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ThatNiceMan asks: Have you ever been talking with people down the pub when somebody throws such a complete curveball (Sample WTF moment: "I wonder what it's like to get bummed") that all talk is stopped dead? Tell us!

(, Thu 12 May 2011, 12:53)
Pages: Latest, 12, 11, 10, 9, 8, ... 1

This question is now closed.

TomTom
A couple of years ago, I was at a mate's funeral. It wasn't a happy occasion; he'd hit a tree, and because he was divorced and his firm kept no records of his ex or kids, they hadn't got to his bedside while he was still conscious.

So far, so bummer.

But: someone had brought his satnav in, as Grimsby Crem is noted for scrotes doing cars during services. Just before his son got up to the reading, a disembodied voice said "You have reached your destination".
Dead silence, followed by muffled snorts from half the congregation.
(, Thu 12 May 2011, 20:37, 11 replies)
You know what should be a conversation stopper, but very rarely is?
The start of the fucking film.
(, Thu 12 May 2011, 13:18, 13 replies)
Oh dear. I dun a woopsie...
I was doing a software pitch to a room full of around 20 senior execs from Legal and General. It was in their conference suite, and there was a sliding partition wall between us and the next room, where I could hear a computerised voice which was putting me off my stride. Sounded like they were playing around with some software. It put me off a bit mid sentence and I said, "sorry, I'm getting distracted, sounds like we've got a Dalek next door hahaha"

Long stony silence...

"Actually that is our Chairman, he has had throat cancer and uses a voice box"

We didn't win the contract.
(, Fri 13 May 2011, 8:59, 9 replies)
My Father's Last Words
I won't get into the medical details surrounding my father's death, but it did involve hospice care, ensuring he passed away at home surrounded by his closest friends and family. While he didn't utter many words to me during his final weeks, I considered this a good sign as he spent a lot of time dispensing final tidbits of advice to my ne'er-do-well brothers and a few friends he felt could have done better with their lives. The last few days saw him in a near comatose state, only occasionally uttering a phrase or two to whoever he recognized by his bed.

On what turned out to be his last day of life, the local Episcopalian priest visited to give a blessing and last rites to one of her dearly beloved parishioners and patrons. While the priest was herself well loved in the community, it was known that her later morning Sunday sermons could extend well beyond the normally scheduled hours, and the less patient would attend the early morning service as that guaranteed a set exit time. My father was among those who attended the early service, although to accomodate my late morning schedule, he would endure the extended services when I was visiting the islands and sleeping late.

As her soft voice filled the alcove, I realized the priest was going into "extended sermon mode". After an interminable interval, my father levered himself upright, looked her straight in the face and said:

"SHUT THE HELL UP!"

He immediately collapsed back onto the bed and resumed his slow breathing.

The silence which accompanied this utterance was nearly absolute, broken only by my father's continued breathing and the faint sound of the remote air conditioner. The priest was clearly discomfited by the incident, and not knowing precisely what to do, reached down to pat one of my father's dachshunds who had taking up station sitting close by her feet. The dog softly growled at her, which prompted my mother to defuse the situation.

"Thank you very much: that was wonderful."

Knowing she was being given a way out, the priest softly said, "thank you: I think I should go now." I accompanied her to the door and attempted to comfort her by saying, "he loved helping the parish - but he was never very patient." The priest quietly replied, "he always did prefer the early service."

Several hours later, my father breathed his last, with my mother and myself sitting next to him. 2 days later, a service was held at the tiny church he loved. The same priest gave the eulogy, and everyone was astonished at its brevity.
(, Sun 15 May 2011, 19:02, 4 replies)
Poor, poor Tracey and her fruit-based woe
Another tale from my mis-spent youth, this time from the age of fifteen, in a crowded school classroom.

It's the end of the school day, and we wait for "Donkey" Delaney to come along, tick off our names in the register and dismiss us for the afternoon. It is a Friday, we are so excite, because tomorrow is Saturday, and Sunday comes after...wards. Conversation is, as you'd expect, quite animated.

