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This is a question Apparently I'm a sex offender

I was once paid £15 to count the amount of people visiting a hairdresser. I stood outside for 3 hours with a clicky counter in my pocket, pressing it every time a person entered. Suddenly there's a copper in front of me, I turn and there's another behind. "What are you up to sunshine?" "A rival hairdresser wants to count the competition" "Well, there's been a call from the shop owner that there's a ginger bloke standing outside fiddling with his cock." Have you ever done anything that made strangers think you were a pervert?

(, Thu 17 Aug 2006, 22:20)
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This question is now closed.

genghis 26...
...Your story reminds me of a few months ago, I woke up and opened my curtains to see two foxes stuck together, going at it like there was no tomorrow right outside my window. We all stared at each other in shock, then for some reason I took a picture of them on my camera phone - I don;t really know why, but I'll blame shock.

I'm the only person I know who owns hardcore fox porn, but if there's some sort of fetish group/community I can join, please let me know.
(, Mon 21 Aug 2006, 13:44, Reply)
Sorry for lateness
But I've just come back after running away. I only ran away with Princess Zara Phillips. But then we got caught shagging on top of Big Ben.

Now I'm a sex offender who has run away and has encountered the royals.
(, Mon 21 Aug 2006, 13:22, Reply)
I was accused of being a Pædo the other day
I as walking down the street when a football rolled towards me.
I stopped it and kicked it to the person who I assumed had kicked it.

At which point a youthful yob starts shouting at me for touching his ball

I touched him on the shoulder and said 'calm down'

He followed me all the way doen the street calling me a Pædo - Ah the joys of Oxford
(, Mon 21 Aug 2006, 13:13, Reply)
It wasn't only the car that got serviced...
I used to work as the PA to the manager of a Toyota & Lexus garage 1/2 way between Brixton & Streatham.

We used to get quite a few shady characters getting their top of the range Lexi (a-ha!) serviced which normally went to the most senior mechanic on duty since they were so difficult - I saw more work done with a laptop than with a spanner.

So it wasn't that unusual to get a visit from the police to ask about service records for cars that had been impounded in relation to drugs offences or gun crime. One morning, two coppers arrived & had a meeting with my boss.

I had to swiftly organise a disciplinary meeting with one of the junior mechanics. They always had to take the car on a test drive after a service to see if everything was running OK.

Turned out this guy had been photographed by the police picking up a prozzie on Streatham High Road in a customer's car. The police had sent a summons to the owner's house & he had proved to them that the car was being serviced by us at the time the offence happened.

So the mechanic obviously had to be sacked but even the manager admitted that, unofficially, the guy was a f***ing legend. The reception he got from all the other mechanics as he left the site was like a conquering hero.

And I particularly liked the idea of the owner's missus giving him a hard time as he was a right bastard
(, Mon 21 Aug 2006, 12:48, Reply)
i was a "stalker"
i used to work in this coffee shop, one of our regular customers(she ran the clothes shop next door) decided to send her staff in to get her coffee instead. i started chatting to this one who came in..."so your boss sends you in for coffee" that sort of thing, i asked her out for a drink one day and she said no, and all was fine. Unfortunately, a few months later, it turned out that she had told some people i worked with that i was not only stalking her, but everybody else she worked with and had even followed one girl home on the bus one night! It turned out one of her friends happened to be at the same bus stop as me one night after work, i 'foolishly' asked her if my bus had come yet...

i am clearly a complete sex maniac and bastard
(, Mon 21 Aug 2006, 12:43, Reply)
Along the same line as most but...
me and a few friends like to get out of our own town once in a while and inflict ourselves on some other poor bastards for a change on a night out. One such night we were in Stoke, a bunch of us and I had my trusty camera which I use to take random shots of the nightclubs and people generally pilled of their tiny boobies and having a good time.
Then one of our number decides we need some 'reaction' shots.

So here's six 'out-of-town' lads and ladies, standing outside the girls bogs, taking a picture and shouting "SUPRISE" every time some unsuspecting lady emerges from the shithouse.

The bouncer didn't really find it funny and decided to shout "SUPRISE" as he escorted us out with a size 12 doctor martin boot. Got some ace shots though.
(, Mon 21 Aug 2006, 12:41, Reply)
"Milky Milky"
I used to work at the head office of a nation chain of tyre fitters that rhymes with "Motor Gay". On the way home of an evening, I made a habit of popping into the well-stocked newsagents round the corner for something to read on the train home.

