This happened.
So, I’m out in the car. My 10-year-old supermodel cousin had licked it clean that very morning in gratitude for a whole night’s babysitting. After a night like that, baby could hardly sit. BOOM BOOM! Thank you, I’ll be here all week, unless the mods boot out my sorry arse.

Needless to say, as 10-year-olds tend to, she’s already hoovering up my massive stash, a personal birthday present from Pablo Escobar that I was lucky to be able to keep when that copper pulled me over last year. I reassured him that his bum didn’t look big in his uniform and he waved me off with a smile, missing the fact that the panels of my Accord are made from pure cocaine.

Before you know it I hear the sirens behind me - I must have been swerving between the ol’ lanes a bit from having one hand on the wheel and the other in Cuz’s knickers...it was either that or Batman must have been coming to ask for his car back after he leant it to me last weekend so I could beat the queues at Lakeside Thurrock.

Needless to say, it was a copper in dire need of my assistance. He staggered up to the door of my Accord and I saw straightaway that he had a face-hugger wrapped around his middle-class chops, tail curling and squeezing around his pink neck. He was moaning and mumbling in blind panic, though I knew the look in his eyes meant “Help me, Rancid Hamster, Internet Hero - you’re my only hope!”. He knew, as did I, that the only way to dislodge a face-hugger in full embrace was via the power of human urine.

Long story short, I accidentally pissed in a copper’s mouth. He was alright about it, though, and that very evening he bought me a pint at the executive lounge bar in Buckingham Palace.
( .Yeti. El amor en los tiempos del cólera, Tue 1 Oct 2013, 11:53, 4 replies)

Fucking nonces.
First, they eye up our kids, then, rather than waiting until they're of age, they look for loopholes. Disneyland Paris? Nonceville Paris more like.

It makes me sick.
( Muns, Tue 1 Oct 2013, 11:26, 2 replies)

Road Rage
This weekend just gone, I was sitting at some traffic lights in my car (not an Accord, no supermodels in the back, no massive drugs in the glove box, just an ordinary car). I was about 6 or 7 cars back, and there were several cars behind me.

The lights changed to green, and we started to move off, in that one-at-a-time way people move away from traffic lights. Almost at the exact same instant as the lights changed, there was a beeping from behind me, and I looked in my mirror to see the guy behind me shouting and gesticulating furiously that I should move.

Given that I was about 6 inches from the car in front of me, which hadn't started moving yet, I'm not sure where he wanted me to go... upwards, maybe?

tl;dr - I just read that back and fuck me it's dull
( skullfunkerry In case of implosion do not look into implosion, Tue 1 Oct 2013, 10:47, 5 replies)

I read something by RabidRodent, and I didn't like it.
He's no Liemallow, so I'm not proper outraged, but even still, it's made me less than happy, so I'd probably behead him with my samurai sword and chuck his corpse in a skip, should the opportunity arise.
( monster munch person, man, woman... camera... TV?, Tue 1 Oct 2013, 10:04, 4 replies)

On another occasion...
I was out for a drive in my Evo. I had two 17-year-old girls in the car who were wanting to pull over to do lesbionics on each other. Not wanting to jizz in my pants whilst they were making out on the back seat, I put my foot down.

Traffic cop sees me doing 155mph, catches up when I have to slow for a roundabout, and pulls me over.

I get out of the car, and the copper says "your car's shit and those girls are ugly".

This did not sit well with me, and the red mist descended. He asked if I had my driving licence. I said it was back in the glove compartment.

I walked back to the car, opened the passenger door, and instead of reaching for the glove compartment I reached under the seat and retrieved my double-barrelled shotgun.

I removed the safety catch and turned back towards the traffic cop. "Prepare to die, pig!" I shouted. I pulled the trigger. The first round hit him in the chest. He hit the ground. Standing over him I pointed the gun at his head. "Night night, scum," I shouted, before pulling the trigger and discharging the second cartridge into his head, blowing it clean to pieces.

The two 17-year-old girls were almost orgasmic by this point, a bit like Salad Fingers with his favourite rusty spoon. They got out of the car, and we began to feast on the flesh of the now deceased traffic cop.

Having consumed his remains, we got back in the car, drove to the woods and fucked each other's brains out.
(RabidRodent I'm the person your mother warned you about, Tue 1 Oct 2013, 0:07, 30 replies)

Once upon a time
I saw an old man fall over and smack his head on the kerb. I went to help him as he flailed in the road and tried to get up. I got him to his feet and over to a nearby bench. He had a cut on his head, and there was blood on the kerb, and blood running down his face.