Then, Donkey Delaney walks through the door - typical physics teacher, all dandruff, arms, legs and a neck that looks like a piece of string with a knot tied in the middle. The class falls silent.

All except for Tracey. Poor, poor Tracey with her pneumatic, hypnotic chest and the conversation killer to end them all:

"Well, I prefer a banana because it's got just the right curve on it."

Monday came, and her desk was piled high with bananas. Tuesday came, and there was a new school rule.
(, Thu 12 May 2011, 13:03, Reply)
killed in more ways than one
Some friends and I were taking about motor bikes, silly driving and that nutter that zooms round sweden, weaving in and out of traffic whilst doing over a ton (ghost rider?).

Although the topic was fairly serious we were discussing it in a humerous way.

After a few minutes this guy, Martin, pipes up and says "a guy died in my arms"

Everybody stopped talking.

He took this as his cue to elaborate a bit.

He had been on his way to a rugby match when he and a few other guys saw a motorcycle rip past them dressed head to toe in denim. One of them remarks on the fact that the guy must be freezing when all of a sudden Mr blue jeans and his bike start to cartwheel up the motorway. They slam on the brakes and put the hazards on. Some of them pull the wreckage to the side of the road. In the mean time Martin goes to check on the amazing human cannon ball. He finds him lying face up and convulsing in the middle of the lane just up from their car. His helmet is cracked and there is grey matter on display. The dude is checking out. Martin then goes on to explain that he saw past all the gore and horror and knew he was witnessing the last moments of someone's life. He tells us that he couldn't let this guy die alone, so he held his hand and talked to him.

You could have heard a scale model of a pin drop onto a mattress.

The evening pretty much fizzled out. For some reason.
(, Thu 12 May 2011, 18:57, 8 replies)
Chatting to a bird at the pub
All going well. She asked me what my name was and I replied absolutely deadpan 'Well, up until the age of 10 it was Jon Venables.'

Dirty look and conversation over.

I've no idea where this came from, I wasn't trying to make a joke, I've never used that before - it was just the first thing that came to my head. It just came from nowhere. It was like I was cock-blocked by a momentary demonic possession.
(, Thu 12 May 2011, 14:36, 6 replies)
I work with this man and still can't look him in the eye.
A couple of years ago a new guy joined the company I work for, and I found out he lived in the village I grew up in. So chatting away I found out he lived in an area named "brookside" (it was built in 1986) While chatting away talking about how I used to know a bloke that lived their I mentioned the hot blonde girl that lived down that way and how she had lot's of naughty peircing and how I spent many a night trying to "fire in" (This was me being tactfull as I didn't really know this guy) then I finished off with the words "but she's dead now.

After a second or so of silence he replied "That was my daughter" and walked off

I am an arse
(, Tue 17 May 2011, 18:09, 6 replies)
Bagpipes
At the funeral of a Scottish friend. My mate, in a loud voice, on walking past the lone bagpiper stood in full kilt and sporran playing a mournful tune as the congregation file in behind the coffin:

"Fucking buskers. THERE'S A TIME AND A PLACE."
(, Mon 16 May 2011, 16:33, 5 replies)
The school assembly
I think the intention was good, when the headmaster introduced the WWII veteram and survivor of the Japanese POW camp as a reminder that we must never forget the sacrifices made on our part. And the awed silence that fell upon us as he told his tale would certainly have stuck in the memory for a long long time, had it not been ended with the phrase 'Obviously, I still can't stand the Japanese, evil little people'

Which probably would have been bad enough and stunned us all to silence for a moment, but after the headmaster recovered his composure and asked us for questions, one of the sixth formers started an eloquent question about whether it was acceptable to dismiss an entire nationality on the basis of the behaviour of a select group of individuals a long time ago.

