When good deeds go bad....
Here's a late and lame one.

Back in the day (from about 14-24) I was a proper metal head. Enormous armoured boots, black jeans (no leather trousers, I had some pride), metaller tee shirts, leather waistcoat (ok, so no pride actually) and a big leather biker jacket with metal badges on for bands such as Pantera, The Almighty, Maiden etc etc.

Thusly am I dressed for the obligatory birthday meal out with the parents. A nice little pub near my home, good food, a sly beer, and my lovely parents spoiling me on my 16th birthday. There is even a band making a decent attempt at some old rock (Deep Purple, Alice Cooper, Bon (gag, retch) Jovi etc etc. I'm overdoing the 'Rock God' thing by poking fun at the 'soft as shit' music, but generally having a good time.

Until I return from the toilet to find that my parents, on the spur of the moment, have arranged a special treat: the band are going to do a song specially for me! Wow! Now what shall I pick, and will these old fuckers know it? Hmm,........

Except my parents had chosen for me, and the band announce that they will be giving a rendition of my favourite song in the whole wide world: Everything I Do, by Bryan Adams, the 16 week puke inducing girl friendly number one that makes Def Leppard sound heavier than Cradle of Filth.

I sat there, in my Metallica t-shirt and spiky hair for 6 minutes, pretending to really enjoy one of the most depraved and sugar sweet pieces of music in the world being forced into my ears from a distance of 3 feet. The band had never even played it before, so they were just making it up mostly. My hard man of rock image dissolved 3 bars in, and I just managed to clap at the end with a clenched smile on my face while a pub full of people reclassified me from 'don't mess with him' to 'fucking big pussy'.

So thank you, Mission Impossible, for being such nice blokes and good musicians that you'd have a crack at it, but next time, do the kid a favour and tell the parent to piss off.


Thats one of the longest and most badly written pieces of shit I've ever churned out, so apologies for pretty much all of it.
(NoveltyCondomHead Clanks Wams., Thu 4 Dec 2008, 13:47, Reply)

This happend to me just now.

I was in my office reading a paper, absent-mindedly scratching my face with a pen. I then realised that I was using the wrong side of the pen and had scribbled all over my face and neck, thus forcing me to walk through the department with ink scribbled over my face, to the toilets.
(fibonacci_cunt cunt, cunt, cuntcunt, cuntcuntcunt,..., Thu 4 Dec 2008, 13:38, Reply)

Advice from the Father-In-Law...
I moved in to a new flat at the weekend and, as is customary on such occasions, the family Tights and the family Mrs. Tights descended on our flat to help us pack and move on to our new pad. It’s a lovely place, new build, posh kitchen, nice carpets – and completely unfurnished. One hellish trip to IKEA later, and we’re back in the flat with many flat packed boxes, a couple of Allen Keys, and a grim determination that we are going to build stuff.

Lucky for me then, that Mrs. Tights’ Dad was a chippy when he was in the Royal Air Force. He is also, without doubt, the man that I am most scared of. He is an MOD Policeman now, and a dog handler to boot. He does several different martial arts, and in short is hard as nails. But a great guy who I get on with – I just wouldn’t want to be on his wrong side, if you like.

So anyway, me and he are building the new bed. The frame is up, and we’re just using the cams to winch the thing together. At which point, he turns to me and says:

“Now, not that you do, but when you’ve fornicated on this don’t forget to tighten these up again. It doesn’t take much to loosen them off the first few times.”

I knelt there, Allen Key in hand, and stammered “Er... yeah. Thanks.” Then we got on with tightening each others nuts.
( Devil_In_Tights the *real* DiT!, Thu 4 Dec 2008, 13:34, Reply)

Oh, it feels good! So it says...
When Helo was a very, very young Helo. The world was a bright and wonderful place, there was so much to see and do and he wanted to do it all.

So one day, it was your typical primary school boys toliets meeting (we were about 4-6 at the time) and some smart arse said that if you rub the bell end of your penis (paraphrased) it'll feel good.

Wow, could this possibly be true? Could this day get any better? Oh yes it could, young Helo has to go to assembly and sit in front of his school while the rest of his class gives a play. Young Helo sits at the front and gets rather bored...

But hey, what amazing bit of advise has just been departed to him? Off course! Play with his penis!

In front, of the whole, damn, school. All 500 of them.

So there I am diddling with one hand and the class "acting" in the background. Headteacher comes over, whacks me over the head with a piece of paper and drags me out of the assembly.

Cue parents meeting, teachers meeting, headteachers meeting and what's the best excuse young Helo could give? "It hurted..." This was swiftly followed by a distinct chop/chop sound and three weeks of pain followed by a slightly different looking diddiler..