I asked if he was ok but he just twitched around, afraid of noises, saying he'd fallen over over and over again, not knowing where he was. I asked if there was someone I could call, who could look after him, hoping he'd have something on him, as he was evidently some kind of alzheimer's.

I sat with him a while and calmed him down. I got him to hold his handkerchief over the cut on his head to stem the bleeding. We were out the front of the council offices, so I looked to see if there it was open, so I could use their phone to call him an ambulance. Just then I heard cries of "Dad? Dad! Thank God!" from behind me.

A middle-class tweedy couple in their 40s ran from down the high street, the old man's son and daughter-in-law. They huffed and puffed and where visibly relieved. The woman nodded vaguely in my direction.

I was about halfway through the sentence "Just so you know, he fell over and really cracked his head on that kerbstone" when his son told me to fuck off.
(cs1ca, Mon 30 Sep 2013, 23:14, 4 replies)

Sexy copper
So, I'm out in the car. My cousin, who was about 10 at the time, was sucking me off as I was "babysitting" (for want of a better expression) that day.

Needless to say, as 10-year-olds tend to, she's egging me on to come in her mouth. We got to the vinegar strokes along a stretch of dual carriageway before I had to ease off as traffic was building up ahead. Anyway, with the urge to come fading, the blue flashing lights appeared in my mirror and I get pulled over.

The usual script gets read out, about how "dangerous" it is etc etc... "and how would you feel if your daughter there got pregnant?" (To be fair, she does look like she could be.)

Automatically I said "she's not my daughter". Before I could finish my sentence with "she's my cousin", this little twat of a copper said "oh right, you're a paedo, can I join in?".

Needless to say, this did not sit well with me, and the red mist descended. By the time his colleague had got out of the car and held me back, Plod was on the floor, me having repeatedly punched him in the sphincter. He had a japs eye, a split anus and a bloody good time.

Backup arrived, and I retrieved my phone from my pocket, stopped it recording and played the recording back to the uniforms who had arrived. They let me go as soon as they heard it.

Needless to say, Plod whined to the CPS and I got a summons for a. noncing, and b. raping a police officer. It gets to court. The recording gets played - at which point the CPS withdraw their case.

I get the Jimmy Saville award for bravery, the copper gets ballsacked.
( A Rory Borealis here under duress, Mon 30 Sep 2013, 21:32, 2 replies)

I was once sitting in the living room of my friend's parent's house, waiting for him to get ready to go out.
I was making small talk with his Mum while his Dad was going mental with someone on the phone in the kitchen.

I remember the line 'I don't fucking care Terry, I've had enough. If he does it again I'm smashing the cunt's wrists with a hammer!' while he appeared to be slamming every single drawer and cupboard he could find. He then went into the back garden and hurled a white plastic garden chair onto the roof of the shed.

His Mum looked suitably embarrassed.

I brought this up in the pub later and was told that Terry was the guy across the road and they'd been discussing the window cleaner, the cause of frustration being his habit of reaching through the kitchen window to put the now empty cup of tea he'd been offered straight into the sink.

I'd have done his ankles too, the cunt!
(FartThroughAWalkieTalkie wished you were dead in ditch on, Mon 30 Sep 2013, 19:37, 1 reply)

Bastard copper...
So, I'm out in the car. My cousin, who was about 10 at the time, was sat in the passenger seat as I was "babysitting" (for want of a better expression) that day.

Needless to say, as 10-year-olds tend to to, she's egging me on to drive faster and faster. We got to about 140mph along a stretch of dual carriageway before I had to ease off as traffic was building up ahead. Anyway, with the speed down to about 80mph, the blue flashing lights appeared in my mirror and I get pulled over.

The usual script gets read out, about how "dangerous" it is etc etc... "and how would you feel if your daughter there got hurt?" (To be fair, she does look like she could be.)

Automatically I said "she's not my daughter". Before I could finish my sentence with "she's my cousin", this little twat of a copper said "oh right, your girlfriend, you look like a paedo to me".

Needless to say, this did not sit well with me, and the red mist descended. By the time his colleage had got out of the car and held me back, Plod was on the floor, me having repeatedly lamped him in the head. He had a black eye, a split lip and a bloody nose.

