Many years ago I worked in a large office.
There was one of those moments where nobody was speaking, except for one girl who was explaining, in a loud, inner city Dublin accent; "so I said to Jimmy I'll let you fuck me up the arse if you let me fuck you up the arse first with a strap-on. That shut the cunt up."
( Dr Preference AjcuiVd289, Tue 30 Aug 2011, 16:03, 3 replies)

Overheard from a cubicle (probably a pea)
I was in the gents, and from an engaged cubicle heard a woman's voice say

"No Aaron"
"Not that way"
"That's shit"

Just a reminder: if you are going to be shit at overhearable sex be called Dave or something, for deniability,
(teebie jeebie, Tue 30 Aug 2011, 15:59, Reply)

Twaz
There was a boy who joined my school at the start of the term as we moved into Lower Sixth Form. As he had not been at our secondary school from years 8-11, along with the fact he was socially awkward (plus shy, a geek, wore glasses, had big teeth, loved Freddy Mercury and drama), meant he was an easy target for the bullies/’cool’ kids. For the first couple of weeks of term, he’d be at the receiving end of most of their ‘practical jokes’; and the other new members of class would join in, as if to distract from the fact that they were new as well.
Nathan was his name, but he was soon known by all as ‘Twaz’ (bizarrely because he once said ‘‘twas’ instead of ‘it was’) and then this was lengthened to ‘Twazim Akram’ once it was discovered that he liked cricket quite a bit.

It just so happened that Twaz was on my school bus, and we soon developed a bit of a friendship. I’d chat to him in the mornings on the way to school, and stop and talk to him if we crossed paths walking to lessons. On numerous occasions I’d go and chat to him during break and lunch times if I saw him standing alone, as he’d only made two friends at the school, who were of similar ilk to Twaz. It wasn’t out of pity either, I found him charming and interesting, and as Twaz’s confidence grew, it became a great spectacle for me watching him give witty ripostes to the lads that tried to mock him.
I’d just like to point out that I was by no means one of the ‘cool’ kids at school , and was in no way taking Twaz ‘under my wing’ so to speak; but I was fortunate enough to be able to flit between the different social groups that develop at school. It meant that I didn’t get the piss ripped out of me for stopping and chatting to Twaz, and the negative attention he received when he first joined the school soon died down.

Three months into term, Twaz came up to me during lunch break.

“It’s my birthday on Friday night and I wondered if you’d like to come round to mine? I’ve asked Dan and Dominic (his other two mates) as well. They’ll be a bit of food and some drink. My parents are away as well. You don’t have to if you don’t want to”

“Sure, why not?!” I replied. I had no other plans, and I liked the bloke, it was fine by me.

“Thanks”, replied Twaz, “I’ll let you know the details later on. Can you not let them lot know please? They’ll only take the piss out of me.”

I knew who he meant by ‘them lot’. “Course not”, I replied, and with that Twaz walked off.

That afternoon in Business Studies, Twaz came over to my desk. In hushed tones, he told me to get to his for about 7.30pm, and he told me his address. As he lived in the same town as me, I knew where he lived straight away. Then he told me that he was making 3 different curries for us to eat. Result! I fucking love curry!

“I’ll be there, mate”.

“BE WHERE? PARTY IS IT?”. Fuck. One of the twats in the class had heard most of the conversation and began to broadcast it to the rest of the room. He knew the time, the address; every detail, the nosey fucking bastard.

“I didn’t want you lot to know”, protested Twaz, downbeat. “It was meant to be a secret”.

“Awww, bless”. The teasing commenced.

The next two days were rife with rumours that loads of the sixth form were going to turn up to the ‘house party’. Friday came and I let Twaz know that I would still be coming to his, along with Dan and Dominic. All day, people kept winding Twaz up, saying things like ‘See you at half seven’ and ‘can’t wait for your party’. That evening I turned up at his, at he invited me in. Well fuck me; the food looked, and indeed tasted amazing, and there was a lot of beer and wine on offer – he’d pulled out all the stops. Conversation was pretty awkward as I didn’t know the other two that well, but I was glad I had turned up. I’d been there about 45 minutes, when the doorbell went. Twaz went to answer it, and I peered from the living room towards the front door.

