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This is a question That's when I knew it was over...

Nice and simple this week. Just tell us the exact moment you knew that relationship, that job or that penchant for custard-dipped young boys was over.

(, Thu 21 Jul 2005, 10:45)
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This question is now closed.

that's when it SHOULD have been over...
... if i had any sense.

those of you who bother to read the drivel i post on here will know that i am on-again-off-again involved with my boss, a pretty loathsome individual and all round nasty and alcoholic waste of space. with a terrible snoring disorder.

so we were lying on the bed a while ago and he was asleep. i was pretty much dressed as it was about 4am and was trying to be bothered to get up and go home. suddenly he let rip with the most god almighty fart known to man. this did not amuse me. the smell was indescribable and, worst of all, it was such an offensive fart that he had woken himself up. never a good sign.

shaking his head and looking blearily around, he jumped off the bed and shot into the bathroom. within seconds, i heard the attractive sound of snoring coming from the toilet. nice.

but after a moment i realised that the smell was still lingering. peeling open my own bloodshot eyes, i noticed the dark stain on the sheets right. next. to. my. fucking. head. a leopard with curry up its ass couldn't have moved that quickly. i jumped up and finished getting dressed. the dirty bastard had skidded on the sheets. it was all over. and i don't just mean all over the sheets.

or was it? i couldn't find my right boot. eventually, as the snoring from the bathroom increased in crescendo, i turned the light on. and nearly barfed and fainted. he had not just followed through but had actually curled out an entire "richard the third". there it sat, coiled on the bed, looking at me. jesus. had he been facing the other way, the foul animal would have shat on ME!

i turned the light off, ran out, jumped in my car and fled home. i was so traumatised i had to wake my flatmate. she laughed herself silly. then she sat up.

"you turned the light off?"

"yes."

"so he would have woken up on the toilet... decided it was time to go back to bed... got back in it in the dark..."

that sentence should NEVER be finished.

apologies for length, it's therapeutic.
(, Thu 21 Jul 2005, 11:44, Reply)
when some of the crowd were
on the pitch.
(, Thu 21 Jul 2005, 11:36, Reply)
My days of taking acid
were completely over when a few of my mates and I went for a walk through some paddocks. We found a lake with some scary eels in there and spent half the night fighting them. We lost, one of us had a broken arm and we all had bruises all over our faces. One of my friends nearly drowned, and it was only through my brave act of jumping in after him, dragging him out (whilst fighting off the eels) and resuscitating him that he survived. After fleeing the scene and returning to our fire we all took stock of the night and tried to recover. 2 of us were quite badly injured by the eels at this stage, and we spent the rest of the night planning revenge on the fuckers when we straightened out.

In the morning we realised that we were at least 14km from the nearest body of water and that 2 of our friends needed an ambulance, quickly.

No idea what we did that night, but we all swear that we were fighting eels in a massive lake, and that we were stealing their powers.
(, Thu 21 Jul 2005, 14:30, Reply)
I was a racetrack groom
when I was 19. Got the job even though I knew nothing about horses, really- but all you really need to know is that they shit a lot, and you get to clean it up and take care of their racing harnesses. That, and that the guys who train the horses (and are usually your boss) are generally arrogant little fuckheads. Mine was no exception.

So one day my boss tells me to get one of my horses ready for training. This means that the horse will be doing basically a dry run for the race, rather than just a jog. No problem, I get her ready and he takes her out for her training.

When a horse has just done a training run, it's standard to give them a bran mash instead of just the usual grain feed. This means that you add a load of bran to it and add warm water until you get something resembling oatmeal. So I make this for my horse, only I add too much water so that it comes out soupy. The boss comments on this, and I ask how it could possibly do any harm. He snorts, makes a comment to the effect that I was a stupid college kid and walks off. I shrug and go back to what I was doing.

Next morning he wants to take that horse out for her jog, so I hook her up to the jog cart and send them off while I go take care of another horse. All is nice and quiet as I work...

What I didn't know, and obviously neither did he, was that the extra water in the bran mash acts like a laxative on the horse. I might as well have fed her a pound of Ex-Lax. Which is a vital piece of information when you're out exercising a horse by sitting in a cart with your feet on either side of the horse's arse and her tail directly in front of your face.

When the peaceful morning was shattered by my boss's voice screaming my name, when I came out and saw him with reeking green horse shit plastered all over his face, and when I had to hold onto a post to keep from falling over with uncontrollable laughter, I knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that it was over. And sure enough, about two days later I was unemployed.