Our guest bluntly stated 'yes, and if it happened to you you would feel the same' and in a cowardly attempt not offend him, the headmaster long windedly and circuitously somehow managed to agree that yes, this was accetable. At which point, the usually quiet Nigel from my year stood up, pointed at the Jewish music teacher and yelled 'That's why I hate him for killing Christ'.

Conversation, assembly and all thoughts of Nigel as the harmless shy boy were killed stone dead.
(, Fri 13 May 2011, 11:27, 6 replies)
I have very broken insides (the poo making bit)...
Which mean that I have to take steroids, lots, but to minimise the side effects and make sure they get to the area they need to treats they go up rather than down, if you catch my drift.

So anyway for a reason that I don't still fathom I left some of my bum pills (http://www.netdoctor.co.uk/medicines/100003522.html) on my desk. My colleague, who we shall call Mark for that is his name, found them:

Mark: What the fuck are these?
Me: What does it say on them?
Mark: [reads packaging]
Me: Ah, those would be my little waxy torpedoes of anal steroid fun!
Entire office: [Silence][tumbleweed][church bell]
(, Thu 12 May 2011, 19:08, 10 replies)
I was at a party once
when we were talking about who the worst serial killer in history had been. We all generally held different opinions until my friend Nick piped in with "what about that Chinese guy who went around beating people to death with a certain brand of trendy shoe?"

We all fell silent in bafflement and eventually one of us said "I think you made that one up Nick".

"No, no", he said, "I remember reading all about him. The Converse Asian Killer".
(, Sat 14 May 2011, 20:51, 7 replies)
A few years back..
I was in the throes of a passionate conversation with a lovely lady. Things were going well and I was getting all the positive signs that she liked me. Twirling of the hair, cheeky smile, a little playful tap as she admonished me for my snide remarks about the obese man at the end of the bar. The conversation turned to her age and she challenged me to guess how old she was. Of course women love to hear how young they look and I knew this game well. Only an idiot would profer a guess on the wrong side of your suspicions.

I asked to see her hands and stroked her soft dainty digits seductively while pretending to make my calculations. 'Oh, you don't look a day over 20' I said while gazing into her mesmerizing blue eyes. She cooed and flicked her blond locks and tilted her head back, "Actually I'm 26" she replied with a hint of celestial satisfaction that only a well timed comment can give. The whole episode would have made for a vomit inducing romantic scene in a cheap B movie.

Now with my considerable experience of such situations I knew the next steps towards a kiss and ultimately an appointment with her moo moo later on in the evening were a mere formality. She was a mere puppet in my grand scheme of operation "Get Shag part III" and she was all too willingly playing right into my hands. It was all too easy.

With the conversation of age fresh in our minds I allowed myself a slip that would surely rank up there with some of the most grandiose errors in history. First Watergate then the Janet Jackson nipple slip, next we had Chernobyl and finally this. So, I probed further, "What is that in dog years?".

Suffice to say the satellite circling my orbit beaming hardcore images into my imagination came crashing down to earth. Things took a turn for the worst and I was soon left alone to rue my lost opportunity.
(, Thu 12 May 2011, 16:09, 4 replies)
Back when I was in my early 20's
I used to hang around with a big group of people. Not all of them, all the time, but most nights there were a dozen of about 20 semi-regulars in "our" pub. And a lot of the time people were in entirely different states of sobriety - some were on a serious session, some were just getting drunk, and some were just hanging out.

On this particular occasion about 10 of us had taken over 3 tables and the hardcore drinkers, me included, were at one end. We'd been playing drinking games and I was pretty much into "I'm just going to rest my head on the table for a bit" stage.

Somehow the conversation at the other end of the table filtered into my brain over the noise of the jukebox and various too-loud people surrounding me, and I realised that E, a lovely young lass, was bemoaning her latest breakup by enumerating the guy's many flaws, obvious only in hindsight. Plaintively she cried, "Why can I only get shit boyfriends?"

Aha! I felt confident I knew the answer to this one! Into the silence as the jukebox switched tracks and those around her looked for a supportive comment, I raised my head from the pillow of my arms and loudly declared,

"It's because you're fat."