On one occasion, and in a blazing hurry to make the station, I grabbed my usual title from the shelf, paid and *just* made the packed train, clutching my prize to my chest.

It was only then that I realised that I had not picked up my usual music mag, but a publication called "Milk Maids", ninety-six pages in praise of large-chested and lactating young ladies in various erotic, milky poses.

Standing room only, I couldn't even change carriages to escape the pitiful stares of my fellow commuters; and apart from that time with the accidental public nudity, it was the longest eight minute train ride of my life.

Anyone want a skank mag? Free...
(, Mon 21 Aug 2006, 11:29, Reply)
Not me
but it should have been. I once when I was 6 or 7 managed to get a boy expelled from School. He'd just joined the schooll - from Australia I think. He was anxious to fit in. I taught him to play my favourite game of that time, 'I'll show you mine if you show me yours.' He took some persuading.
Trouble was all the teacher on dinner duty saw was me peering under the table and him at the end of this long table with his willy out. Cue me being called out of P.E and questioned about what I saw. Me being a quiet embarrased little girl, when I wasn't playing these games. He was expelled from that moment.

I expect to this day he has on his records that he is a sexual deviant - whereas it's me.
(, Mon 21 Aug 2006, 11:19, Reply)
I used to go to a swimming pool...
...where instead of one changing room for ladies and one for gents, it was one huge room split into cubicles. Some clever chap thought it was a good idea to drill holes through the cubicles walls for spying. I looked through one of the holes to find an eye staring straight back at me. God knows how long that fucking pervert was watching me wank over the lady undressing on the opposite side.
(, Mon 21 Aug 2006, 10:17, Reply)
Gotta love our colonial brothers
QUOTE:

what about Neighbours, Home and Away, Heartbreak High, The Delinquents and Stefan Fucking Dennis.


The thing with Neighbours and similar soap operas is, in Australia they're mainly aimed at people aged about 15-16.

You are yet to answer for Stefan Dennis.

I think this perhaps links to the criminal record thing too - Better a dead Brazilian (on an expired Visa) than Stefan Dennis' album.
(, Mon 21 Aug 2006, 8:37, Reply)
Mucho pussy.
Years ago, when I first moved out of the family home, I managed to get a large, very comfortable room in the house of a woman that my father knew. She needed a lodger and I wanted somewhere to live, so everyone was happy at the arrangement, especially me as apart from the fact she had a daughter who was about 6, most of the neighbours were either very quiet or elderly, or both.
Intially everything was going swimmingly, until the weather got warmer and I'd have the windows in the room open at nights, only to discover that the back garden was cat shag central. The woman whose house it was didn't have a cat, nor did the near neighbours, but it seemed cats would come from miles around to fuck in the garden and make a godforsaken noise before, during and after there feline lovemaking session. On a good night there'd "only" be about 4 cats and a bad night what sounded like about 20 of the little fuckers.
Initially I tried hissing at them or shouting fuck off, but in an attempt to be a good neighbour I didn't want to shout or hiss to loud and disturb the old folks next door. My next ploy was to lob one and two pences pieces at the bastards, but try hitting mainly dark coloured cats humping in a pitch black garden, to say it wasn't easy is an understatement(I think I had a hit ratio of about 1 in 500) and besides I was swiftly running out of shrapnel to sling at them.
The situation was getting worse, more cats by the night and it was really beginning to fuck me off. Until one night at the end of my tether, I had a eureka moment. How about using the flash on my camera. The first time I tried it I couldn't believe my luck, the 3 or 4 pairs of cats rutting each other instantly stopped and just fled. I was so chuffed. Every night they'd come back and every night I'd be there putting my cunning plan into action. Well that was every night for about a week when I suddenly realised what it would look like to any onlooking neighbours. Yes me standing there waiting to take "pornographic" pictures of cats getting it on.
I decided it'd be better to be kept awake all night every night than to get a reputation like that.
There was never any film in the camera, honest guv.
(, Mon 21 Aug 2006, 2:20, Reply)
Shut up, chivalrous idiot and cop a look at that
I was brought up a nice boy - not gay, just being well versed in what was nice and what wasn't by my catholically eager parents. Sex out of marriage was a sin and looking at topless ladies when on holiday in the south of france was evidence of being a budding sex pervert.

When I worked in an electronics factory in Cornwall my bench had a bin under it which the cleaning lady, a 30-something yam-yam from back home in the black country used to have to fiddle about under my desk to empty, usually squatting down.

