Hello, I am a mod
and right now I'm chortling away at the thought of you lot mashing your fingers to a pulp on the F5 key as you wonder when this QOTW is ever going to change.
( Davros' Granddad STOP BEING SO REASONABLE!, Thu 29 Jul 2010, 16:57, 11 replies)

Laugh at the cancer man
For my sins I used to review shows at the Edinburgh Fringe. Ye gods and little fishes, I sat through some keech and could not walk out.

The worst was Edward the Deckchair - an "hilarious!!!" student revue. I will not bore you with details of how utterly shite this was but I've had funnier kicks in the happy sacks.

The one amusing bit was when a member of the cast tried to improvise and started mocking a bald man in the audience of five. Don't get me wrong: the banter was painfully unfunny. The unintentional humour came from the fact that the rest of us could see what those on stage could not: that the man's tufty baldness was obviously caused by some very heavy chemotherapy.
( calgacus Non sum qualis eram bonae sub regno Cynarae, Thu 29 Jul 2010, 14:43, 4 replies)

My last day of primary school
has largely been purged from my memory by years of ill-advised hedonism, but I still remember this for some reason.

My primary school, by the way, was named after Oswald Mosley. I shit thee not. It was called Mosley Primary School, and the school logo is a very Nazi looking eagle. Really. Here's the website.

I emailed them a few years back to tell them the story of the time in assembly when the headmistress brought out a bible signed and donated to the school by Oswald Mosley. She told us that he had been a very famous local man and an important historical figure. I asked them if they were aware that the school was named after a local fascist, and if they would consider changing it. I never heard back from them.

That's all totally unrelated though.

OK, last day of primary school, and as the final few minutes of the day ticked down, 20 or so youngsters excitedly prepared for the moment when they would never have to return to the Nazi-est little primary school in the East Midlands.

James, a friend of mine (the same guy from my previous QOTW), shouts out "three cheers for Mr. Cameron!".

Mr. Cameron looks pleased for a moment.

Silence.

I start laughing uncontrollably. Rolling on the floor, crying, unable to breathe.

Eveyone else in the class laughs too, but then they stop and I continue. Then everyone starts laughing again. For the rest of the class, it cycles between 'funny' and 'unfunny' a few times. But I'm having some sort of comedy seizure. I'm just beginning to recover when I open my eyes and see that poor Mr Cameron, a big, blokey 30 year old primary school teacher, has started crying like a little girl. He runs out of the room, wet-faced and humiliated, and I continue to laugh, with everyone else staring at me like I am a total pre-teen cunt, until the final bell rings out the end of school.
(leviticus no longer likes the cut of your gib on, Thu 29 Jul 2010, 14:04, 5 replies)

Mongs on bouncy castles.
Ab-so-fucking-lutely, arse-shudderingly hilarious to me - not even remotely funny to the other people at the school fete whose wooly tutting only made me cry and laugh even more.
(Tugnut Knight of the Hot Knives, Thu 29 Jul 2010, 13:50, 6 replies)

My husband is-a crazy
He say 'I no want to eat-a peanut', then he go and eat peanut! But he-a allergic to the peanut! Him-a swell up like blimp again! Ha ha! Oh no!
(TheManWithThePlan cussed your mum on, Thu 29 Jul 2010, 13:43, 1 reply)

Shit, I forgot it was Thursday.
Aren't I stupid?

Quickly, laugh at the stupid person* before the QOTW changes!


*_{Not him, me.}
(Falstaff's Spiritual Successor, Thu 29 Jul 2010, 13:06, 7 replies)

I mocked a shit story on QOTW
As a result I've received several hilarious gaz messages from serious QOTW'ers. I feel guilty that I should really be putting my time to better use.
( Light In Chains maker of the ikea sofa, Thu 29 Jul 2010, 10:59, 120 replies)

This happened only yesterday, in appropriate timing.
I'm currently living apart from my girlfriend, in more ways than one. We're in different cities, and no matter how hard you try the physical distance creeps into the emotional. It may only be slight, but it's there. Fortunately, we're only a morning's travel from each other, so the impact is limited; it's the the fact we don't have many opportunities to make the easy journey, because one or the other of us is working, or otherwise busy. She has resits to study for; I have to undertake serious work on the house to make it a home.