Satisfied I'd solved the problem, I put my head back down again and went back to resting my eyes.
(, Thu 12 May 2011, 22:27, 2 replies)
At a wedding recently
I was standing in a large group, and a friend said to a woman she'd met about 2 minutes before "yes the bride looks beautiful doesn't she? A bit of an upgrade on the groom's last girlfriend so I've heard!"

The look that everyone gave her made it clear that she was talking to the previous girlfriend. So, determined to save the situation, my friend said loudly:

"IF EVERYONE'S HEAD WAS A VEGETABLE, WHAT VEGETABLE WOULD THAT BE!?"
(, Fri 13 May 2011, 15:13, 5 replies)
...from the mouths of babes
Bathing my toddler daughter one night before bedtime, we're chatting away about the day and she pipes up:
"Daddy? When I get older will I get boobs like you and mummy?"

Speechless. I nearly gave up the booze and fags. Nearly.
(, Sun 15 May 2011, 7:35, 1 reply)
Vicar's wife
My dad answered the door, it was the vicar's wife who had a son who was at the scout troop my parent's helped to run. She was just about to ask whatever question it was that she came round for when the dog started frantically sniffing her trousers.

"oh she must be able to smell my pussy" she innocently blurted.

silence... apart from the thunder of my feet stomping up the stairs and the slamming of my door as I threw myself into my room and cried with laughter.

it was a good 10 mins before my dad could extricate himself from the situation and join in the uncontrollable giggles with me.
(, Fri 13 May 2011, 12:44, 1 reply)
Was in a bar
with a mate and some of his new college friends (All girls), when he mentioned one of them used to go to a summer Irish school with us. She was duly introduced but I couldn't for the life of me remember her. Several examples were given but nothing. She then pointed out she used to have red hair and not black, to which I cheerfully replied "Oh yeah! You're the girl everyone used to finger on the beach..."

Silence ensued.
(, Thu 12 May 2011, 14:06, Reply)
my dad
Dad was English but lived in Amsterdam for 11 or so years before he died of cancer at the young age of 52. He undertook most of the chemo and radiotherapy treatment in a hospital just outside Amsterdam near Schiphol airport if I remember correctly.

For the first few weeks at the start of his treatment all the staff and other patients on the ward, assuming dad could only speak English, only spoke English to him. They never spoke in Dutch to him and more or less assumed he was an ignorant English man with no grasp of their language.

Nothing odd about that except my dad was a quite a bit of a character and had shaved all his hair off (his response to being told he will lose his hair due to the treatments), was drawing erotic and dirty bondage pictures for the nurses and smoking skunk out on the balcony. The other cancer patients basically thought he was a complete oddball acting inappropriately through to disgracefully. A couple of weeks pass:

Nurse: Hello Mr Sutit Senior Ive been told that you speak fluent Dutch
Dad: Um well yes, I do.
Nurse: In that case would you rather we spoke to you in Dutch or English?
Dad: Dutch would be fine...

As my dad tells it there first was an audible gasp from some of the patients as the realisation dawned on them that he had understood ever single bloody word they had said in the last two weeks and then it was so quiet you could of heard a pin drop...

still miss him
(, Thu 12 May 2011, 21:02, 2 replies)
The Old Mariner
[Insert first post related warning.]

I had a friend who was working away with a group of 20 somethings and a grizzled ex-merchant navy boy who kept himself to himself and was generally not part of the larger group.

After work one evening while they were having a couple of jars one young chap mentioned the rope burn he'd received earlier, and said it "Hurt like buggery".

The old sailor growled "Nothing hurts like buggery." and suddenly it was a bit late and everyone was tired.
(, Wed 18 May 2011, 9:44, 2 replies)
I used to work in Game
One of the other members of staff (let's call him Neil) was serving a customer at the till.

Customer: Can I pay by card please?

Neil: Sure.

