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This is a question Misunderstood

My other half rang a courier today to get a disc sent over to a client. The courier company asked what it was she was sending. "A computer disc", she said.

Half an hour later, 3 blokes in a van turned up. They looked a little disappointed to be handed a floppy disc: they were all prepared to shift a computer desk across London.

Have you been utterly misunderstood recently?

(, Thu 6 Oct 2005, 23:06)
Pages: Latest, 12, 11, 10, 9, 8, ... 1

This question is now closed.

I apologise and assure you I will no longer submit long, nonsensical answers
In the light of last week's QOTW, in which several b3tans took the opportunity to point out that my previous answers have been pretentious and, moreover, epic in length, I have decided to take a step back and look at myself and, more importantly, my written output on this board.

The term 'epic' has been used throughout the history of the arts as an adjective to describe a work of great creative scope, and has even become a noun used to label such works. The great War & Peace is often described as an epic literary work, and this description has since extended into cinema. Indeed, Richard Attenborough's Gandhi and David Lean's Lawrence of Arabia are hailed as historical epics. Yet when the term 'epic' was used to describe my writing, it was meant in a derogatory fashion, as though 'epic' was to be translated as "a rambling, over-long scrawl of worthless, uninteresting nonsense."

Of course, there have been others who have posted messages in praise of my efforts. If I was an arrogant, self-centred person I could use this praise as an excuse to continue in the same fashion as before. I could state, like some kind of acid-fried, semen-milked, fading rock star, that as long as my output makes at least one person happy then it is worthwhile. However, this approach to life is not in my character. Therefore I have decided to reduce the length of my answers. Hopefully the old adage "quality and not quantity" will remain at the forefront of my mind when I am composing future responses.

When I immerse my twitching consciousness in the erotic, animalistic act of writing, I tend to become a kind of sex-crazed Gummi Bear, flailing wildly at the keyboard, beating at the letters randomly with my purple fists in the vain hope that what appears on the screen will resemble some kind of legible prose (or, in a couple of cases, poetry). I then take the raw product of my emotional outpouring and construct from it various sentences. I then arrange these sentences into meaningful paragraphs. When these paragraphs are arranged in an order that I think is appropriate, I read over the piece and insert random adjectives and even entire descriptive sentences to flesh it out. This process is akin to taking your child, whom you love and cherish dearly, and holding him aloft with your sinewy arms for all the world to see, and bellowing at the top of your lungs to any poor soul within earshot, "Behold! Witness ye my progeny! Look upon him as the pride of my soul and the joy of my heart; as the fruit of my carnal labours and the throbbing product of a sweet yet violent union; but mostly as a reflection of myself!"

This, however, is no excuse. From now on I shall no longer write such expansive and nonsensical musings. I shall no longer waste the time of myself nor my fellow b3tans, whom I hold in the highest esteem and would do anything for. Indeed, were it possible I should very much like to gather all those who dwell here amidst the electronic ether and place them inside some kind of giant abandoned fish warehouse-cum-steam roller, blazing an unstoppable path to eternal glory and happiness. I would lovingly caress them one by one up and down their silky spines with my tender, feathery tongue. I would tweak Legless's proud chin delicately between thumb and forefinger, while gently singing a sweet lullaby to BadGirlActsGood through my nose. Despite his obvious bowel problems, I would treat JinDod with the utmost respect, dropping to one knee to offer him an ankle massage with my firm, meaty forehead. I would then offer shoe_pastry my veiny hand so that we may dance a merry waltz, before rousing calgacus and Mad McMad from their unsettled slumber to assure them that everything will be OK. It is just a vision I have. I am but a man; I am permitted to dream. To hope. To cry.