But goddam, it was worth it. More than twenty years later it still brings a warm glow to my evil heart.
(, Wed 27 Jul 2005, 8:32, Reply)
The perils of cybersex
I used to work for a well known telecoms company which shall remain nameless.....but if I say 'it's gud to tork' you might have a clue. I often used to work long and lonely night shifts in the control room and to pass the time I struck up a cyber-friendship with a slightly weird (but extremely filthy-minded) lady from the backwoods of Tenessee. Things progressed rapidly from suggestive innuendo via e-mail to a spot of phone sex then web-cams entered my life and I was doomed. On seeing my sexy southerner by flickering web-cam I found out she was good thirty years older than I thought, with long straggly grey hair and pendulous dugs that swung gently somewhere near her kneecaps.

She was waving her plane ticket to Heathrow in her shrivelled claw, promising to show me a 'real good southern good time' when she arrived to consumate our relationship.

Thank God I told her my name was Joe and I lived in Northumberland.

And to my brother Joe, aplogies if the demented yank arrived on your doorstep demanding wild monkey sex and lifelong commitment.

Rather you than me, mate.

I'll get me coat......
(, Thu 21 Jul 2005, 13:34, Reply)
Mentalist
I'd been hopelessly in love with this girl since the age of about 15. Finally got together about five years later, moved in together, got engaged, made plans to go and get married in Scotland.

Then she went mental.

Started following me round town during my lunch break wearing a wig and sunglasses as she suspected I was having an affair.

Insisted I went to a hypnotist to erase all memories of my previous girlfriends, friends, and even relatives.

Painted the whole of our place pink. I'm talking ceiling, walls, floor, and every object contained within. Everything. Oh, and the car as well.

The final straw was when she demanded that I prove my love to her. And there was only one way I could do this.

It was by writing a letter to her brother telling her how much I loved her. Whilst wanking at the same time.

We didn't get married.
(, Thu 21 Jul 2005, 13:14, Reply)
Lack of Sleep
I used to work as third-line/trouble shooter for a massive multi-national and my job entailed shooting off all over the world at the drop of a hat. One day I'd just arrived back from a job in Spain and rocked up at work for a works piss up in the social club having being awake for the past 48 hours. Of course, after being awake that long booze hits you like a baseball bat across the back of the head and I got massively pissed very quickly.

There was some sort of presentation going on with a lot of Chinese and Japanese from the Asia-Pacific arm of the company and I was swaying about on the edge of the crowd watching these lovely Asian women go up to the podium to receive some sort of sales award.

"What do we in London want to say to these hard-working girls" asked some nameless executive rhetorically?

"ME LOVE YOU LONG TIME TWO-DOLLAR!!!" yells me before falling over and being escorted from the building. And my job.

Ah well. I'd been there for ages anyway and it was time to move on.

Another good memory of when I was
(, Thu 21 Jul 2005, 12:23, Reply)
When they ran out of beer at the North Pole
That's when Inuit were sober.
(, Fri 22 Jul 2005, 14:00, Reply)
evil doers have no humour
i got a shite agency job: litigation and enforcement" for south west water. chasing up big domestic debt.

now, if you don't pay your water bill, every adult in the house is jointly responsible.

get to work one day and all the wankers are having a laugh.

"what's the joke?" I ask

"Oh Ho Ho Ah Ha Ha, sniff, Hahahaha. This family owe £2000. There son just turned 18, so we slapped a CCJ on him. AAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA" says wanker numer 1

"What, you mean you just fucked up his life, financially, on his 18th birthday, because he has crap-with-money parents? I don't see the humour. Run it by me again." says I

"Oh lighten up" says the team manager

"Fuck off, you tiny minded, evil cunts" says I

names have not been changed, as it is a true story
(, Sat 23 Jul 2005, 14:02, Reply)
Well Bugger Me!
Managed to make first for the first time ever. Well I suppose I better dig a decent tale out then...

As regular readers will know I recently went through a short, disastrous marriage and divorce to a fat money-grabbing munter. (Don't ask, even now I *still* don't know why the hell I got married. Put it down to temporary insanity.)

Anyway, after a year of marriage things were extremely rocky but I knew it was finally over when I found out she'd been shagging a copper.

That was bad enough but she couldn't have shagged just any old copper. She couldn't have shagged a murder detective or somebody in the Serious Crime Squad - somebody I could have at least had the solace that she'd screwed somebody more glamorous or interesting than me. No, she couldn't even leave me that shred of self-respect.