Neil then takes the card and swipes it (this was before chip and pin) and then notices for the first time that the card is labelled as MRS Smith.

Neil: Erm... I'm afraid I can't take this card as payment.

Customer: Why not?

Neil: Er... I think is your wife's card, it says Mrs Smith.

Customer: I am Mrs Smith.

Neil ....
(, Thu 12 May 2011, 18:53, 2 replies)
Last year...
Last year I was seeing a delightful young lady. It had been a while since I had had what I would term a 'good relationship' with someone that not only did I fancy but shared many things with.

We were really a brilliant couple and everyone commented on it.

We had been seeing each other for a couple of months, and as she had a son, and for what ever reason we were taking things quite steadily. It was really nice, we used to alternate long weekends at mine or hers, a few times taking dirty weekend breaks... All was sound in the world.

At this point I really was falling in love with her, she is the only ex I look back at with fondness. I digress...

We'd spent the friday night out and about, had a nice lie in in the morning then spent the day shopping, then late pub lunch then home with beer, DVD and I cooked. We clamber into bed quite early and are lay there just being all gay and coupley.

She was facing away from me, both of us drifting off, but both aware that we were both very much awake. When, still facing away from me, she utters 'I love you', now, if you wish to stop any conversation for at least 24 hours - I suggest you do exactly as I did... You laugh and then fart. Cold shoulder? I was expecting the shed!
(, Thu 12 May 2011, 17:25, 5 replies)
Back to around 1980. I had a radio cassette recorder, that
I used to take everywhere with me.

Most Sundays I would religiously rush home in time to listen to the Top 40, and record all the tunes I wanted, to be played over the coming week. I also had a rather nasty habit, as was not uncommon in 13 year old boys, of recording other miscelany such as burps and farts.

So, I'm sure you've guessed where we're going here.

Grandma and Grandad were coming to stay for the week. They used to get the train from their house in Surrey, to redhill. My parents would pick them up from there.

In the car with Mum, picked up said grandparents, we're driving home, chattering away happily. Mum has borrowed last weeks top 40 tape to play in the car. Approaching Westerham, some jaunty Michael Jackson tune or similar is playing.

. . . living off the waaaaall . . . .

*crackle, crunch *

"Wait, wait, I've got one coming" *giggling sounds, banging and crashing noises*

"FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFRRRRRRPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP!!!!"

*more giggling sounds*

"you dirty cunt!"

*laughter* *cruch, bang*

. . . . living off the wall . . . .

Silence. Granny looking at Mum, Grandad looking at me, Mum staring at the road ahead, all thinking 'Was that what I thought it was???'.
(, Wed 18 May 2011, 11:31, 2 replies)
One of my mates...
... over the course of several weeks convinced one of his friends - who did not know me otherwise - that I had a 12 inch cock. Unbeknownst to me, and with the help of a few mates this bloke, Lars, was led to believe that I was more than well endowed.

Everyone was in on the joke apart from Lars - and me. They had told him how I had problems finding a girl that could 'cope' with me, how happy I was I finally found one - who albeit being petite - had a rather spacious receptacle... etc. You get the idea.

One night we all met up. I arrived at the pub and everyone - including Lars - was there.

I had no idea why everyone fell off his chair in the pub when - on asked where my girlfriend was - I innocently said she didn't want to come out as she had a sore throat.

BTW It's more like 4 really.
(, Sat 14 May 2011, 10:54, 3 replies)
Dinner party snobbery.
When I was young and first married, my then husband and myself were invited to a dinner party. The host and hostess were fine, but the other couple were stuck-up pains in the rear. They had been everywhere, done everything, and did a good job of making the rest of us feel inadequate. The discussion turned to the antiques this couple owned, and in particular to an antique globe-of-the-world they'd recently purchased. The wife went on at length about the globe, where she had bought it, how much she paid for it and what a wonderful addition it made to their lovely dinning room. At this point I was pretty much sick of their bragging and decided to add a few comments of my own. "Well we have an antique globe too, " I said. "In fact, it's so old..it's flat."