And so, on to my short, succinct answer to this week's QOTW:

I went into a cafe once and asked for a hot chocolate. The lady behind the counter was of Eastern European origin and she obviously completely misunderstood my request: she brought me a cheese and ham toastie. The whole fiasco caused me to smile.
(, Fri 7 Oct 2005, 12:54, Reply)
mythunderstood?
Venue: Centreparks sub tropical swimming paradise communal toilets and changing rooms.
Incident: Sister in law, with 4 year old needing a wee wee, enters a cubicle to discover a large - bear sized- pooh laying across the top of the toilet seat cover. Sister in law exits hastily and enters new cubicle (free of faeces) and 4 yr old empties bladder. Upon exiting the new cubicle Sister inlaw notices another mother and child quickly enter and exit the cubicle containing the faecal atrocity. In a misguided attempt at paternal comraderie Sister in law taps on shoulder and remarks to the newly appalled mother "I did that!" - meaning (of course) that she had just exited the chamber of pooh horror herself. The woman's look of disgust and choice of new names for the sister in law showed that she truly misunderstood that sentiment.
Judgement: It's still about misunderstanding but with the added benefit of being about pooh too.
(, Fri 7 Oct 2005, 17:58, Reply)
Living in Sweden + standard Brit-Phraseology
I've had a good few Swedish Girlfriends now, but the most mentally trying one was Susanne: she had a chip on her shoulder about being older than me, was an ex-model (with temprement to match), and quite fankly was as daft as a box of frogs.

Most things I said seemed to confuse her (it wasn't hard) so I must have missed the particularly blank looks that must have accompanied one of my more common phrases.

Middle of a party and I make a quiet comment to susanne towards the end of the evening..

The result, Susanne, a spectacularly tall woman who never failed to look stunning, takes one step away from me, turns to face, and ups the volume to "Public Announcment with Anger"

"Will you STOP asking me to do that... It's DISGUSTNIG, and I'll NEVER do it, I can't UNDERSTAND Why you keep ASKING!!"
With tears of rage in her eyes she then turned on her heel, and strode out of the room, thus leaving me the object of much scornfull attention.

At which point it seemed Prudent to repeat myself...

"Well, Bugger me!!!"
(, Fri 7 Oct 2005, 8:43, Reply)
Misundestanding of identity
I originally posted this on what the qotw should be - but I may as well put it here since it's valid:

I used to work at the Odeon Cinema in Chester whilst a student. For those not familiar with 'The Walled City' it a fairly tall building with a tower over-looking the town hall and cathedral.

Near the top of this tower section is one of the two projection rooms and has a door leading off to the roof where many a projectionist has a quick cigarrette whilst admiring the view.

One day the projectionist on duty did just that, but it was'nt any ordinary day - it was the day that the daughter of the Duke of Westminster, Lady Tamara Grosvenor married Prince Charles' godson at Chester Cathedral in November 2004. So whilst having a quick fag, he though he'd see if he could spot the Queen and Prince Philip (who attended) as the procession came out.

Unfortunately for him, several armed police thought he was a sniper.

They stormed the cinema, and ran up the stairs leading to the roof, past the managers office, who then joined in the chase - mainly to figure out what the hell was going on. The member of staff who let them in, leading the way shouting "come on, let's get him, you slow bastards!"(thinking the whole thing was hilarious)

When they all reached the top - at gunpoint they demanded that the projectionist tell them what the hell he was doing on the roof (they did'nt believe his story of having a fag) When the manager arrived on the scene, the police asked him to verify that the projectionist worked for him. He said "No, i've never seen him before in my life" The look of sheer panick on the projectionist was a picture. Just as they are about to hand cuff the poor bloke, the manager says (now almost in hysterics) - "No, I have to come clean, he does work here"

Apparently the Police took A LOT of convincing before they would let him go.

I called him Lee Harvey Oswald for weeks after that
(, Sat 8 Oct 2005, 10:55, Reply)
In a nightclub once,
I approached a rather stunning girl and asked her for a blow job.
Instead I got the shit kicked out of me by her boyfriend.

I am absolutley certain I made myself clear with my initial request; I definitley asked her for 'a blow job' and not 'please can you ask your boyfriend to stamp on my face.'


The mind boggles, it really does.
(, Fri 7 Oct 2005, 10:55, Reply)
The greatest plane journey in the world....
Maybe that should be most embarrassing. Pull up a chair, it's a long one I'm afraid.