Yes boys and girls, I'd been caught pre-emptively jerking off in front of my primary school at the tender ages of 4-6 (cannot for the life of me remember how old exactly) and then circumsticed for the fun of it. It still makes me cringe but not as half as my mum trying to figure out why...
(Helo, Thu 4 Dec 2008, 13:20, 1 reply)

Beware of looking up people on outlook.
Going back a few years now... one of the guys I work with sent me an e-mail with a web link 'worth checking out' and a quick look confirmed this.

It was the homepage of one of our senior managers who had a passion for all things LARP (live action roleplay), throughout the site there were plans he'd drawn up for Saceships, mission statements, mission reports, the whole shebang, he'd even converted a bedroom into a futuristic operations room.
I'm an open minded guy but theres something very funny about a 50yr old guy in badly painted papermache armour chasing a bloke in a rubber orc mask accross a carpark in Glasgow and there were plenty of photo's along those lines.

So I looked him up on Outlook and having confirmed it was actually him standing in front of a Land Raider Tank (Land Rover with bits stuck on) E-mailed another mate the URL and the message 'Check this out, HAHAHAHAHA!'

Only I make the error of ommiting to remove the managers name from the 'To' field when I looked him up.

The next day I received an e-mail from the manager which said 'Yes, thats my website, what of it?'

I cringed.... then I panicked... for about two days.
Then it struck me that I hadnt actually directly insulted him so I hatched a cunning plan to cover up my mistake. I replied with
'sorry didnt mean to copy you in, its just me and my friend are really into Space Marine LARP and found it funny that you were too.'

I expected he'd perhaps respond with a short message and that would be that...

And so began a 6 month web of deceit with him e-mailing me a couple of times a week with updates on his Space Marine Chapters progress and me frantically searching the net for info so that I could maintain the charade.

I should have come clean early on... or resigned.. as I now know more about the Warhammer 40K universe than any sane man should. Fortunatly he left the company and I never heard from him again.
(Mr_Yarrrrr, Thu 4 Dec 2008, 13:14, 2 replies)

Unemployable.
I had recently left college and had been offered a second interview at GCHQ. The first interview had gone really well (obviously) and I had made quite an impact with a rather nice young lady who worked as receptionist. We had chatted while I was waiting and on leaving she had wished me all the best and said she hoped I got the position.

Second interview day arrives, I am in a sharp looking suit, new shoes shining, hair recently trimmed and feeling positive, confident and ready to land a job (I had bummed around for a long time and needed to join the real world) and maybe land a date with the aforementioned girl. So I arrive, park the car and start trudging across the frosty pathway.

As I near the entrance to the department I see in a large window the lady I was interviewed by and the object of my desire plus a few of her colleagues. They notice me and wave to which I attempt to casually turn, wave and keep balance on the icy ground with my new leather soles.

I failed miserably.

I did one of those comical Scooby Doo 'run on the spot' actions before landing face first onto the concrete. I looked up to see their shocked faces (and some of the blokes pissing themselves laughing - twats) as blood started to pour from my forehead all over my face, shirt and suit. Plus I had somehow ripped my trousers across the pocket to my arse and my bum was peeking out.

I got up, dusted myself down and with the tiny fraction of dignity that I thought I could muster, waved, walked back to the car and went home. They called a number of times to see how I was and to reschedule but I never replied.
(Tugnut Knight of the Hot Knives, Thu 4 Dec 2008, 13:03, Reply)

A friend of mine
was lying in bed lazily with his new girlfriend one warm Sunday morning while she read the papers.

Sleepily, he rolls slightly over, forgetting that he's not alone for a moment.

"Blarrrrrrt-_Parp!"

Oh dear. With a start he becomes fully awake. Not only has he forgotten himself and farted, the sudden change in pitch was very worrisome indeed.

During the awkward silence that ensued, Phil - ahem, my friend shuffled slightly and his fears were confirmed by a slightly warm and damp sensation in the seat of his pants. Stealthily, he slightly opened one of his eyes to check his girlfriend's reaction.

Other than a wrinkling of her nose, his girlfriend remained stoically unmoved and turns the page of her Sunday Times supplement. Her delicate femininity seemed to be rising above the fetid fumes if you will.

My friend reflected on his predicament. If he got up to deal with the leakage immediately it would be obvious that he'd just sharted. He decided instead to continue to pretend to be asleep for five minutes before appearing to wake up and head to the bathroom, whereupon he'd deal with the situation.

Thirty more seconds of painful silence passed.

"I've gotten away with it" thought my friend "I've gotten away with it".

Whereupon the silence was finally broken by his girlfriend.

"Are you going to get up and wipe that or what?"
(Bicycle Repairman "you're also a bit of a wanker", Thu 4 Dec 2008, 12:46, 10 replies)