So when we do get to see each other we tend to make the most of it. Yesterday she arrived early - like, ridiculously early - and we had breakfast, and played some xbox, and spent some other time together that's none of your business. Then after lunch, I took her strolling round my city - the one was born in, live in, love, but she's barely familiar with. In the Grassmarket we paused for the single cigarette I allow myself when I'm with her - giving up is easy, but I have good associations with smoking around her - and a pint at one of the open-air beer gardens on the extended square full of people enjoying themselves.

People strolled or sat all around us, enjoying themselves, taking the air. In the distance something sounded like an argument, but it was far away. A group of children strolled past us with their carers, and as we watched them skip and stumble by, I leaned over and whispered in my beloved's ear:
"Did you know, retarded kids bounce further when you drop them?",
and she fell off the bench, weeping with laughter.


_{Apologies for floridity}
(Falstaff's Spiritual Successor, Thu 29 Jul 2010, 9:50, 5 replies)

Got out of the tube on Tuesday morning, and standing at the entrance was a very pretty girl in her late teens/early twenties.
She was dressed very like a cheerleader - cropped pink top, short pink skirt, white socks, trainers. She had a lovely face and long dark hair - she was a real eye-catcher.

Imagine my surprise, then, when she walked off with the massively penduluminal, spasticated gait of the club-footed.

I had to pretend to be having a coughing fit.
( A Vagabond lol commie povvo, Thu 29 Jul 2010, 9:47, 1 reply)

I want to see W-W-WINDOWS!!!!!
Obligatory disclaimer for being a heartless bastard:
We were young, we were drunk, we were wrong.

And so it was that we were on the Eurostar in those heady days following its grand opening, when the price of a Eurotunnel share exceeded the price of a packet of rizlas. As a school kid in the south east of England, me and my classmates were afforded the rare privilege of attending a multicultural, bilingual festival in Lille, to be attended by schools from Northern France and England. It was to be a culturally enriching experience to enhance the mutual understanding of two different nations, under the proud banner of Euro Enthusiasm. Boney M was even doing a live set! Golly. Needless to say a few of us skipped the whole thing and got ruthlessly bollocksed on pastis in a dodgy backs street café. It was ace.

On the train on the way back, our drink dumbed senses were alerted by the panting of a kid a few seats back. It got worse and worse and there was a general feeling of concern mounting in the carriage, until the word "claustrophobe" begin to be bounced around. At this point the kid was in the corridor, breathing into a paper bag and saying "I want to see w-w-windows!!!!!" and sounding a lot like Dustin Hoffman in Rainman. Laughing was not an appropriate response to this boy's plight, but It was I am ashamed to say it was the sniggering path that a few pissed kids took. In retrospect, I suppose his bravery for trying to overcome his fears in quite a dramatic fashion should be saluted, but at the time we just couldn't understand why a claustrophobe would ever take the Eurostar, especially to see Boney M....
(impossibly witty twat No, YOUR Mum etc etc, Thu 29 Jul 2010, 9:38, 3 replies)

It's probably been mentioned
But this is just so damn funny:
www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-1293165/Nanny-30-died-sexual-arousal-watching-pornography.html
(Darramouss Powered by Monster Munch and hate., Thu 29 Jul 2010, 1:02, 14 replies)

I blaim my father
Christmas eve is a big deal in my family, big party, we take turns hosting it, lots of work yet it's always a pain.

When I was about 18 it was our turn to host. All was going well, untill my little cousin announces she has brought her clarinet and will be playing us "away in a mainger". This was a supprise, but as she was only young, about 10, you can't really say no.

Family is gathered, music turned off, song book open and everyone await with baited breath. The first note rings out clear and correct. Maybe she might have some tallent after all....then silence. Note 2. Silence. Note 3. Silence. There is a 2 second gap between each note, which dosent exactly help the flow of music. My eyes drift across the room. Aunties have polite smiles and sympathetic looks, uncles have expressions of tedious acceptence that they are in for the long hall.