The initial torment was making the mistake of being a fifteen year old boy. It plays havoc on the hormones and all manner of strange things can happen. As a random example, say, the vibration of a plane giving you the most persistent erection known to man. Now this is of course hideable unless three key things come into conjunction.
1. You're flight is nine hours long, your mother told you to wear something comfortable and you chose very thin track suit bottoms.
2. You checked in very early and are sitting right at the front of the plane. That means in front of about 200 other passengers.
3. Your cousin insists, what with you being tall, that you put her bag in the overhead compartment RIGHT NOW.
The result of this is me, not only standing but actually stretching, accentuating even further the blantant erection tenting out the front of my track suit bottoms to an alarming proportion in front of 200 total strangers.

Get in!

Can this flight get worse? Of course it can, I haven't got to the misunderstanding yet.

So a couple of hours later and my ears are popping like a bugger causing me no end of pain and annoyance. It's at this time a stewardess approaches me and, thrusting a food tray in my direction, says, what I'm pretty sure, is "Muhmeemuumoo?" At this point I'm starving so nod enthusiastically giving no thought to the fact that no one around me is being served.

I look down at the tray to see a mound of salad which leaves me slightly disappointed. No where near as disappointed, however, as the realisation that the same stewardess is now talking to an angry man sitting just across the aisle from me who is loudly remonstrating with her. Apparently he's a vegetarian and the stewardess is very sorry but they appear to be one vegetarian meal short on this flight. A rather large penny drops in my head.

I of course just turn bright red and shit myself at the thought of two public humiliations in one day when I point out my mistake to the stewardess. My loving brother has twigged as to what's going on and is trying not to laugh out loud in the seat beside me. The bloke across from me is now very angry indeed. Suddenly I am blessed by the ghost of cool (a very rare occurance in my life).

I calmly tapped the stewardess on the shoulder and told her I'd overheard their arguement and said I was only a vegetarian for health reasons, not any kind of beliefs, so I'd be happy to give up my meal for this man and eat the regular stuff. She looked at me with a faceful of such thankfulness I thought my guilt would make me die.

She gave the man my meal and I relaxed in the glow of kudos. Shortly she returned and gave me not only my normal food but a little model of a plane by way of a thank you. My guilt hit fever pitch and then was quickly followed by an altogether more terrifying thought. Surely there would be a list of passengers on the plane who had ordered a vegetarian meal and surely I wouldn't be one of them.

I spent the next five hours sweating with the guilt and worry of being found out. When we landed I barged people out of the way to get off the plane first and away from the thankful smile of the stewardess. As a touch of karma, being that I was off the plane about five minutes before my brother he said I missed them talking about me. To this day I've never been sure but he must have made this bit up, he just must have done.

As he walked out of the door he swears one of the other stewards asked the captain for the little model plane for a friend, the captain explained they'd already given it away to "that veggie kid with the hard on who gave up his meal".
(, Sat 8 Oct 2005, 15:02, Reply)
Weirdest wrong number ever
I got a call that was so entirely random. it went something like this:

phone] *ring*
me] *picks up phone* Hello?
her] Hey! is that Carrie?
me] Uh, yes it is...
her] Hey! it's Tracey! Hi! How are ya?
me] Weh?
her] Great! Listen, how much do you reckon we'd need to start a yoga group?
me] Wha?
her] It'll be great! I'll do a class on Tuesdays and you can do one on Thursdays!
me] Uhhh... Wait - who do you want to talk to?
her] Is that Carrie?
me] Yeah, it is - but i think you've got the wrong number...
her] This is Carrie, yeah?
me] Yes, my name is Carrie, but i think you've rung the wrong number.
her] Huh?
me] my name is Carrie, but I don't think you want to talk to me. You have the wrong number. You want a different Carrie.
her] oh, I thought you were Carrie. Can I speak to Carrie please?
me] no, I am Carrie but you have the wrong number, Carrie's not here.
her] oh. When will she be back?
me] she won't be back, you have the wrong number.
her] but this is Carrie's number, yeah?
me] no, it's MY number! you have the wrong number!
**INSERT LONG RAMBLED DIALOGUE CONSISTING OF ME TRYING TO GET THROUGH TO HER THAT I'M NOT THE PERSON SHE WANTS TO TALK TO** Finally:
her] Ohhhhh! Oh I'm sorry! i must have the wrong number!
me] That's okay, no problem.
her] Do you have Carrie's number?
me] Uhhhh... No....
her] Oh. *pause* Do you know how I can get hold of her?
me] Uh... no... because she's YOUR friend.
her] Oh. *pause* Is Dale there?
me] No. *puts phone down*
(, Sun 9 Oct 2005, 14:46, Reply)
It was all Blackadder's fault. Honest!
At around the age of ten (dear god I hope I wasn't any older) I was just getting into watching Blackadder Goes Forth, occasionally even laughing in the right places, and trying to look damn sophisticated in front of my parents. In one episode he uses the phrase 'heads down for the big bosh gang bang' which, being a young and innocent boy, I misunderstood the meaning of just a tad.

So at the next gigantic family get together I wandered up to my Granny and, with her being slightly deaf, shouted towards her "ARE YOU ENJOYING THE GANG BANG?"

I thought it just meant a big party. Honest. I quickly figured otherwise, however, as the entire room suddenly went silent. Thankfully it turned out I wasn't the only innocent one in the family. My Granny just gave me a huge smile and shouted back "YES DEAR."

About five years later my parents decided to explain my faux pas. I remember hoping to god my Granny was as innocent as me and not just a really dirty bitch.
(, Fri 7 Oct 2005, 9:45, Reply)
Yet another phone one...
Back in the day me and my mate Dave had a running gag where we'd answer the phone as a made-up business with a rhyming tagline. I think it originated from an episode of the Simpsons.

So time and time again he'd ring me or I'd ring him to be greeted with something along the lines of:

"Archibald's Taxidermy - they snuff it, we stuff it"

or

"Necrophilia Unlimited - you slay it, we lay it"

It kept us amused but it's difficult to keep coming up with new ones and, being the childish cock-monkeys we were they just kept getting more and more filthy.

You can already see where this one is going can't you.....?

Anyway inspiration hit me one day and I wrote one down ready for the next time Dave phoned. Lo and behold a few days later my phone rings and the display flashes "Dave:home".

In my best "I run a business" voice I answer it thus:

"Slim Jim's Quim Trim - you grow it, we mow it" and start giggling to myself.

I sensed something was wrong when there was no laughter from the other end and things got rather worse when a very female and not-at-all-Dave voice asked "Mark? Is that you? I'm looking for Dave".

Yup. I'd just asked my best mate's mum if she wanted her quim trimmed.
(, Mon 10 Oct 2005, 17:21, Reply)
Pilot error, very expensive
"Full power, 65kts, V1, engine T's and P's steady" the co-pilot tells me, "75kts, V2, T's and P's look good" and now I'm waiting for the '90 kts, rotate' call, but glancing over at him, he looks sad and not overly alert.
"Cheer up" I tell him. He automatically reaches over and pulls the undercarriage leaver up, followed by about 15 seconds of rapid and heart renching desceleration, grinding metal, sparks and ear splitting noise. Air accident investigation's conclusion. "Cheers up" and "Gear up" sound similar. No Shit.
(, Sat 8 Oct 2005, 15:37, Reply)
alcohol linguistics in China
I lived in Beijing for 3 years.

Early on I joined a local cycling cluband on my first outing we cycled about 60K in the countryside around the Ming Tombs. It was beautiful but hot as hell and the final stretch was a 10k shallow but constant uphill grade. Suffice to say I was in need of beer related recuscitation at the end.