Backup arrived, and I retrieved my phone from my pocket, stopped it recording and played the recording back to the uniforms who had arrived. They let me go as soon as they heard it.

Needless to say, Plod whined to the CPS and I got a summons for a. speeding, and b. assaulting a police officer. It gets to court. The recording gets played - at which point the CPS withdraw their case.

I get awarded costs, the copper gets sacked.
(RabidRodent I'm the person your mother warned you about, Mon 30 Sep 2013, 17:46, 446 replies)

So, I used to run a pub and sometimes when you dispense alcohol you have to pay the price
and you have to act as a sociability co-ordinator in terms of allowing other people to drink peaceably and get rid of potential trouble makers or just "not our kind of people" NOKOPS. One early Saturday evening a gentleman came into the pub and seemed okay alcohol wise but within half an hour I could see that he was a little unsteady. He then decided to become the a very typical arsehole. "Queers this, niggers that, Hitler was right etc. etc. etc." Time for him to leave. I used the "get glass, walk to door technique" - get a persons near full pint and they tend to follow it. Without boring you with the slanging match I did have to remove him. By this time my own personal cool was diminishing and perhaps in moments of anger you will notice that you do tend to start to shake.

He noticed the shakes and said, "Shaking with fear!" - "No, I am angry." - I throw the fucker out the door and into the wing of my prized Rover SD1 V8 Vanden Plas. This left a dent and I became furious and things went to a blackout. I was removed from the chap by regulars and I started to come out from the blackout. A woman said, "My god, look at your face." I thought that I had an injury, went to the toilet mirror and I was shocked. My face had turned shades of black and grey and I actually saw the normal colour returning. That's it, no comedy. Just a realisation that "black looks", "face like thunder" have a meaning in reality and it is when you reach a pure fury.
( d.r._and_quinch when will you be famous?, Mon 30 Sep 2013, 15:56, 29 replies)

A friend with breasts and all the rest,
A friend who's dressed in leather

Oh, sorry
( drimble he'd been white, he'd been black, Mon 30 Sep 2013, 11:30, 11 replies)

I typed some stuff, and then some other people typed some different stuff.
I was furious, and typed some more stuff, then they typed some more stuff, then I went and had my tea, and then came back, and typed some more stuff, had a quick one off the wrist, typed some more stuff, had a cry, then read what other people had typed, and typed some more stuff.

I'm a hero.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Mon 30 Sep 2013, 9:36, 25 replies)

I used to post interminably long pieces on a story telling website.
With little other need for verification than simply reading them it was quite apparent to even the dumbest reader that they were complete bullshit. Eventually even my name was adapted to and became synonymous with lying.
Yet I would defend the 'facts' presented in these tales to the point of often making myself look even more foolish by making greater and grander statements in order to justify the 'truths' I had already told.
Eventually I decided to publicly declare that I was leaving the site forever, never to return. Whilst doing so I took a few potshots at some of the sites resident trolls and a fellow storyteller.

I managed to stay away for a couple of weeks and then I returned in full bullshitting glory. Things were good briefly but then I started to cop some flack from the usual suspects. In a fit of (drunken) inspiration I thought I'd turn on a fellow storyteller - who knows best how to bully than someone who's already been bullied themselves? So, trying to ingratiate myself with those I'd previously suffered at the hands of I went to town on what had once been a fellow teller. I wrote mildly funny versions of post that he'd previously posted. It was funny at first but then my innate creepiness came to the fore and rather continuing to be humorous my copy-posts quickly became a bit weird and very urophilic.
Amongst the back slapping & new found camaraderie I had with the trolls and bullies picking on someone else I had a strange niggling in the back of my mind. But I chose to ignore it.

Eventually it hit me a bit like you'd prefer a punch in the face not to - my memory was too short. I had forgotten that my new besties who were all crowding around me congratulating on the fine job I had done picking on someone else were the self-same mob that only short weeks ago had been baying for my blood. And what was worse was that I had become one of them. From victim to perpetrator I had crossed over into a realm where I was a snide and nasty person whose only input to the site was to spit hatred, bile and invective at those I perceived to be different or weaker than myself.

I can't wait to hit my 10000 post mark!
(s0ckpuppet logging out to reply to you if you're not careful, Mon 30 Sep 2013, 1:41, 56 replies)

Never joke with a woman in labor.
It was in February of 1991, cold and snowy, and her water had broken. We were prepared with the bags and all, so I bundled her into the car and drove her to the hospital uneventfully. It happened to be the hospital where she worked as a nurse, so she knew some of the people on duty that night.

