room.

So for the next 4 hours Glynn sat in the waiting room. Occasionally Nurse Jill would look over and mouth" ready"- to which glynn would avoid eye contact, and mumble"nooo".

Eventually towards the early hours, and the department was cleared of the general Detritus of Drunks and casualties of life, Jill noticed Glynn still sitting there.
Nurse:- Look are you ready to tell us what the problem is??
Glynn- a movement, brief eye contact
Nurse: its ok
Glynn:It`s my, my fffather.
Nurse: your father ?/
Glynn:Yesss- (relieved in a broad welsh accent).
Nurse:What about your father??
Glynn:oooh I can`t tell you
Nurse: noo, Go on it`s fine
Glynn:He`s.... (mumble mumble mumble)
Nurse:What love I can`t hear you?
Glynn: (Gesturing with his hand-)Got a.. (Mumble mumble)(
Nurse: look ;love you`re going to have to speak up
Glynn: he`s got a ... up (mumble mumble)
Nurse: just tell us love..about your dad.
Glynn:(shouting out) HES GOT A TENNIS RACKET UP HIS BOTTOM
Silence a few beats......
Nurse: Well where is he??
Glynn: In the car..... In the car park....

Now picture pretty much every Nurse, doctor, porter in the department( well it was the early hours), now walking out into the car park, to find an elderly gentleman in the front seat of a mini metro, yep, with a tennis racket up his arse. The poor sod had been sitting there for several hours whilst his clearly socially exceptionally shy son had gone to get help.Just to help you picture the scene, he was unable to sit (obviously) and hence was in what can only be described as the " doggy position". with a tennis racquet up his arse, with people walking past, like this for several hours.....



Ps In case you wondered-he was fine, I believe it was a Slazenger, and you`d be surprised how many people will admit shoving stuff up their arses " just because" rather than bothering with a good excuse.
(rural confucious, Fri 18 Dec 2009, 14:05, 1 reply)

Instant Karma
I was walking down the street with my friend who's about 16 stone. A white van driver blessed with profound intellect thought it ingenious to lean out of his window and shout "fat bastard" as he drove past, looking back briefly for our reaction.

Unlucky for him that the truck he was tailgating stopped just at that moment allowing the twat to smash quite dramatically into it.

He got his reaction.
(fuksox is a noob. deal with it, Fri 18 Dec 2009, 13:30, 1 reply)

On the receiving end of Schadenfreude
I, for my sins, which must be bloody legion, support Hibernian Football Club. One freezing, baltic night I decided to see the Cabbage play Rangers at Ibrox.

Hibees don't tend to go in for the sectarian bollocks much but there is a very deep vein of hatred for Glaswegians in general. This explains why the lad sitting beside me in the away end had some soap with him.

We were sitting right at the front. My neighbour kept waving the soap at the ball boy nearest us and shouting: "Do you know what this is?" Oh, the hilarity. "Have you ever had a bath?" My, how we laughed.

The wag kept this up until Rangers scored. That shut him up for a bit. After their third goal, the ball boy allowed himself a wee smile. After their fifth: he began to wave at my now silent companion.

We lost 7-0. Must be karma.
( calgacus Non sum qualis eram bonae sub regno Cynarae, Fri 18 Dec 2009, 13:25, 3 replies)

Ahahahaha
When I used to live in Hatfield, the Galleria (or Gonhorrea as it is known to anyone who lived there) was a shithole of a shopping centre-cum-retail outlet which attracted chavs like a portion of dropped chips attracts tramps. It was especially bad in the run up to the festive season when scummers from all over the county descended on it like flies on shit to buy cheap Reebok tracksuit tops with one arm shorter than the other and so on.

Anyhoo, I was driving home from work at the cinema in this complex of the damned. There were a number of other drivers who were wanting to get in, and a long queue of traffic. One inbred loon decided that she was bored of waiting in this line of the underclass, and decided to perform a u-turn at the roundabout. Now, I know what you're thinking - she decided to go round the roundabout and back from whence she came. No. She decided to literally turn right on the roundabout, against the flow of traffic (so in other words going the WRONG WAY around it) and then turned right again to go down the other side of the road. She decided, however, to make this manouvre in front of me, causing me to put the anchors on rather abruptly, and making me lean on my horn, calling here "the daughter of a crackwhore and a diseased mongrel dog" or words to that effect.

Rather than apologise, she flipped me the bird and sped off.

Right into the back of a Parcelforce 35 tonne articulated lorry.

I laughed so hard I think I autographed my gusset with poo.
( Undercovercarrot got done for gross misconduct on..., Fri 18 Dec 2009, 13:07, Reply)

I invite you all to laugh at my misfortune.
I've just nipped out to the bank near my office. The cold air went straight to my nose and I attempted to do that snot thing like footballers do by blocking one nostril and blowing hard out of the other.

It's a revolting thing to do and I'm sorry.

I really am - because not only did it go somewhat wrong, resulting in a trail of snot snaking across the front of my coat, but having just been to the loo and seen myself in the mirror I can confirm that I have spent the last 15 minutes walking around North Finchley with a gigantic bogey in my moustache.
( Monty Boyce, My cheese game is strong, Fri 18 Dec 2009, 13:02, 5 replies)

Millwall Fan Wanker
I saw the post below which reminded me of my own Millwall themed moment of amusement. I went to see the mighty Gills play at Millwall, which proved to be an interesting game especially seeing as after we beat them their fans invaded the pitch and we were stuck inside the stadium for 45 minutes waiting for the rabid beasts outside to be dispersed.

Anyway we hop onto the coach to start home, when about 10 minutes down the road we hit traffic and start to slow down, a pair a of Millwall fans were walking alongside the bus on the pavement and notice we're there, prompting them to shout at us and make the wanker sign at us.

The moment one of those twats walked straight into a lampost was probably one if the funniest things I've ever seen.
(Jimmy Large Is huffing Jenkem on, Fri 18 Dec 2009, 12:55, 1 reply)