Cue the time when one summer she was wearing a low cut v-neck and it billowedd out at the front when she was leaning under the desk right next to where I was working. Trying not to peek I told her in the most subtle of ways that I could (if i wanted) see right down her cleavage and I'm sure that was not what she intended.

Backfired on me. She went through the entire p[lace yelling that I was looking down her top when all I was trying to do was to tell her that I was giving her fair warning that anyone could .

But I am now older and wiser, and when I get a look at any promising cleavage I enjoy it in silence.
(, Mon 21 Aug 2006, 1:43, Reply)
There used to be a transvestite

who lived in the flats opposite my house. Every Saturday and Sunday morning he'd be there, dressed in his nightie and wig, leaning on his windowsill staring out into oblivion. I must admit I used to get some kind of perverse pleasure out of...well...simply watching him.

Fair play to him though, he had blonde, brunette, and redhead wigs. Not only that, he actually had wigs in these colours of all different lengths so one week he had the just above shoulder length wig on, then a couple of weeks later he'd have the shoulder length one and so on. He took the art of tranny-ing to a whole new level in our neighbourhood and raised it up a notch which I give him full credit for.

Anyway, he moved away about 5 years ago and recently I was off for a night out and ordered a taxi. Who should the taxi driver end up to be???...yep, it was the tranny guy. Just as we were leaving my street he said "I used to live in one of the flats just round the corner", I had to stop myself saying "Yep, I remember you mate, you were the hairy geezer I used to see at the weekends in the frilly gown".

Like I say, his clothes were good, his makeup wasn't too bad and his hair was always in prime condition. The only thing that worries me is the fact that his chest hair and his moustache were the things that turned me on the most.

Apologies for length, but I bet he wished he hadn't been born with any at all
(, Mon 21 Aug 2006, 0:37, Reply)
knocked up??? knocked out more like
when i was 18 (im 22 now) i was round at my friends who had a 16 year old sister.. (very nice) and who he was very protective of.. however during chats some of the comments i made and his reactions kinda gave me the idea that he was ok with me having a go with her.. anyways kinda being a bit nervous and not knowing how to start anything she starts giving me lip.. me.. being usual idiot i am.. goes and get my mates toy bb gun and starts shooting her in the backside.. (she was wearing tight leggings) eventually i run out of ammo and it ends in a wrestling match... which i was rather enjoying.. it ended up with me stuck in between her legs lying on top of her with her arms pined to the floor.. as soon as i realised this i got a massive boner.. which i knew she could feel but didnt seem to bother her.. as things started to heat up and with her starting to wriggle underneath me, i moved to get a better placement.. at which points she laughs and quickly knees me at the base of my skull... my words went something along the lines of oh sh.... before passing out... needless to say she ran off and i didnt see her for 3 months..

now weve been going out for 2 years
(, Sun 20 Aug 2006, 23:56, Reply)
I was once falsely accussed by this malicious van wrighter
of flirting with this girl who doesn't even exist and asking what boots she's wearing over an unspecified medium.

I was also accused of being a pervert merely for having some pictures allegedly of two people's wives in my photogroup profile alongside many others of feet in boots.
(, Sun 20 Aug 2006, 23:15, Reply)
I don't wear spectacles
But if I did, I'd do what a friend of mine did in a hoity toity hairdressing salon with loads of totty in.

He started fiddling underneath the cape they put around you to keep cut hair out of your shirt.

The hairdressing girls thought he was cleaning his glasses, since the older, supervisor woman called him a "clatty bastard" and whipped off the cape. To reveal him wanking.
(, Sun 20 Aug 2006, 22:24, Reply)
My ex-husband
recently got sent down for kiddy-fiddling.

It happened after we split up and was nothing to do with me, but even so, I thought I'd get some stick over it. To my astonishment, I've had none at all.

So I can only apologise for wasting your time by pointing out that NOBODY thinks I'm a sex offender.
(, Sun 20 Aug 2006, 21:34, Reply)
Purely Coincidental
Last year, living as I was in one of the crapper examples of university accomodation, I had to share a bathroom with the eleven other people on my floor. Not fun when over half those people all want to get clean and do themselves up for a night out, I can tell you.

Understandably, this also led to more than one occasion of the person coming out of the bathroom meeting the person going in, usually with an exchange of greetings and/or cheerful smiles. Perfectly normal for shared accomodation, but there was one girl, a quiet, petite young lass named Bev, who had a habit of coming out from a shower and, with timing that would normally take a good deal of patient choreography, opening the door just as I reached for the handle. Not just occasionally, but almost every time.