FUCK.ME.

There, at the front door, stood about 40 people from the school. The tranquil, social gathering of 4 went to loud , chaotic house party and carnage ensued within minutes. The music was turned up, his parents alcohol cupboard was instantly raided, and despite Twaz and I trying to control the situation, there were far too many already drunk teenagers for us to be able to much to calm their behaviour. In the next hour or so, curry was chucked over the walls and carpets, someone pissed in the microwave, numerous people were wandering around in his mum’s clothes, the back window got cracked, cigarettes got put out on the carpet, a trifle got launched down the stairs – you get the idea; as much damage as possible, teenagers being utter arseholes. Twaz was in tears, and I felt sorry for him, and also guilty because it was our conversation that had been overheard. The destruction only stopped when the neighbour called the police to complain about the noise. I stayed behind to help clear up, but we were fighting a losing battle, and Twaz knew he’d have to tell his parents what had happened when they arrived home the next Sunday. I wished him well and left, wondering to myself how people can be such fucking idiots. I felt sad that not only Twaz’s house been ruined, but his birthday too.

I’ll sum up what happened in the aftermath of this:

- Twaz got a bollocking off his parents, and got grounded for a month.
- He invited me, Dominic and Dan around again 3 weeks later when his parents were away again, and whilst he was still grounded. I accepted. When I got to his house, he’d pulled all the carpets up, put Clingfilm over every single wall and locked anything of any value in the garden shed, just ‘in case someone found out about it again’, as he put it.
- The house party went on to be the making of Twaz. People thought he was a legend and no longer took the piss out of him. A couple of months after the event, he won the school ‘Stars in Their Eyes’ style talent show, with a rousing rendition of Radio Gaga.

Teenagers can be a fickle bunch.
(Monkey the Chicken Twitter: death_stairs, Tue 30 Aug 2011, 14:26, 5 replies)

What not to store in your office desk
Not something that I overheard, but it is certainly a case of I know their secret but they don't know I do. Or it may be a case of "they know I know their dirty grim secret".

I work for an IT training company as a trainer, and am based out of an office that I share with our head of resourcing, technical trainer and a sales manager. We used to work in an office by the NEC, but have since moved somewhere a lot nicer, even if it is still in Birmingham - but great for me as I can now walk to the office in 30 mins!!

This new office is a lot smaller since it is only me and San (head of resourcing) who are in the office frequently enough to warrent desks, but there are 3 desks, mine and San's are near the windows and the sales manager, Kim, has been allocated a desk in a corner by the door as she hardly ever comes in any more.
This is because her husband has left her after finding out she was having an affair. Sadly, me and San caught onto this MONTHS before he did, poor bloke. Aside from her talking to him on the phone with the same attitude I give dog shit on my shoe, she also seemed to spend a shocking ammount of time sat in our old office with the blinds drawn (she sat by the window facing down the office so we couldn't see her laptop screen) with a webcam set up facing her, wearing revealing tops and sucking on lolly pops like she was wishing it was something else.

It got right on our nerves as it meant spending all day in an office under crappy lights. But like I said, hubby found out and left her - good for him! Now she stays at home claiming to have no childcare in place, despite earning more than I could in a year, so when San and I decided we wanted better digs to work from, she couldn't complain - not that she didn't try.

After a couple of months "Operation Breakout" as we named it was a success and we got our new, clean, pun-surrounded office. San and I then had to move all our stuff into the new office. We told Kim to get her arse in and help move her shit, but surprisingly she didn't turn up. I wanted to leave her stuff behind and use the excuse that after she lost her keys to her desk in our old office (and decided one of us MUST have taken it)and having locked her spares IN HER FUCKING DESK, neither me or San wanted to touch her stuff lest it go missing.

San told me that it was not worth the earache and potential bolocking we'd get (Kim had a way of convincing High-Ups she was perfect and everyone else was shit - she likes to get people sacked, but that is for another QOTW). So we opened her desk draws to package her crap up to move.

We were not prepared for what was in there.