I went in to the small store across the road from the finish point and, in my best novice Mandarin, asked for a bottle of Pe Jiu (chinese for beer, literally - flower alcohol, which is frankly a girly name for the great ales). The gent behind the counter passed me a green half-litre bottle of a brand I didn't recognise. It wasn't cold, but it was about 15p and the store keeper didn't appear to have a fridge (or electricity come to that) so I decided not to press the point. Some gesticulation based communication ensued and he opened it for me (I did not yet know the Mandarin word for "open", only having learned "thank you", "ashtray" and "beer" so far). Once opened I took a hearty pull from the bottle, expecting to down the lot and demand another bottle, hence impressing the storekeep and cementing the longnoses' reputation amongst the locals of these parts. As this liquid hit the back of my throat it became clear that he had misheard me. For a second I thought I had just swallowed bleach or white spirit, but realisation quickly dawned that I had in my hands a bottle of the famous local grog "bai-jiu" (literally - white alcohol), a whisky strength rice liquor drunk in vast quantities all across the Middle Kingdom. In my twisted foreign assault on the storekeep's language, I had clearly mispronounced pe-jiu ("pee geo") as bai-jiu ("bye geo").

In an attempt to avoid losing face (terribly important amongst the local johnnies) in front of the storekeep and his now gaping family, I continued my pull on the bottle and whiped my lips with my coat sleeve giving all impressions of having quenched my thirst. I thanked the storekeep and left with my image intact, but my throat burning and my stride a little askew.

My proudest moment in China was, 3 years later, getting trousered with a bunch of work colleagues and telling this story ... in Chinese.
(, Fri 7 Oct 2005, 8:24, Reply)
Princess Di...
had just died and my gran phoned up my mom. Said she was pretty upset by the whole thing but couldnt understand why Pavarotti was chasing Di on a motorbike.
(, Mon 10 Oct 2005, 9:47, Reply)
hardware
I was in a hardware shop in the late 70s/early 80s, and wanted to buy some fork handles. What followed was a hilarious sequence of misunderstandings.
(, Sat 8 Oct 2005, 9:50, Reply)
I thought the loved me.....
My first day working in Switzerland, my first name is Morgan. I walked into my office building and next thing everyone is saying 'Guten Morgen' or just 'Morgen' with a slight nod of the head.
I thought to myself, that is so cool. Someone must have sent an email around explaining that I was a new guy who'd joined who was foreign and didn't speak any Swiss German. Please make him feel welcome etc.
Started to get suspicious when this was still happening on my 3rd morning. Then someone explained it meant 'Good Morning' or just 'morning'.
Looks like my initial impression that the Swiss were a right stand offish bunch of c*nts was spot on after all!
PS: TIP: If you're at a meeting in Switzerland with Swiss people and a Swiss person is late arriving and someone asks ' I wonder what's keeping him?'. Do not answer 'He's probably polishing the jewish gold'. In my experience, a genuine tumbleweed moment.
(, Fri 7 Oct 2005, 11:17, Reply)
Oh the fun to be had in shops!
Working in a shop, we get the ocassional lad in looking for condoms. One time a guy came in and, looking embarressed mumbled that he wanted some condoms. I of course misheard this as bonbons. I went over to the sweets and shouted over " do you want lemon or strawberry ones?" He just left.

Dont know what he was embaressed about, he's getting more than me.
(, Fri 7 Oct 2005, 2:15, Reply)
On a school trip to London
I'd managed to claim the back seat of the minibus with my friends.

As we approached the Science Museum, my teacher spotted a reasonably convenient parking space. However, unfamiliar as he was with driving a minibus, he struggled to cope with the size of the vehicle, the reduced visbility and the weight of the steering at low speeds.

After a couple of aborted attempts to maneuver into the space I can only assume he was starting to lose patience and had decided to try a variation of the courier driver's trick for quick parallel parking.

Now the courier's trick is to drive forward into a space at a sharp angle and when the nearside front wheel has gone up onto the pavement turn the steering wheel quickly so that the vehicle straightens out into the space, with the wheel dropping back onto the street.

My teacher decided to try this technique, but instead chose to reverse into the space. As this would result in one of the rear wheels going up onto the pavement and since rear visiblity was so restricted he called out for assistance:
"Someone look out the back and tell me if there's anything in the way."