I never really gave it much thought, but seeing a chap she didn't really know that well wearing nothing but a robe and a grin, standing right outside the door, more often than not muttering absently to himself, with one hand reached forward in a groping motion was probably quite a worrying experience for the poor girl, particularly as it was a very frequent occurance. No wonder she always used to say I'd frightened her before padding quickly to her room.

So, if you do happen to be reading this Bev, I swear I wasn't trying to perv over you in the shower or anything, it was just astounding coincidence.

Mind you, she did look rather nice standing there wet and wrapped loosely in a towel.
(, Sun 20 Aug 2006, 20:39, Reply)
None of these are about me. No.
My grandad used to be a governor for the primary school near where he lives. The kids there know him and think he's a nice old man. (He's actually the melding of the DNA of Father Jack, Victor Meldrew, Alf Garnett, and the grumpy old git from the cartoon in the Mail, but they don't know that). He thinks it's perfectly normal to go to fetes and so on up there and take photos of the kids bouncing on bouncy castles and throwing coconuts and doing kid stuff. We're just waiting for the news some copper's arrested him for taking photos of random children.

My A-level German teacher may well have been a sex offender. Among the many freaky things he did were to get some poetry fridge magnet things and spell out 'penetrate hot blonde' (there was a blonde girl in the room, but the only person who honestly thought she was hot was her... the rest of us thought she was slightly inbred-looking). He gave out addresses of German grot sites to get round the porn blocker, told us in disgusting detail about his sex life with his 'Somalian wife', and that he wore a skirt at weekends - apparently a Somalian thing that took a knack to do up 'because it keeps falling down and then everyone sees my pants when I am wrestling with my daughter'. Who was four. His name was also Ingolf, which just sounds like it means 'pervy man who hides in bushes'.

EDIT: Gah. Forgot this one. It's also worth mentioning that as well as his other weirdnesses, Stalker Boy is very fond of granny porn.
(, Sun 20 Aug 2006, 18:01, Reply)
My Dad nearly got arrested for photographing a load of kids
My dad (in his 70s)decided that he would do a nostalgia thing and visit the places where he used to live, see how things had changed, take a few photos, etc.

So there he is taking a photo (at break time) of the primary school my sister used to attend.

Tap on shoulder ... 'Excuse me sir' .. etc.
(, Sun 20 Aug 2006, 17:48, Reply)
When I worked at a nursery

I taught the kids how to play Pong. Not the simple computer based game, but the one where all the children remove their clothes and we all take it in turns to sniff each others genitals. The game wasn't over until a unanimous decision was reached on whos bits ponged the most.
(, Sun 20 Aug 2006, 16:27, Reply)
On behalf of a friend

I once went into a newsagents to buy the latest edition of MUFC weekly. I was nervous. I got the shakes. I became too embaressed and ended up coming out with a Playboy mag and 3 packets of johnnies. I'd rather people think I'm a perv than a fucking Man Utd fan.
(, Sun 20 Aug 2006, 16:23, Reply)
School Perv
We used to have music class, and this paticular week we were learning how to play the drums. We were all sitting in a circle around the drum kit watching this girl I used to date (it ended badly) play the drums surprisingly well. Due to my postion in the circle, and her legs being apart due to the drum playing, I had full view up her skirt. Being a good boy, i didnt look, but it didnt stop her from telling the class wanker that i was "looking up her skirt". He then proceeded to give me a beating infront of everyone for "being a perv".
(, Sun 20 Aug 2006, 15:47, Reply)
Nicholas
When I was a 15 year old in high school, I hated P.E and used to come up with excuses not to do it. One day I arrived late and knew I wouldnt be allowed into the changing rooms after they had been locked so thught I was really clever and would get to sit out. Instead, The P.E teacher said "just take your tights and jumper off, and do it in your shirt and skirt.

It was like an obstacle course that day, set up in the gym, and one of the bits was a bench at 45 degrees against a climbing frame, which you had to run up then hold onto the bar above and jump off, through the climbing frame. anyway as I did it, my skirt went up behind me and remembering I was wearing a thong, i quickly pulled my skirt back down, and carried on, no harm done.

Until I got to the changing rooms at the end, and one of the chaviest girls in the year announced loudly "eeew she doesnt wear any knickers!" Everyone of course believed her, and I was heckled about it for my remaining year in school. During which I earned the nickname Nicholas. (knickerless, quite clever for a chav)
(, Sun 20 Aug 2006, 15:02, Reply)

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