Then I see my father. He's never been a subtle man, he's very loud in every sense, his yawn is like a shout, sneezes can be heard by people walking past the house and his laugh is suitably booming. I see him having some sort of seizure trying to keep his laugh underwraps, entire body shaking with effort, he seems me, my look of ammusment and he let's go, he roars with laughter, I try to tell him he's a monster but I start laughing too, all the while, a little girl plays on bravely before she too starts to laugh and says we are putting her off.

All seemed to end well, until auntie boring declairs we need an encoure and must all sing. At first the song came out choppy. A. Way. In. A. Main. Ger. Until people started to extend the notes and it became like songs of praise in slow motion. This tickled both me and the man who planted my seed. Father and son lay on the floor holding thier sides in fits of laughter at a childs attempt to spread Christmas cheer.

Next time I saw her, she had given up the claranet.
(Mong goose, Wed 28 Jul 2010, 23:13, 1 reply)

One more
I was consulting again, this time in London. A colleague and I were working on a very good site. Our main site contact was a nice guy, friendly, and helpful. He was also out, and flamboyant. He'd happily discuss his conquests, his many games of hide the sausage, and all sorts.

So, my colleague and I were building servers in a machine room, and talking about the customer guys. The convo got onto this particular gentleman, and we both agreed he was a top bloke. Then we both cracked up.

We got ourselves mostly sorted, managed to stop laughing, and started breathing normally. Then came the ugly moment of comparing what we'd been about to say.

I'd been about to say "Yeah, you always know he'd be straight with you!"

However, we decided that he'd won with the utterly stupendous comment: "Yeah, he wouldn't stab you in the back!"

Luckily the machine room was nowhere near the office where this chap worked.
(purplegod counting down for Christmas!, Wed 28 Jul 2010, 22:59, Reply)

Oh, God, I can't help but laugh, at this
A woman goes to Lourdes to get her cerebral palsy fixed by the magic genie, and comes back with two broken legs. She dies.

www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-1298252/Sick-woman-went-Lourdes-cure-cerebral-palsy-returns-broken-legs.html
(Iggy Pop's Teeth, Wed 28 Jul 2010, 22:49, 6 replies)

Smug, smug, ouch!
So my brother was sharpening a knife. I was being all supportive and making sure that he was doing OK.

He smugly and condescendingly told me he knew what he was doing. Then took a big chunk out of one finger. I was sympathetic. He push dme out of the way and stuck it under a tap, just as Pink Goddess told him that'd hurt. It did.

We wrapped him up and decided to take him off to the local hospital, where they have a minor injuries clinic. We joked about a bit on the way there, and I carried on teasing him gently as we booked him in with the nurses. I came back from making a phone call to find a nurse had called him through. He was being sewed up as I got back. I just managed to catch the nurse asking him if he had a partner that they could call... or if this hand *was* his partner. This is where I lost it completely.

He's down to four fingers across both hands which he hasn't managed to scar up permanently. Yet.
(purplegod counting down for Christmas!, Wed 28 Jul 2010, 22:27, 1 reply)

Someone else did this to me...
For those who didn't ever experience Windows NT 4.0, Terminal Server Edition, it wasn't great. I was on-site being a computer consultant, and the customer had one of these boxes. I was divorcing by ex at the time, and thinks were a bit raw. Indeed, these guys had had to cope with me turning up and moaning about my ex and the problems I was having.

As I stroll in, this happens:

Customer 1: "Damn server's still a bit unstable!"
Customer 2: "Don't tell purple god, or he'll try and marry it!"
Me: "Err, hi guys..."

I left at this point to compose myself. When I got back, they'd managed to stifle their giggles to the point where you'd hardly know they'd been pissing themselves laughing. So I told them that I'd laughed too. They apologised at lunch through the medium of beer. All was well, and I felt a damn sight better for that.
(purplegod counting down for Christmas!, Wed 28 Jul 2010, 22:19, 2 replies)

Pearoast (in handy bullet point format)
* Travelling home from work on one of those small shuttle buses.
* Cyclist pulls out in front of the bus.
* Bus driver brakes hard.
* Old lady on the front set of seats slides along the floor and ends up on her back right next to the driver.

Hilarious, absolutely fucking hilarious.
( mr.dogshit The worlds premier anthropomorphic canine faeces, Wed 28 Jul 2010, 20:45, Reply)