She shagged a Traffic Copper. A jumped up bloody traffic warden! The shame! I couldn't hold my head up high in the village for minutes when I found out.

And then I went out with my mates, had a laugh about it, and got
(, Thu 21 Jul 2005, 10:49, Reply)
Madness
I knew it was over when I uttered the immortal words:

"Come on you bastards, I'll have you all!"

It was the last serious kicking I got.

But to start the tale from the beginning. I was working for an R&D company in a sleepy market town in Northumberland doing research into Autonomous Mobile Robots. Interesting work. As I was a new face in town I was rapidly shagging my way through the local rocker and hippy-chicks (they’d all shagged each others boyfriends or had relationships with each other -it was a very incestuous social scene) and this one night I was out with a nice lass called Liz. Mad as a box of frogs but a good lass just the same. Anyway, we were in one of local pubs when a group of lads came in and sat at the bar and started drinking. Well these weren't the nicest blokes in the world and they started to take the piss out of the locals and I started to quietly boil. The final straw was when they started making evil comments about a disabled girl who worked in the kitchens. Liz, seeing that I was furious and wanting to avoid a scene, told me

"Come on, let’s go."

So I necked my drink and left with Liz. As I got to the door I heard this group yell something at me so I just put two fingers up at them without turning round and carried on walking. I'd gotten probably 15 metres across the cobbles when I heard them yelling at me. They'd all come boiling to the door of the pub and were yelling and shouting obscenities. Well that’s when I made the fatal mistake of turning and facing them and shouting:

"Come on you bastards I'll have you all."

They played football with me. I didn't even get one decent punch in before I was down and they were kicking 7 bells out of me. This went on for a while and I was getting a bit bored when they stopped kicking me and started to walk away. I struggled to my feet and through smashed lips yelled:

"Is that the best you can do? I've been hit harder by girls!"

Oh dear. I really ought to learn when to keep my big mouth shut. Still, I bet they were in pain for ages what with the bruised knuckles and sore feet. And I could have sworn one of them put his back out when he was stamping on my head.

Luckily I was
(, Wed 27 Jul 2005, 2:10, Reply)
When those ...
Pesky kids and their dog turned up at my haunted amusement park.
(, Fri 22 Jul 2005, 0:34, Reply)
...was when, after 5 agonising hours in an office
drinking free coffee, I really needed a piss and couldnt find the bathroom. So I closed the door to the executive suite, unzipped, and filled up a 1 litre bottle of Evian that I had emptied onto the plastic plant.

Turn around to see the MD with a group of sharp-suited clients clustered around the door with their mouths hanging open. And me with my cock squeezed into a bottle of "naturally filtered water."

Oh, the joys of working freelance
(, Thu 21 Jul 2005, 12:30, Reply)
I knew it was over...
when someone asked me what the opposite of "under" was.



and for some reason I`m about to click 'post this message' now...
(, Fri 22 Jul 2005, 15:08, Reply)
On way back from france
on the ferry, after a really lovely holiday, I saw the white cliffs and i knew it was Dover.










What?
(, Fri 22 Jul 2005, 12:12, Reply)
lets just say.....
that when she catches an EXTREMELY drunk yours truly looking through the keyhole of her sisters bedroom, at her sister getting undressed, whilst interfereing with himself, that your 2 year relationship is well and truly over
(, Thu 21 Jul 2005, 15:00, Reply)
Doomed employment
I knew the job was over when I was invited by post to a 'fact finding interview about my performance over the last six months'. I asked another manager for reassurance "This is normal right? This happens at the end of everyone's first six months right?"

He took the letter off me, glanced at it briefly then said "Um, no that's what we do when we want to sack people. Bye".

I knew another job (sorry, I mean bout of soul-less IT procurement drudgery) was over when I stopped responding to work emails, invoices, phone calls etc and started referring out loud to my dustbin as my "special cupboard" and the shredder as my "chamber of secrets". If you shred or bin all your work, you don't have to do anything right?

Therefore when managers came over to ask me where the invoices for their PC's, servers etc were, I could honestly say "Well, I don't seem to have them on my desk". It wasn't my fault, the three days training I had for the job was from a gibbering loon who told me nothing about the role, instead he said "I like buses" for three days.
(, Thu 21 Jul 2005, 11:47, Reply)
Over
I knew it was over when the R dropped off my cars name badge
(, Fri 22 Jul 2005, 13:23, Reply)
I knew it was over..
..when she said to her husband, "Steve, I think there's someone taking photos through the window."
(, Thu 21 Jul 2005, 17:00, Reply)
Hmm... When did I realise it was over?
Was it when she caused a massive scene for no reason, at a party, in front of all of my friends, for the tenth time? Nope.