Underwear. Fucking panties and bras - expensive ones judging by the boxes, that they weren't in!! I mean FFS who brings and stores lacy underwear in their office desk!!?? I claimed on grounds of health and safety we shouldn't touch them, so we pulled out the draw and up-ended the lot into a bin bag, double bagged it and put it in a box. Which is now sat by her new desk.

She still hasn't come in, and part of me thinks it's because she knows we know her frilly secrets. I hope it is, the woman is a harpie and plays the same 3 Leona Lewis songs over, and over again from her iPhone...

Ick...
(Cydonija well it sure as shit ain't sad, Tue 30 Aug 2011, 11:56, 4 replies)

Surf n Turf
I'm walking home after a night out. As I reach the less classy end of town, a street populated with at least two strip clubs, a Walkabout and several other establishments I'd rather die than have a drink in, I overhear a woman outside one of these pubs praising the physical assets of one of the male regulars. "But I thought you was a lezza" her friend replies. "Nah mate, I like a bit of both. I'm surf and turf innit". I shudder and walk on.
(bsue61, Tue 30 Aug 2011, 11:17, Reply)

Surely most people
have sent a text message to everyone in their phonebook saying, 'I know your secret'.

You can get quite a few interesting responses. Most of the time it's 'ha ha, shut up', but I've also had back the following:

- Shit, really? Was it Mark that told you? Please keep it to yourself (from a work colleague)

- It's a load of bollocks mate. Why would I do that? (from a good friend)

- This is getting boring. I DID NOT SLEEP WITH HIM! (from a female friend)

and my personal favourite:

- For fuck sake. Listen to me, I did not, and I repeat NOT, have a wank on the train. (another mate).
(Monkey the Chicken Twitter: death_stairs, Tue 30 Aug 2011, 10:40, 8 replies)

Tent's Aren't Soundproof
About 3/4 years ago I went on a camping holiday with my parents and younger sister. I have been on many camping holidays with them, but this was the first one where we had our own tent (technically was a 16 man tent but me and my sister wanted our own pod and dad wanted somewhere to store the mini-fridge and all the cooking stuff). We had gone up to the south of France, we like it there as you get the beautiful scenerey, the heat and can freak out the locals by talking to them in French (they don't get many Brits where we used to go - at least not many who knew what they were saying!)

Anyway, this tent was awsome. We had all been out on a wine-tasting trip, bought many new wines and were getting through them quite happily. We are quite a relaxed bunch anyway, so decided to play a game - this game was called, guess which Disney film this song came from. None of us is musically talented. My mum is tone deaf. We were pretty loud, mostly from pissing ourselves when my sister got confused and was insisting that Can You Feel The Love Tonight was from Beauty and the Best.

This continued for an hour or so, then we started with Inspector Clueseau impressions, which sparked many comedy impressions.

Then we decided to call it a night. Or we tried to. My dad decided before going to sleep to let rip with an impressive fart, sending us women into fits of giggles and a surge of fake farting (where you blow into the crook of your arm or back of the hand).

We thought this was fantastic.

Next morning, I was first up to treck out to the toilet block to get brush teeth, brush hair etc, when I hear someone humming near-by. From the tent next to us in fact. They were humming Disney songs, trying hard not to laugh. They never said anything, but we all knew they had heard Every. Damn. Thing.

We left the campsite as soon as possible for the day and didn't come back until it was dark. God (if it exists) only knows what they thought the farting was all about!!
(Cydonija well it sure as shit ain't sad, Tue 30 Aug 2011, 10:39, 4 replies)

Inside head-voice, outside head-voice.
Less an overheard secret, more the suggestion of one.

When I were a nipper, maybe twelve or thirteen, I was a paper boy. One day, I was watching the shop while the gaffer had a fag break when a girl wandered in. She was maybe a little older than me, and pretty, but a little...faraway looking.
She was leafing through the 'seventeen' magazines when she started singing to herself in an thin, reedy voice, not realising what she was doing.
"Let me suck your nipples. Doo doo doo. Let me suck your nipples. La la la."

We were the only people in the shop. I heard her and she knew. She turned to me with a look of horror, said "Oh my God, so sorry!" and dashed out.