Well that shut her up!
(, Fri 13 May 2011, 21:01, 4 replies)
Disgusting myself....
One afternoon at work our manager gathered us together to inform us of some bad news. R's wife who hd been about 8 weeks pregnant had lost their baby. I thought I said it in my head 'has she checked the back of their sofa'. Apparently not. No-one was angry just dissapointed.
(, Fri 13 May 2011, 13:34, 7 replies)
Some years ago
Me, Alan and Rob (names changed etc) were in the pub talking the usual bollocks when I mentioned a program that my kids used to watch about a kid with a pocket watch and how he used to freeze time with, usually to get back at bullies and catch up on homework.

We then discussed what the better uses for such a device would be. Briefly skipping over mild sexual assault, free iPods and scumbag battery, we suggested some of the sillier ideas. Such as the idea of watching for people reaching for their beer then pausing time and moving it a couple of inches closer so they just end up knocking it over. Or writing rude words on peoples' foreheads. Alan suggested entering the houses of anti-social neighbours during the night (I assume acquiring a key earlier in the day), rearranging the furniture and writing spooky messages on the walls in red paint. General mischief really.

Then came the conversation stopper. Well not just a conversation, the entire evening. Rob then came out with:
"What about going into a secondary school, finding the boy's changing room and seeing how they're developing during puberty?"

Alan and I got up, labelled him as a paedophile and left him there on his own vowing never to speak to or see the pervert again.

About 6 months later, I heard from Rob's brother who said his wife had walked in on Rob wanking off his 14yo brother-in-law whilst watching porn. This earned him an instant divorce, 4 years at her Majesty's pleasure and a permanent entry onto the sex offender's register.

Oh how we laughed.
(, Thu 12 May 2011, 15:41, 9 replies)
The wedding from Hull
I was at a particularly dull wedding a few years ago and was trapped on a table with a few of the bride's particularly dull friends. One of these friends loved the sound of his own voice and clearly thought he was hilarious. He wasn't. he was one of these "I hate anything popular" types and thought he was a total non-conformist (he wore a shit metal t-shirt - it was Bell Shaggeroth or something like that - to the wedding, because "suits are for boring people with jobs").

His "humour" basically consisted of interupting whatever conversation was going on by going "hmmm hmmm yes yes" then slagging off whatever or whoever we were talking about. Killing every conversation stone dead. He also reminded me a lot of Ritchie out of Bottom.

Now, I had been told to "play nice" by the missus since it was her mate getting married, so refrained from saying anything to this tool. However, we were talking about flms and one lass p[ut forward the poinion the Titanic is the bestest film of ever. So in chips tollboy "hmm hmm yes yes. I went to see that film with a few mates and it was so shit that I had to liven it up by making funny comments. Everyone in the cinema was laughing because, as you might have noticed, I'm a really funny guy!"

I was taking a large swig of over-priced lager at this point and half coughed, half laughed, which resulted in some beer going back into the glass and some coming out my nose. Everyone on the table burst out laughing at this point, except for the funny guy, who took offence to being laughed at and didn't speak for the rest of the night. Result.
(, Mon 16 May 2011, 9:53, 7 replies)

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Knickers.
(, Tue 17 May 2011, 15:27, 11 replies)
Pubic grooming
Visualise the scene, about 8 or 9 workmates of various sexes in the pub one Friday lunchtime. One of the girls started to talk about her up and coming wedding. Everyone was rapt as she talked about the cake, all the catering, the reception, who's attending etc and she finally got on to describe her wedding dress. "Oh" she said "that reminds me I must trim by bush".

Of course the other girls in the pub were gob-smacked and several pints of beer was expelled through noses and down shirts before the whole place erupted in laughter.


Apparently, she was talking about the tree outside her front door as she didn't want to snag her new wedding dress on it.
(, Mon 16 May 2011, 21:06, 4 replies)

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