We got to Labor & Delivery, got her all signed in and situated, and she chatted with one of the nurses as we put her into her gown and onto the bed. Once the nurse left she looked a little uncomfortable. "It's Dr. Somenameiveforgotten on duty tonight. He's okay, I guess, but I'm not sure that I want him doing this because I already know him."

The doctor entered a few minutes later to check on her. He was short, balding with a fringe of white hair around the base of his skull, was rather fat and had a snub nose. He also had a big grin and a rather distinctive way of speaking and a distinctive chuckle... in fact, he was Elmer Fudd incarnate.

When he left I finally gave in to the giggles. "What's so funny?" she demanded.

"Shhhhh! Be vewwy vewwy quiet. She's having a baby! Huhuhuhuhuhuh."

"Now just a-"

"Wook! Contwactions! Huhuhuhuhuhuhuhuh."

"Goddammit-"

"Oooooh, you wascally baby! Come out of there!"

Her face was deep red with veins popping out by this point. Had she been able to get to her feet she would have ripped my throat out.

She requested a different doctor. And never forgave me.
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Sun 29 Sep 2013, 17:32, 4 replies)

Travellers
I once witnessed a young Irish Gypsy couple having an argument; well the polite, demure looking girl of about 19 was having an argument AT her hapless husband who had provoked her fury.

As the row was about to start she calmly said that her and hubby had something to 'chat' about and went inside their house (yes I know, house , travellers, but it was not on wheels). She then proceeded to tear into him while he protested his innocence.

At the height of her verbal onslaught that was audible to anyone on the council estate in question (Northfields in Leicester) she screamed the memorable line........ "Ya pig's cunt ye".
(Barnetboy, Sun 29 Sep 2013, 15:29, 11 replies)

FUCK HIM AND FUCK HIS DENIALS.

( drimble he'd been white, he'd been black, Sun 29 Sep 2013, 10:40, Reply)

How appropriate
You fight like a cow.
(Eukanuba, Sat 28 Sep 2013, 20:26, Reply)

Needless to say, I had the last laugh!
Back in the early 1973 I had a job at a busy bar in Perth. My mum had bribed the owner to take me on - very generous on her part, as the owner wanted $500 in advance before he'd even offer me a shift! Trouble was, I'd been fired from my last four jobs and word had got around town that I was an unemployable buffoon.

My last position at the minicab firm had really caused a stir. They'd given me this brand new car that was obviously faulty. I jumped into the car to go and collect my first fare and as it was 8pm, I made sure the car was in 'N' for 'Night' and put my foot down. Nothing happened. Bugger, I thought, the clock must be screwed, so I put the stick firmly into the 'D' for 'Day' position and this time REALLY put my foot down...and straight through the launderette window I went! That one cost mum a lot more than $500!

Anyhoo, back to Perth. The boss wouldn't let me do anything else other than collect glasses. I'd tried behind the bar but ever since one bastard customer convinced me that metal money was worth more than paper money (I mean, why wouldn't it be?), the bossman wouldn't let me go near the tills. I'd also had a brief, unsuccessful stint as bog-cleaner - but none of the women took kindly to me sticking my mop down the bowl whilst they were having a dump. I mean come on, who doesn't want a pristine bit of porcelain to shit into?

So glass collecting it was. But I knew a little secret about glass collecting, a little secret that I was going to share with no one. Thing is, as a 'glassy', not only do you have to collect all the empties - but you can 'empty' them yourself, if you know what I mean! I would slurp down every single bit of beer, vodka, whiskey, juice - anything that was in those dirty empties, I emptied into my gut! So much free booze! I was loaded every night - and all for free!

One night after the local rugby club had visited, I must have got away with necking the equivalent of 20 pints of free beer. The rugby boys never finished their pints - they always left at least a mouthful down the bottom, a mouthful just for Rob! But that night there was trouble, one real nasty drunkard was harassing Bella the barmaid. It was so busy in the bar that no one was coming to her aid. That's when I stepped in.

I ran over to Bella and if her if she wanted me to throw the oaf out. She told me no - but something in her eyes signified that she wanted me to act, and act quickly. So I jumped on his back and we went spinning through the bar. He managed to shake me off and then came charging at me. And then, just like in the movies, the music stopped and everyone, punters, staff, passers-by - they all turned in expectation to watch the BIG FIGHT.