And you know what? I so wish I'd run after her. Fuck the paper shop. I got fired two days later anyway. I should have chased after that weird little princess and asked her out. It could've been the start of something beautiful. And I'd've found out what the fuck she was thinking about.
(universalpsykopath loves what you've done with your hair., Tue 30 Aug 2011, 10:29, 2 replies)

The First - and Second - Sign of Madness
It was a warm, sunny day. A carefree primary-schoolboy at the time, I was pootling my way through town to do whatever it was children of that age did during late 1980s late summers. I noticed that, just ahead of me, a man was shuffling slowly in the same direction. He was dishevelled and seemed to be mumbling to himself. As I drew nearer and overtook him, I could hear more clearly what he was saying. He turned out to be describing an event in fairly graphic detail to a friend - a friend who just happened to be invisible.
"... and then we drowned him, but it still didn't kill him; and then we cut off his head, but it still didn't kill him; and then we put him in the oven, but it still didn't kill him..."

The mumbling became fainter as I passed, and so I don't know how many other gruesome attempts were made on this person's life, or who he was, or whether any was in the end successful. He must have been a resilient bugger, though.

Twenty-something years later, I'm still reminded of him every time I overhear someone on the street talking nonsense into a handsfree phone.
( Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Tue 30 Aug 2011, 10:07, Reply)

At work
I was sorting out a problem with an Orthopaedic system when I caght the briefest snippet of conversation between two surgeons:
"... I pushed the drill too hard and it came out the other side of his fucking thigh..."
(ScousersPet, Tue 30 Aug 2011, 9:31, 2 replies)

In the pub
I was drinking in a fairly nice pub in Manchester. When it was my round, I went the bar and ended up stood next to two horrible looking blokes - you know the type: would probably list their job as "security consultants", steroid-pumped muscles, too much jewelry, all that... sucessful drug-dealers, basically.

I was trying to shuffle away from them a little, lest I be accused of looking at their pint or spilling their bird or something, when their conversation took a slightly strange turn. I'm going to paraphrase a little here, but this was the gist:
1: I think Dave might be gay
2: Dave who? OUr Dave? No way?
1: Yeah, our Dave. I really think he is?
2: What the fuck makes you say that?
1: Well, we were out on the lash the other night and we pulled some student bird. We took her back to my place and we were splitting her, like. I was giving her a good piping when Dave suddenly stuck his cock up my arse
2: Fucking hell!
1: Yeah...
2: What did you do then?
1: Well, I kinda liked it...

I made a hasty exit at that point.
(ScousersPet, Tue 30 Aug 2011, 9:31, 3 replies)

On the tube
Way back when I lived in London, I was stood on the tube next to two fairly well-off looking city-type lasses. As the tube was pretty much crammed, I was stood almost between them. Thier conversation went like this:
1: I got Chris to try that thing last night, had to get him drunk first though
2: What thing?
1: That thing we were talking about last week
2: Which thing?
1: Y'know, that THING *makes vague hand gesture*
2: What thing? Just saying that thing over and over doesn't help
1: mumble mumble
2: What?
1: MUMBLE MUMBLE
2: WHAT?
1: ANAL SEX!

My head snapping round to look at her gave away that I was listening and they shut up at that point.
(ScousersPet, Tue 30 Aug 2011, 9:24, 3 replies)

Gobby schoolgirl on the 140 to Harrow.
"Yeah, you know what? My boyfriend gave me an eye infection because he couldn't aim properly"
(Windy Militant, Tue 30 Aug 2011, 8:38, 4 replies)

David Kelly
Nuff said.
( The Mock TurtIe ™ --- Thinks you are a cunt, on, Mon 29 Aug 2011, 21:18, 3 replies)

One maths lesson all the conversations suddenly stopped except one so the entire class heard my friend say "I don't like vibrators they're too cold."
(Mikethfc, Mon 29 Aug 2011, 19:57, 2 replies)

From the mouths of babes
I was visiting my husband a couple of years ago, when his little sister then aged six came home from a nice day out with her friend's mum looking after her and her numerous best friends from primary school.
Her mum asked her what they had been up to and got the usual single sentence without pausing for breath kind of response that you'd get from a six year old.