When she caused a massive scene for no reason at my friend's wedding? Erm, nope.

When she had a huge row with my mother, for absolutely no reason at all, and then refused to see or speak to any member of my family again, because they were all "against her"? Umm, nope.

When I was chatting to some friends, one of whom happened to be female, and she accused me of having an affair? ...Nope.

When she got really upset because she found out that some of my colleagues were actually female, and insisted that I "don't work with them"? Erm, no, still nope.

When she accused me of spending hours on my computer having a long-distance affair, even though she knew full well I DIDN'T HAVE AN INTERNET CONNECTION? Umm, err.... Nope.

When she spent an entire journey across London screaming at the top of her lungs that I was gay (I'm not, just in case you were wondering) then continued in the same vein back at our flat, then accused me of hitting her, called the police, put the phone down and when they rang back told them she'd "dialled a wrong number" - all in front of my best friend? Yes? You would think so... but still nope.

When I realised I was spending every evening sitting in the local woods with a sharp knife rather than going home to her? Nope, just going through a bad patch

It was only when my friends told me categorically they didn't want to ever be in the same room as her that I finally decided to pull the plug. What can I say, I'm stubborn.

Dumb bitch got engaged three months after I finally ditched her. I pity the poor guy.

Obligatory length/girth wisecrack
(, Thu 21 Jul 2005, 16:15, Reply)
In the evening
I sat and wept,
For Simon,
The cat, was cleft

In two
By you
And your vicious penchant for thowing knives.

I knew it was over
When your body went limp
And your head stopped struggling
In the toilet bowl.
(, Thu 21 Jul 2005, 16:07, Reply)
Nails in the coffin
Each one of these events was a nail in the coffin of our doomed relationship (which ended 3 weeks ago)

When he sweetly told me he was dealing with the ironing pile and then proceeded to iron all of his own clothes and none of mine.

When he cycled past me in a torrential rainstorm and just shouted and waved instead of stopping and giving me a backie, or at least his jacket.

When he told me he had booked a romantic weekend away in Dublin as a Valentine’s surprise (though it was 2 weeks after Valentine’s day) and it turned out that – “coincidentally” – England were playing Ireland (rugby) that weekend – “We might as well go along to the match while we’re here, eh love”.

When he casually revealed to me that he had been told in the past that he is probably unable to father children due to a physiological problem (veiny balls). 2 years after we had met.

When he switched all the lights out when my friend was round visiting me “because it’s past 10 o’clock and it’s time for bed”.

When he locked me out for the same reason.

When he asked me if I’d be upset if my newborn niece died of cot death before I got to see her. He really did actually say that. As a “joke”. That’s alright then eh?

When he refused to have my name added to his next to the doorbell even 6 months after I had moved in with him “because to be fair it’s my flat, and besides I’ve never had the pleasure of pulling birds and bringing them back here because I’ve been with you the whole time I’ve lived here”.

When he refused to go to my grandfather’s funeral “because I’ve only met him once”.

But the final agonising moment when I finally realised that this man is a tosser, was when we were on holiday recently and I nearly slipped as we were walking along by the pool. My instinct was to reach out to grab his arm for support. His instinct was to pull his arm away in case I pulled him down with me.

I could go on for days… wow this has been great, I feel cleansed!!
(, Thu 21 Jul 2005, 12:20, Reply)
I knew my chances of passing my first job interview were over when...
I was discussing the over-reliance on technology to solve problems without standing back and looking at the holistic picture.
I said, that it's easily possible to build a system so complex that no one undestands and becomes a burden rather than a productivity tool, and that proper training and a phased rollout of a new system with a trial first audience should be perfomed, or else people maybe scared of the new box...like that film demon seed.

At this point they seemed quite impressed, but then one of the interviewers asked "what is demon seed".

I said it's a film with Julie Christie with robert vaughn voicing an advanced intelligent computer.
He replied and why would people be scared of that? Tell us a bit about the film.

and then i felt oblidged to explain the plot about how the system realised it was abouts to be swiched off and thus end it's "life". So it transfers itself into Julie Christie's house, Tortures her with the robotic house hold appliances until she submits and then impregnates her to create some sort of hideous robot/human hybrid.

The interview panel stared at me with open mouths. And that's when i knew it was over.