I dutifully looked out of the rear window and responded:
"There's a couple of meters behind us."

I can only guess that my teacher was glowing with pride that one of his pupils had so readily embraced metrification as he reversed and, as the rear wheel mounted the pavement, came to an abrupt halt as the back of the bus struck the two parking meters that I had been trying to warn him about.

Much hilarity ensued over his misunderstanding of the difference between two metres and two meters!
(, Sun 9 Oct 2005, 10:30, Reply)
well I'd never bloody heard of them before
Aged about eighteen I went round the flat of this guy I worked with who I'd started to get quite matey with. It was around Easter time, and he had a couple of hot cross buns his devout old mum had given him, which he duly shared out not long after I arrived.

An hour or so later he mentioned another easter-based delicacy that I was hitherto unaware of, something to do with Ash Wednesday. Not being the religious type myself, and him being a lapsed catholic, I made nothing of my ignorance but said ooh, yes please, that sounds nice.

He proudly got out this plate of cakes, told me he'd baked them himself, and made quite a big deal about eating one and giving one to me. Few minutes later he stands up to go to the toilet, but before leaving the room he grins at me, points at the cakes and says "now don't you go eating all of them".

I got the joke.
I knew what he meant.

I grinned back, said "okaaay" in the least sincere manner possible, and as soon as he disappeared I scoffed the whole fucking lot as fast as I possibly could, giggling my little arse off.

He came back in the room, looked at the empty plate, looked at me, and screamed "FUUUCK! WHAT THE FUCK HAVE YOU DONE?"

"Ash Cakes", no.

Then I started to feel a little bit funny.
(, Fri 7 Oct 2005, 15:52, Reply)
Birthing Tourettes
During my 3rd hour of final stage labour while trying to give birth to my 10lb son, my patience ran out and I turned my frustration on my husband by shouting "Get the FUCK out!".

He to this day thinks that I was yelling at our yet-to-be-born baby, and stubbornly stayed in the room, much to my further annoyance.

As I repeated myself several times, getting louder and louder, he got all embarrassed at my 'potty mouth' and tried to calm me down by patting my hand. I almost punched him.
(, Tue 11 Oct 2005, 16:54, Reply)
My boy, that jolly well is NOT Guinness.
My family and my best mates family had just been seated in a famous hight street fish restaurant. Now, as the banter flowed the waitress of Eastern European origin waddled up to our table to ask for our drinks order.

We decided that at the same time we'd order some snack type things to tide us over. We go round the table ordering and finally get to my best mates father. He asks for a Guinness, as you do, and also he'd like some shallots in vinegar. Fair enough say we all, the waitress repeats his order looking mighty confused but we presume thats cause she cannot speak a word of English except for whats on the menu.

After much time our drinks arrive.

As BM's father takes a much anticipated sip from his pint he immediately sprays it over the whole table, which is nice. It is then that we notice that there are ACTUAL white balls floating in his 'pint'.

The stupid cow had topped up the pint with ACTUAL vinegar and shallots.

The worst thing was that the barman was English and had not questioned the order at all.

Now if that's not a misunderstanding then I don't what is.

(This is 100% true. Fact)
(, Tue 11 Oct 2005, 16:52, Reply)
Memory jogged by painreliever's story...
For a short, unhappy time, I worked for Abbey (then National), just as they were taking over N&P. So I started at an N&P branch, where they had open counters.

A very angry man came in, bypassed the queue of people and marched up to my counter. He shouted, "Do you mind f*ing telling me why my f*ing card doesn't work in your f*ing machine?" At this point, he rudely flicked the card across the counter and it slid to a halt right in front of me. Whilst he continued to rant and rave, and everyone in the branch watched and waited, I look at the card and had one of those glorious moments of impending victory.

When he had finished swearing, I pushed the card back across to him with the tip of my pen and said sweetly (but very loudly), "Sir, this is your BT chargecard. Perhaps you'd like to try your cashcard instead." To his credit, he blushed and said, "I look like a bit of twat, don't I?" I just smiled.
(, Tue 11 Oct 2005, 11:37, Reply)
In the southern USA
On a road-trip through Arkansas, we stopped in a greasy spoon diner for a bite. I ordered a sandwich, and the waitress, in her southern drawl, said "Y'all want super salad with that?"