"Well Daisy's mum took us to the swimming pool and we had fish fingers and chips and beans and I saw a seagull eating some chips from the floor and ...." etc. Then there was a little pause.

"Mum i've got a secret that only you can know". She was just learning about gossiping and secrets in her gaggle of school friends, but hadn't mastered tact or volume yet. In a clearly audible to the room, but hidden behind her hands so she thought we couldn't hear, she proudly said stage-whispered " I DID A SECRET WEE IN THE POOL".

The room burst out laughing, so she hastily backtracked with a hearty false laugh of her own and a bellowed "ONLY JOKING" before running from the room.
(Mrs Ballunatic counting calories, not votes., Mon 29 Aug 2011, 19:35, Reply)

Voila, les anglais sont fou
When I lived in Paris, was in a block where every floor had two apartments, each a mirror of the other. I lived next to an elderly couple, very sweet, very polite in a borgeousie french kind of way. Never really had any friendship with them, except for a smile, a "Bonjour" and a few pleasantries when we passed each other on the stairs.

A few months into my stay, I missed having a pet around and got a nine week old kitten. A while later, as usual, I passed the old man on the stairs and he asked how I was. We started chatting a bit (bit of a challenge, as my limited O'level french hadn't really got any better). To my surprise, he asked me if I had a new girlfriend. Thinking for a few moments, I realized that he must have heard me talking to the kitten so I replied "non, j'ai une nouvelle chaton". He stared at me for a few seconds with a look of surprise and then started giggling. He giggled SO hard, that soon he was clutching the bannister and was almost choking with laughter. I just stood there, lamely smiling (as you do when everyone is laughing at a joke you don't really understand). I assumed I had said something stupid in French. When he finally got his breath back, he wiped his eyes and told me in English, "my wife and I thought you had a sex-mad new girlfriend". Ok, now really confused, but then it hit me: like all kittens & puppies, my little one was always wanting to play at 3am, or early in the morning when I was sleeping in weekends. My automatic response was to shout at her, and they must have heard that through the adjoining wall

"leave me alone, it's Saturday morning!!"
"fuck sake, go to sleep!"
"get off me!"
And the classic (when she would scratch me to get attention):
"Stop scratching me, that bloody hurt!"

(I might add that I love her dearly..she's been around for 15 years now... just have limited patience at 3am)
(sabre32, Mon 29 Aug 2011, 18:27, 7 replies)

Just last month
I heard a group of old ladies chatting in the hotel lounge where I work. One of them, who is rather deaf, talks very loudly, as is often the case. I was half earwigging, when I heard the loud old lady say, as sincere as you like:

"You know what, my daughter thinks she's going to put me in one of those homes. No chance. What she doesn't know is one night I'm going to go to bed with a litre of brandy and a bottle of sleeping pills".
(davefromkent, Mon 29 Aug 2011, 18:06, 3 replies)

sat night
the bloke goes to bangface, which is a rave on a boat. i politely declined the invitation to sail up and down the thames listening to 6 hours of the sort of "music" that makes me want to shoot myself. and then the dj. and then him. but he is thoroughly overexcited by the whole thing, and spends the whole night keeping me awake by texting me and sending me little video clips of DJ's with charming names like HELLFISH.

anyway one of the video clips picks up the couple in front of him very clearly. he says something very polite about one of his colleagues. and she tucks her bright dyed red hair behind her ear and replies: "i don't fucking know, you fucking twat, cos i don't fucking judge people like you fucking do, do i?"

to which he replies: "no, sorry darling."

and she says: "pffffft. fuck."

i have never seen or heard a more pussywhipped guy in my entire life! i was laughing a lot. (my concentration on this did not go down well the next day when i was expected to have an opinion on the "music" and not the arguing couple.)
( rachelswipe with a fork, Mon 29 Aug 2011, 14:40, 6 replies)

It was our conversation that was overheard...
My partner and I had just got off a tram, waiting for the lights to change so we could walk home. Out of nowhere, she turned and gushed at me, "I *love* your cock!". Then she saw the bloke standing just behind me, waiting for the same lights to change.