The rejection letter simply stated "we regret that you are not the type we were looking for."
(, Thu 28 Jul 2005, 1:17, Reply)
Monkey Monkey Monkey
This is a long one for a first post, but bare with me. You'll love it/be faintly disgusted.

I was recently on a school orchestra trip to Paris, and sleeping in a room with some good buddies. There was a tv in our room, so one of the first things we did was check out some french broadcasting, alas finding nothing of interest.

However, at dinner the same evening, some of the younger kids with us told us it would be worth our while to check out channel 22, further than our earlier explorations, as it would be worth our while, nudge nudge wink wink say no more.

Our expectations were low, having received this advice from boys who were only barely 13 and therefore easily impressed, but we did as they said and were, quite frankly, astonished. It was 8 o'clock in the evening and there, for the entire world to see, was a fully naked woman playing with herself. Only in France, we thought, and shook our teenage heads in admiration.

Later that night, we returned to the now infamous channel 22, expecting that later things would become more hardcore. God, how right we were.

We witnessed with growing horror/grim fascination/disgusted amusement, an old man, 55+, with thick body hair in more places than you knew existed (seriously, even the backs of his upper arms had a thick covering), indulging in monkey style full frontal bum sex with a girl who looked barely out of her teens. As if that wasn't bad enough, he then transferred his laughably small love muscle straight to the girls mouth, saying in a thick german accent: "you want to taste it again, huh?" this went on for a depressing amount of time, featuring spanking and, at one point, monkey-man seemed to have some sort of fit, until one of us had the presence of mind to turn it off, just as he told her: "move your poopoo to the right, you enjoy it more".

Anyway, to the point. Watching that extract, that's when I knew my desire to see porn ever again was over (or, at least, severely postponed).

Sorry about that, I just had to get it off my chest
(, Fri 22 Jul 2005, 23:23, Reply)
It was over fucking big time.
Imagine my revulsion and horror, when, during pre-coital oral on my then girlfriend, (a gentleman should you know),I became increasingly aware of an unusual, yet strangely familiar odour, not to mention taste. At the point of her orgasm, I was dumbfounded to witness a gobbet of man-batter emerging, no oozing, from the holiest of holies. More dumbfounded still when I realised we hadn't had sex for a fortnight because I'd been working away. Just then, a penny the size of a fucking man-hole cover dropped. Thats when it was over, funnily enough.
(, Fri 22 Jul 2005, 23:00, Reply)
Keeping it in the family

I knew it was over when my now ex GF caught her mum and a man that was not her farther shagging like Alsatians in the kitchen of the family home, any body want to guess who the mystery man was?

PS the mum was better anyway
(, Fri 22 Jul 2005, 13:01, Reply)
... when she turned up at the pub slightly rosy-cheeked
and said "sorry I'm late ... I just fucked my ex-boyfriend"
(, Thu 21 Jul 2005, 11:59, Reply)
Women, eh?
I knew it was all over, when she came home early from work one day, and caught me urinating into her bent over father's anus, with the cat perched on top of my head.

She didn't even hang around for me to explain.
(, Wed 27 Jul 2005, 14:57, Reply)
Behind the back belming
if you feel compelled to do this in any relationship, it's over.
Trust me.
(, Sun 24 Jul 2005, 22:45, Reply)
I knew it was over when...
When I was about 16, I had a girlfriend who was your stereotypical daughter-of-the-vicar, shy, country girl type. We were both virgins; I was incredibly horny (even by teenage boy standards) and she... wasn't.

She rang me up one day telling me that her parents were out and that I should come round later so we could have "fun". Imagining the delights that lay ahead of me, I quickly agreed in the squeaky way only a nervous, horny teenager can and shat myself with excitement for the few hours till then.

I came over to her quaint little house that evening (no pun intended) wearing disgusting aftershave, and with a multipack of condoms, whipped cream and a great deal of lube, assuming that my prudish girlfriend had suddenly become some sort of sex fiend.

After a bit of snogging on the couch, she said she was off "to get the videos", at which point I practically had a heart attack. As she went off to get what I assumed would be Anal Adventures or somesuch, I took the liberty of undressing myself fully, and getting my soldier prepared to march into battle.

Needless to say, when she came back into the room with chick flicks for a night of conversation, finding my naked and lubricated self on her living room couch came as quite a surprise. It didn't last much longer, and she wouldn't even let me stay long enough to finish myself off. Shame really...
(, Thu 21 Jul 2005, 22:55, Reply)

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