Not having been in Arkansas before, I wasn't sure what kind of local delicacy she was offering me. But she was cute, so I asked her flirtatiously, "What's so super about it?"

She gave me a withering look, and asked again: "Do y'all want super salad with that?"

I was slightly miffed, but still wasn't going to give up the game. I said "I'll try it, but only if you tell me what makes it super."

She gave me that special over-patient look that's reserved for retarded children, and asked me, with long pauses between words, "Do. you. want. soup. or. salad. with. that."

I didn't think it was THAT funny, but I've never heard the end of it from my mates.
(, Mon 10 Oct 2005, 6:06, Reply)
Red buttons.
I work with a little autistic darling who has a very unusual concept of how the world works.

After a swim at the beach, I showed him to the changerooms, and settled down beside a friendly, traditionally dressed Hindu grandmother to wait.

As my lad came out, I had a sudden 'Oh no' moment. You know the bindi married Hindu women often wear between their eyes? The round, circular one, that looks like a button?...

Oh yes. He raced up to her, stared at it intently, then pressed it. He was rather annoyed when nothing happened.
(, Sat 8 Oct 2005, 0:52, Reply)
what a day
mad story this...when i was alot younger, I met this girl, lovely she was a little bit underage but no-one minded, went to a party and then realised that her family were from a 'rival' estate and had got involved in a bit of a ruck awhile back, anyhoo I wasn't allowed to get involved with her and her dad said if he saw me well let's just say it's red and hot and poker shaped, anyway I though fruck this we'll get it on, woohoo, problem is her meathead chavtastic cousin and my best mate have an almightly barney and he pulls out a knife, my mate ends up in casualty...what a twat? pulling out a knife like that, i thinks I'm not having that so I shank him with me swiss army, his head hits the ground, shaking like an eppy he ends up in casualty and muggins is up for gbh...don't worry it's nearly over, my mate reckons I should lay well low or else i could get an asbo or something, so i go and visit my real dad,(who's a bit of a dealer) problem number 2 is well that bird is well fit and i want to see her again, so i ask my mate to tell my bird that i'm at my dads and she can come and visit, anyway i pop out to cash my giro and bird comes over and my dad gives her a hit of scag to smoothe her mind, she has a couple of beers and she's well out of it...COMA-TOSED!!!,the funny thing is I didn't know this see? anyway I get back, dad is out, and I think that the stupid bitch has o'd, anyway I can laugh now but I shat meself thought I'm up for GBH and now maybe murder so I did meself in, stupid I know but wtf? Anyway, little did I know that it weren't scag just a bit of skunk and bird wakes up and sees me covered in claret...silly cow takes my knife and does herself in as well...what a misunderstanding eh readers!!!
(, Fri 7 Oct 2005, 14:16, Reply)
recipe of life
Not me but my dear old mum, whilst wondering past somebodys desk at work she commented "I didnt know you were pregnant, is it a girl or a boy" while pointing at the desk, despite several baffled looks she wanders over to the pc to pick up the ultrasound scan picture, the jopyous picture of new life turns out to be a worn photocopy of a sausage casserole recipe.

To be fair she does wear contact lenses and glasses, but ffs a sauasage casserole recipe!
(, Fri 7 Oct 2005, 11:09, Reply)
student teaching
i was student teaching
and my students were all a bunch of 17-18 year olds and the teacher i was working with told me that i have to teach the students how stereotypes work.