She was, of course, embarrassed. I was, and still am pretty chuffed.
(Pleiades, Mon 29 Aug 2011, 14:25, 3 replies)

Happy Families
A few years ago, I was on an aeroplane and couldn't help overhearing a nugget from the conversation of the family in front of me: two parents and their teenage son.
"So, Dad, what's the biggest orgy you and Mum have ever been to?"
( Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Mon 29 Aug 2011, 9:21, 3 replies)

The game
This is my first pearoast be gentle.

*Me and my friends used to play this game basically you walk down the street having as normal a conversation as you can and as someone walks past you say something suggestive but as long as its relevant to the conversation at the time.

For example:

Me:Today sucked
Friend:why ?
Me:Well i had this really stupid idea to put a pen
(someone walks past)
in my mouth and then i sucked on it really hard.

Give it a go see if you can put in such classics as

"And i swear to god that's the last time i put my fist in hole it doesn't belong"

and

"It was 12 inches long as went down a treat with my gooey yoghurt" *
(shake'n'bake Tally Ho, Biatch!, Mon 29 Aug 2011, 3:46, Reply)

I was in a melbourne suburban shopping mall, in line for an icecream in the food mall
the girl behind the counter was chatting to this matronly woman in front of me. "Yeah, we were rooting (fucking) last night. He's married and he's a producer on Chances. He's giving me a role". Chances was this crappy short-lived TV drama. I thought either she or the producer was bullshitting, but blow me down, there she was next month on the telly: the ice-cream girl from the shopping centre
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chances_%28TV_series%29

ok. so it's not my best anecdote. I'd like to see you do any better. You can? We'll fuck you. You think I need to be here? I have important people I could be seeing. You hear me? Important People
( cumquat may will not be commenting further on the allegations, Mon 29 Aug 2011, 1:43, 3 replies)

Hardcore selftrolling (contains massive drugs)
(NINJA EDIT: had that before, so reap posteriors..)

One sunday morning, in the almost empty first train home. Coming down from a night of relentless debauchery and dodgy footwork. Me fading in and out of the surroundings, between the body dozing off and the mind still bouncing around in its feral state. Voices behind me catch my ear and i casually listen in. They sound rough and creaky, must be fellow punters of Big Mother Night and the Seductions. They discuss some bloke that spent the night with them, taking the piss and exaggerating. But not actually laughing, instead getting into subtle reasoning of how he came to this, compairing blunders he had, deducting.

We all have at one time or the other known one or another phenotype of that guy they introduced to me. He who tries to hard. Wonky grasp upon the concept of his culture, the more eager to shove his half truths in everyones face. The sense of humour that never fails to distress and confuse. Whose social deficiency are clearly visible to all but himself. But also eager to please with free drinks, and certain source for massive ripping of piss as the gurning helpless idiot he turns himself into. And no matter what kind of evil prank you play on him, he will be back, like the inbred puppy he is.

Some are born to sweet delight, some are born to endless night, methinks, as i am amazed at the surgical cold these well-versed youth compete with. Well, what can be done, at least the poor sod wouldn't know. Then the world zooms back into focus in warp speed, as i hear my name mentioned. And sure enough, these people commence to take apart things that have happened to me. Most of which were buried in the cesspit of you-know-what, if not never been aware from an objective outlook. And now my little missteps and what they must imply were related to me and judgement passed.

Fists are clenched, teeth ground, and desperately i scour my bleached-out greasy thinkbox for who might be able to get all this trivia together. These people must have taken some kind of obscene interest in collecting this, through years and subcultures. Which is not too hard, small town, the part that matters. But mostly, they must have been there for all that detail. Those thrice-damned Stasi rotters, how could they, none of this is true, well, maybe is, i surely had reasons, ah, these false pigs, to fuck me over like that, screw you, IT IS GO TIME!

With this, the adrenaline lifts me off the seat and i grumble and creak down the carriage. There, the backs of their heads a few seats further down. Will i try to set stuff straight? Use my razor sharp wits to humiliatre their behaviour . Will i donkey punch the arrogant fuckers in the cunt? Acidic, boiling wrath leaves me too confused and i walk past. As i turn back, there is an indian family on those places, two grown-ups and their little daughter. They chatted languidly, in the same voices, in their language though. But the dialogue must have been entirely fabricated by me then.