As the drunkard charged at me he slipped violently on the beer-soaked floor. I saw my opportunity and acted with speed and dexterity. In seconds I was standing over him. I ripped of my shirt, pulled down my trousers and yanked off my filthy y-fronts. Ha! Little did my victim know that I was loaded with 20 pints of lovely free beer. But he soon found out as I emptied my overfull bladder all over the loser. Man, I must have pissed for five whole minutes before I ran dry, the poor bastard was SOAKED!

Kneel Before Rob!

I spun to face Bella whilst squeezing the last few drops from my greasy cock. Victory! I cried! Victory is mine! Bella seemed to vomit into her mouth, I saw a little bit seep out her lips...but I guess it was a pretty violent episode and her nerves must have got the better of her. Still, I knew I was her hero. I spun again to face the crowd. Some of the hardest men in Perth were there - and they all backed away from me. They were afraid. Very afraid. I grabbed a last free beer from my glassy's bucket and ran screaming into the dark Perth night...
( Albert Marshmallow is a completely irredeemable cunt, Sat 28 Sep 2013, 19:14, 46 replies)

Right then, i'll keep this as short as possible to keep you past the opening line below.
I play bowls! Still there? Good.
This contains two for the price of one in the same venue.
About 20 years ago my team mates and i had qualified for the regional finals of the national under 25s two rink ( 8 players) competition representing warwickshire at Bath in Somerset.
The quarter and semi final were on the sunday so being responsible young bowls players we arrived in Bath on friday with the intention of a damn good piss up that night and saturday.
Sat in one of the local establishments ( cant remember the name) early in the evening we were generally having a good time like a bunch of lads do.
Across the bar from our table there was a tv on the wall showing you've been framed with old small hand presenting it. For the best part of 10 minutes i kept diverting my attention to the tv and laughing at select clips.
All good.
A few moments later a bloke of about 40 is towering over me demanding to know what my fucking problem is and why i keep laughing at him. He has ,by now, the obligatory purple face of rage and imminent intent of battering me.
After explaining that i was laughing at the tv above him he just turned round and walked away.
After the long silence between us we decided to move on elsewhere.
An hour or two passed and by now we were getting nicely pissed and a bit noisy to boot.
I needed a piss so headed off to the loo.
Mid stream , i glance to my left to see guess who staring at me.
Fuck i thought.
" I'm going to rip your fucking head off" says he.
I'm still pissing. How do i deal with this?
Answer. I don't
Cue the arrival of my good mate Mat
No questions, no warning,no introduction. Mat wraps his arm around blokes neck and charges at full pace with him into cubicle and buries blokes head into toilet cistern breaking the cistern in the process. Bloke collapses to floor by toilet pan amidst lots of blood and water.
Mat looks back at me and says " I think he's fucking dead"
" Let's get the fuck out of here" I reply.
Saturday was a bit edgy trying to find the quiet pubs for a drink.
Mat is quite simply a monster when he loses it.
For that i am very grateful .
Thanks Mat.
(boarders You won't catch me with my trousers, Sat 28 Sep 2013, 18:45, 10 replies)

This was a reply lower down, but I feel it deserves its own entry - Misjudged banter
I had been working in the best job I've ever had, for about four years. My friend Will was always quick to take the piss, but he didn't take it so well. At the time of this story he was going out with a black girl named Donna, who worked at our West Bromwich office. Will regularly referred to her as a nigger.

Anyway, he'd come into my office (I was in charge of goods-inwards and there were four people who worked under me), and he picked up a rubber stamp and started attacking Gary with it, saying "I've always wanted to stamp you Gary!"

Gary intentionally misunderstood Will, and started accusing him of bullying, saying that stamping on him was clearly unacceptable and likely to result in disciplinary action for Will.

I interjected at this point and claimed that Will was only picking on Gary because he was a wog (Gary is white).

"What are you on about?", said Will, "I'm going out with Donna!"

"What's that Will?" said I, "Are you saying that Donna's a wog?"

Will went bright fucking red and then Gary asked him if he wanted a spade to dig himself in any deeper.

I replied that he didn't need one as he was already going out with one.

Will very nearly punched me, and complained to the management. Luckily the manager was a piss-taking pill-muncher so he wasn't personally affronted, but I did think I was going to lose my job.