so i started the lesson by asking the students what stereotypes were.
big mistake
next thing i know the kids are screaming out all racial things
and one girl says, "all white girls give head"
and before i had a chance to process what she said, i yelled, "that's true"
before i could explain myself
the whole classroom laughed at me (since i am a white girl) - it really was horrible.
(, Fri 7 Oct 2005, 0:57, Reply)
When I worked in a large nightclub in Blackpool
a guy came to the bar and asked if we sold pills. I said "yes, they are on offer - only £1."
He asked for 4 of them, so I got 4 bottles of Holsten Pills from the fridge. He laughed and gave me a fiver. Then he said "Not them sort of pills - the other sort of pills."
So I pointed him towards a big bloke in a suit in the corner. He left his bottles on the counter and walked over to the bloke in the suit. He spoke into his ear, then there was a bit of banter then BAM! the bloke in the suit threw him out of the fire door - head first. The guy in the suit was the head doorman. I re-capped the pills and put them on ice for the end of the night.
Job well done.

edit: Just remebered another one when working in the same club.

There had been a national deaf and dumb conference (sorry if that is not what it's called) in Blackpool, so there were lots of deaf people in the nighclub. A nice young lady came to the bar and said "Bat-watz-er". I politely said to her "sorry we don't sell Budweiser". Then again she said "Bat-watz-er". And I again told her we didn't sell burweiser. Then she said louder, "Bat-watz-er!", and I told her we didn't sell it. This went on a couple more times, getting louder each time. I got fed up of being polite, so I got a piece of paper from the back of the bar and a marker pen and wrote:

WE DON'T SELL BLOODY BUDWEISER!

she grabbed the pen off me, turned the paper over and wrote:

GOOD FOR YOU! BUT I WANT A BOTTLE OF WATER!

I felt this big
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(, Mon 10 Oct 2005, 11:38, Reply)
Hungry and stupid
The Polish words for "hungry" and "stupid" are similar if you're crap at the language like I was after just moving here. That is why, upon sitting down to eat with my fiancee's family, I said to her father (scary Polish ex-copper, who at the time was gripping his cutlery in anticipation of the impending feast):

"Are you stupid? I am, but I had a big breakfast so i'm probably not as stupid as you. You look very stupid."

:Ĵo
(, Sun 9 Oct 2005, 23:09, Reply)
Curious Love
Being a classic schoolground nerd, I have no courage. I was also infatuated with a pretty young creature called X. She was totally different to me, athletic, good conversationist (I am, but only around other nerds), good-looking... You get the picture. My friends knew - she did not. So they very kindly went and asked her out for me... without me asking.
However, the only time they had ever heard me mention her, I had only said her name.
So they asked the wrong girl. They did ask someone called X, but a different one. One who I was good friends with at the time, we were a perfect match. We both read the same things, liked the same music, played the same games (sadly not video games - my only qualm!). It had just never occurred to me to get past "just friends".
The next time I saw her, she wrapped her arms around me. We're still happy.(both 15)
(, Sun 9 Oct 2005, 20:20, Reply)
True story
Many years ago my younger brother (aged two at the time) decided it would be a good idea to swallow a screw whilst my dad was doing some DIY.

Much distress ensued not helped by him spitting up chunks of blood. Fast forward to local accident and emergency department where we are seen by very kind and very indian paediatric doctor who agrees that my brother should be admitted for observation. He then goes up to the paediatric ward to tell the nurses about the new admission who swallowed a screw.

Fast forward some more to a group of nurses coming down to a&e to see the 2 year old boy who has swallowed a squirrel! HAHA much mirth directed at the doctor with the Indian accent and disappointment from the nurses who expected some bushy tailed rat to be hanging out my bro's mouth.
(, Sun 9 Oct 2005, 12:28, Reply)
Thar she blows!!
About 7 years ago, me and my girlfriend came home drunk from a fancy dress party where we had been both dressed as pirates. For some reason my girlfriend decided to go on the treadmill in my room.

Halfway through her run, my girlfriend started shouting the classic pirate phrase "Pieces of eight! Pieces of eight!" but in my drunken stupor I thought she said "Increase it to eight!", so I duly did so.

Not expecting the sudden speed increase, my girlfriend was catapulted into the upstairs banister, knocking herself out. I then had to get my neighbour to drive us both to casualty in full pirate regalia.....

It was about a week before I could speak to her again...
(, Sun 9 Oct 2005, 0:26, Reply)

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