That was the day stuff had to change.
(funktrash soul = combustion engine, Sun 28 Aug 2011, 18:20, 7 replies)

Poo
A few weeks ago, on holiday on ze continent, the boyfriend made me go on a hike in a valley which I will begrudgingly describe as rather lovely. Well, it turned out that everyone within a forty mile radius had decided to descend on this valley on the same day and the place was heaving. There were only a few trails through the woods, and all trails converged on a central point which had nothing but a map and a toilet block.

'Block' might be the wrong word, as in fact there was one toilet per gender, and consequently there were long queues for each.

I duly joined the queue for the ladies and patiently waited my turn. After about 15 minutes I got to the front of the queue; there was just one large portugese lady standing between me and relief.

Said large portugese lady entered the toilet. For some time, no noise wss heard. Then it came.... straining. Clearly audible straining, heard by me and the ten or so women queueing behing me. Grunting was heard. It was uncomfortable. I imagine it was uncomfortable for the portugese lady too, but for different reasons.

Of course, there are inevitable results of all that straining - what can only be described as explosive ejection of what I imagine (in my darkest moments) to be an impressive amount of excreta.

The queue was silent.

I was first in line to sit on the toilet into which this explosion had just happened.

I left the queue and clenched for the rest of the day.
(G-Lo, Sun 28 Aug 2011, 13:53, 9 replies)

I'm a native English speaker living in Germany...
I was with the ex and we went to pick up a friend of hers who is German. She got in the car and we exchanged pleasantries in German. She hadn't met me before, but from my rudimentary German she ascertained that I was obviously was unable to understand much. I can actually understand quite a bit, but my speaking German is rubbish.

So as we drove off the two girls started chatting away in the back. I was then treated to a 15 minute verbal diarrhoea description of how this girl had got so drunk that she had sucked off some guy she just met in a club in full view of everyone. She then got his cock out and finished him off while she opened her legs and he put his fingers in her pussy. She said he probably had 3 fingers inside her, but she wasn't sure. After she was done with his massive cock, and I know it was massive because she made great pains to mention this several times throughout the story, she kissed him a bit more and then left. No numbers were changed. She said it was the first time she had done that and it was liberating.

So we arrived at our destination and when we got out I thanked her for the great story. She went bright red from shame and didn't talk for about 5 minutes.
(The Archduke of South London I'm in your Girlfriend eating her organs, Sun 28 Aug 2011, 13:20, 2 replies)

There's so much I to say
but then I'd have to kill you and use that special switch to turn off the interwebs.

Damn! Damn! Oh shit there's a Party Van just pulled up outs i
( buffet_the_appetite_slayer ٩(●̮̃•)۶ jacked in to the ICE on, Sun 28 Aug 2011, 8:58, 30 replies)

Dieting secrets
On a bus in Sydney, three 15-ish year old girls at the back of the bus.

Girl 1: I heard that the supermodels eat balls of cotton woll so they expand in their stomachs and means they aren't hungry
Girl 2: Really? I wonder if that would work?

Discussion follows on the merits of cotton wool based diets.

Girl 3: I tried to be bulimic but I don't have a gag reflex.

I wanted to say to her that's a talent which will make her popular in the future but I didn't want to end up on a register.
(bigjonnydynamite, Sun 28 Aug 2011, 7:39, Reply)

My mother the typist
My sister asked Mom to type a recipe for her because she (Sis) was busy doing something else.

Sis: "It's a short recipe and it won't take you long."
Mom: "I would, but I have to leave in just a few minutes."
Sis: "Okay,I guess I'll have time to type it myself"
Mom: "Besides, I'm a hunt-'n'-pecker."

I left, cackling to myself, knowing full well that I could trick Mom into using that expression in front of people who would roar out loud.

I did--she did--and they did--loud and long :)
( LS18, Sun 28 Aug 2011, 6:46, Reply)

I used to have a boss whose family were from India.
One day, I was in the room next to his office and I could hear him talking on the phone. I think he was talking to his father.
But I have no idea what he was saying because it was all in Gujarati.
( 4Q just lurking, Sun 28 Aug 2011, 5:06, 1 reply)