I made a counter-claim against Will, pretending I'd been upset about spastic jokes he'd made, but the long and the short of it was that I decided to quit my job and go and live in Cardiff where I could take massive drugs instead.
(Eukanuba, Sat 28 Sep 2013, 18:38, 2 replies)

So my wife and I are limping through A&E on a Saturday night, like y'do...
...we're on our way to have our first baby, and I've got The Bag full of snacks, CDs, birthplan and baby clothes. My wife's got the contractions and a vice-like grip on my arm. There's a lift past A&E to the Maternity suite on the 13th floor. We are both working hard at not freaking out since her water's broke about 20 minutes previously (THAT'S when we knew they weren't 'phantom' contractions)

So we make it through the madness of A&E, there's a lift up to 13, we stagger/shuffle towards it, me coaxing all the way.

Press the button. Wait. Wait. Lift comes. Limp inside, press the button, wait, wait, wait, doors slowly close, young bloke and GF appear, catch the doors, get in, and press the button for the next floor up!

I mutter something Victor Meldrew-like to myself like "Ack! Getting a lift for one floor!"


Matey spins around on the spot, gets totally in my face inside this tiny fucking lift and basically commences to threaten me with everything short of murder. I am utterly offered out. I indicate the labouring woman next to me and tell him where we are going and why. He tells me he doesn't give a fuck. I believe him.

The doors open, GF gets out and waits. She looks a bit bored.

I try not to blink. Guy backs out of lift and, staring daggers at me, fucks off forever as the doors slowly close. I try breathing again.

Compared to the following 12 hours, that was a piece of cake. (Dads! Whenever the Midwife turns her back, remember that's your cue to have a quick tug on the Gas & Air!)*

Remember kids, sarcastic mutterings can get you in serious trouble. Leave it the professionals.


* - good idea to ask first if someone else is currently using it
(CADmonkey rollllllllled another one, just like the other one, Sat 28 Sep 2013, 18:03, 9 replies)

said something un feeling
i was phoning around friends inviting to a christening of my daughter, when i phoned one of my oldest and best mates he wasn't in but i did get his missus, she told me that they could not go as they had spent all their spare money on vet bills for their rabbit.
As normal i try to lighten the mood said i was sorry BUT AT LEAST THE SUNDAY DINNER WILL BE A GOOD ONE, it was a english giant bigger than my dog.
The phone was slammed and an hour or so later there was an irate call from an mate saying he was going to kill me. But as with good mate he started talking to me a couple of years later ;-p
(tangles1968, Sat 28 Sep 2013, 17:46, Reply)

Pissed and in charge of a motorboat
When I was a kid, a large group of us were out camping in the bush with our folks who largely entertained themselves with fishin' and drinkin'.

Anyway, the drinkin' was being slowed down by a shortage of ingredients so my cousin's dad borrowed my dad's boat so they could scoot in to town and get more grog.

Quite a while later he returns alone with the boat, jumps off and bolts off into the hills. Some time later two cold, wet and *really* angry guys stomp back in to camp trying to find my cousin's dad so they can beat the shot out of him (my cousin not being too thrilled about this as we would have been 12-14 at the time).

Seems he'd gunned the throttle a bit fast setting off for the home trip and all of them being a bit drunk, the two passengers went over the stern into the lake. Since they looked wet and angry, he took of and left them behind. So when they got back to camp, they were cold, wet, hungry, tired *and* angry, really angry.
(xixax, Sat 28 Sep 2013, 14:46, 2 replies)

A long time ago in a bar far, far away... well, actually just on the other side of the Sydney Harbour Bridge... [insert wavy lines here.]

I was a wee horny, YDFoC yoof. There was a bar in town called the Jungle Bar. It was a notorious pick-up joint. I went there one evening in search of lurve, or a close short-term approximation thereof, or even a knee-trembler in the parking lot across the laneway.

Sitting at the bar, smoking Gauloises and drinking double vodka on the rocks, thinking myself the ultimate in smoooooth sophistication to be matched only by Bryan Ferry, and enjoying that 'orrid and unfounded delusion, I spied a lass near the jukebox who really caught my attention. There was something about her that was just right tasty. I wanted to know her. I casually wandered over to her and started up a conversation.

It turned out she knew of me through another girl I had worked with as she was in the same line of business. We had a nice chat talking about people we knew and what they were up to. During that chat, she told me about her boyfriend and recommended we should all hang out and even offered to introduce me to some of her single friends later that evening if I was still around. I toddled back to my perch at the bar to continue the night's work of smoking, drinking, leering and lusting.

A hefty bloke and his mates arrived not long after. They joined her and the folks who were with her. She disappeared, I assume, to the loo. Some of her friends who had been there when we spoke were talking to the aforementioned boofhead in a rather animated manner, one pointing at me, and boofhead looking my way briefly. I thought nothing of it, other than hoping that he was not the single friend to be introduced to me!

Soon, after having quietly drunk myself into a minor stupor, I needed to break the seal. The bathrooms at that bar weren't noted for being clean, dry or odour-neutral. If anything, they were noted for being rather uncomfortably wet and unpleasantly fragrant - and that was at opening time!


Venturing into that dubious pissoir, I relieved myself. As I restored myself to my comforts and turned to wash my hands, the boofhead appeared like a mountain, blocking the doorway, foaming at the mouth and a most astonishing shade of red.

"You!" he bellowed, "You stop talking to my girl." His roar filled the tiled room and made me right uncomfortable. I politely explained that we knew one another indirectly, and that she had told me about him and that I was no threat, other than that of perhaps being a friend to him.

"I don't care. I'm going to beat the shit out of you..."

He leaned and began to run towards me like some insane prop forward, enhanced by the red mist of his late teen relationship insecurity. He took one step, another longer and faster step, and kept accelerating. By this stage, I was just about ready to reach behind me to pick up involuntarily released faecal matter to throw at him.

His third step was in a mighty puddle of piss on the slippery tiled floor. He lost his footing, slipped and went flying, arms and legs flailing... and landed face first on the foul wet floor with a heavy thud and a short slide.

Me? Hasty exit? Oh yes.
(EffinNitWit asks his tobacco where his whisky is, Sat 28 Sep 2013, 14:17, Reply)

"You fu-coffee?"
Can really wind people up until they click, even now. I love it.
(CADmonkey rollllllllled another one, just like the other one, Sat 28 Sep 2013, 11:44, 1 reply)

I was a stroppy 17 yo Goth and had just seen 'Jaws'
There's a line "I don't need this working class bullshit" which I didn't really understand but it made this massive bloke turn purple when I said it to him one lunchtime, and everyone around hold their breath. I was impressed!

I realised in writing this that I have some previous form in the the use of this tactic for aquiring knowledge of the world. The phrase "Groo, I feel queasy" mystified 8 year old me when Clever Dick said it in Buster comic... So I just looked up and said it out loud to my parents. We were on a road trip at the time and it created quite a response.
(CADmonkey rollllllllled another one, just like the other one, Sat 28 Sep 2013, 11:38, 3 replies)

I had a very disturbing incident happen to me when I was working in a nuclear research
laboratory. something something don't make me angry Hulk smash.
( d.r._and_quinch when will you be famous?, Sat 28 Sep 2013, 8:57, Reply)

Not mine and technically not a "I'll punch you in the face!" threat
but funny non-the-less.
When I was younger one of the many jobs I had was as a glassy at a busy pub in Perth's nightclub district. It was easier work than behind the bar (which I also have done) and altho the pay was shit, staffys at the end of the night and a steady stream of young, good looking barmaids made it worthwhile.

One night after closing as I'm cleaning up out the front I notice 2 very inebriated men facing up to each other and shouting slurringly at each other. I queried the nearby bouncer if everything was ok. He just told me to watch.
After cleanup and as we guzzled and munched (and chuffed) our way thru staffys we all eventually migrated out to the front landing to watch these two drunks go at it.

1st Drunk: "Imm gunna fuking fuk youse up ya fukkin cant!" He staggers over to the other guy takes a wild swing..... and misses.
2nd Drunk: "Ahh, ya cunt. I'l fuggen kill ya, ya cunt!" he shouts as he gets up, staggers and collides with the 1st Drunk resulting in lots of swearing from them and hilarity amongst us.

Eventually the cops turned up - I reckon the bar manager had rung them, afraid we were going to drink the bar dry! And they then proceeded to join the ranks watching the physical comedy show happening over the road.
This to and fro must have gone on for a good half an hour before the cops interceded and unceremoniously bundled the two blokes into the back of the waiting paddy wagon. Amidst much gnashing of teeth and cursing. I'm guessing they were both snoring by the time the cops got them to the lockup.
No real violence - just slapstick done as it should be.
(s0ckpuppet logging out to reply to you if you're not careful, Sat 28 Sep 2013, 7:38, 25 replies)