I was walking through Wiltshire

and a mob cut me up with machetes for being a Hutu.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Sat 14 Oct 2006, 2:11, Reply)

Angry, pink, and gooey.
Myself and some friends were walking home one day, crossing side-roads in the standard way.

One side-road we couldn't see very far down, but we walked across it anyway, cue car zooming out braking suddenly beside us and waiting for us to move out the way.

Just as we sturried (look it up) aside, and were stepping onto the pavement, the driver decids this is a good point to beep. Alarming my good, but rageish friend who slopped the contents of his drink (thick milky strawberry gunge) at the car.

At the passenger door.

At the passenger door with the open window and a now angered red/strawberry drink pink passenger frothing somewhat unintelligible, as milky goodness continued to dribble off the dashboard.


Sometimes you don't know whether to run or laugh, so we did both.
( TechImp is trying to be nice (with great difficulty)., Sat 14 Oct 2006, 0:55, Reply)

Pedestrian's Revenge
I was walking a friend home one night. A car stopped for a red light, blocking the crosswalk. My friend tapped on the back of the car as we walked around it. No big deal, a mildly annoying response to a mildly annoying event.
It thoroughly pissed off the teens in the car. We got to the corner, the light turned green and we started walking across the street. The driver sped up and came to a screeching halt just before hitting us, trying to scare us. We weren't scared, but the guy walking behind us yelled out and banged on their car.
I figured that was the end of that, but the guy behind us was a cop. He yelled for his partner, they ran to their car and took off to catch the jerks. Sweet revenge.
(thatguyjoe, Fri 13 Oct 2006, 23:34, Reply)

Some twat in a BMW
flashed his lights at me for driving too fast / slow / whatever - I forget - so i followed him home at a safe distance and broke in after dark and smashed his head through his twunting widescreen TV while the ten o'clock news was on. Then I took his electric carving knife and cut off both his arms at the elbow, and fisted his wife in both her holes with his own severed stumps. Satisfied with my revenge, I shat on the pair of them, and made good my escape.
That'll teach him.
( no cake for the impuritay Patrick Stewart hasn't aged since, Fri 13 Oct 2006, 23:31, Reply)

I can't actually drive
Was with an angry driver the other day who was irritated with the slow moving vehicle in front and the car behind trying to get in front of him.

I told him what my friend had told me when he'd recently been to a European country (possibly Poland?) where there were different laws about cutting in front ect. Apparently, my friend had had great fun driving about with so much liberty... until he reached a stretch of road, simply covered with wreaths.

It could be worse.
(ladyintheradiator, Fri 13 Oct 2006, 23:29, Reply)

sleep deprivation
one night during a rather knackered sleep schedule it got to around 5am and i decided sod it i might aswell not bother sleeping. So i watched the sun come up. That day was the day i was due to visit my nan in hospital which was about 20 miles away. So im going down the road and get stuck behind this silly cow in a polo doing around 40 in a 60. see a straight bit of road and the merc behind me flys past, by then i reckoned it was too windy for me to overtake.

A couple of miles later and theres a straight bit so i knock her down from idling 5th into third. The thing is, a 1.4 mk3 astra isnt the best overtaking vessel, and in hindsight 2nd would have been a better choice. Just as im doing about 55 and level with her door i see a bin lorry coming towards me. I start worrying, then i see the bin men shitting it in the cab, by this time im level with her. i know im not going to make it. cue a 55mph emergency stop, and the first and only time ive ever managed to lock the wheels. I cut in about a foot behind the slowcoach in a polo. Can you smell it? i was sitting in it.

Anyway, she pulls over and lets me past at the next oppurtunity. I love when you scare people into doing that.

Yeah i was in the wrong, but she shouldnt have been driving so slow.

Girth greater than length. Why does the 'greater than' mathematical symbol chop posts?
( Slippery Mick ‏, Fri 13 Oct 2006, 23:24, Reply)

Biker Rage
A long time ago in a home town far far away...
I was walking up the high street with an old friend, Martin. Martin was and still is a teriffic bloke with all the common sense of an earthworm.
Two of the local Granite pass on a good size bike at a fair old rate, both in full leathers and helmets.
Martin, bless him, decided to shout, "You fucking WANKERS!!" after them. Not exactly rage but close.
And of course... they stopped. The driver had barely stopped the engine before he was tearng off after my friend, who didn't like both the size and lengh and ran faster than I'd thought possible.
The pilion walked up to me (I was too scared/too stupid/laughing too hard to run) and asked who was the fucking wanker. With a smile. We both knew.
Cue 5 min of very very funny conversation with the (second) hardest bloke in town who couldn't believe my mate had "Just committed suicide".
Made me laugh! My mate managed to out run the driver, just as well; a nasty bit of work (and to be honest, he is a fucking wanker).
(DustyD, Fri 13 Oct 2006, 23:00, Reply)

People who use disabled spaces
A friend of a friend uses a wheelchair, and as such, is fairly entitled to park in spaces reserved for disabled drivers.

These spaces often have a hatched section attached. For those too dumb to realise it, this is so that the driver has space to get out of the car and into a wheelchair.

So this girl was shopping at a supermarket, and came out to find some idiot had squeezed into the hatched section IN BETWEEN TWO CARS.

She went into the store and had the car registration number read out on the tannoy several times, to no avail.

She eventually had to sit beside her car for 20 minutes waiting for the stupid woman to come back.

When said idiot returned, my friend's friend was remarkably polite, but pointed out the problem.

And get this..... idiot driver cursed and swore and said disabled people shouldn't be allowed to drive anyway because it wasn't safe!!
(Eldred, Fri 13 Oct 2006, 22:52, Reply)

HGV Fat Thick as pig shit bastards
During this summer, my girlfriends sister was visiting the UK from Australia for the first time, so we showed her the local sites,(Stonehenge etc)
On the way back in our Micra 1.0 (the gutless wonder) i tried to over take a HGV going rather slow
the utter bastard sped up and i went head on with a BMW
so with him behind me and going up a fucking steep hill
i put on the hazard warning lights and slowed down to a stop
the sound of air brakes behind me made my day as i sped (well nearly) off and he hill started up this bastard of a hill
eventually he caught up after 20 mins
though i think he was not that happy
due to his flashing lights, blasting horn and fat faced swearing barrage
how i laughed
oh and if your out there my driver
your a cunt
(flashbackjack, Fri 13 Oct 2006, 22:42, Reply)

American Advice: Just Flip Them The Bird
Road rage? Happens all the time!

Pulling out of a deserted McDonald's parking lot late at night in my VW Bug, my friend and I flipped the bird to some cowboys in a jacked-up pickup truck who were trying to pull into the same parking lot. Aroused, they chased us all over the nearby empty roads, eventually ramming our vehicle before fleeing. When I reported their license plate number to the police, the cop 'inadvertently' released their home address. I spent the next month fruitlessly stalking their neighborhood waiting for the truck to return home (frickin' cowboys probably raping cows at night instead).

Then there was the time I flipped the bird to some exasperated jerk who honked and pulled in front of me, thinking I was taking too long to turn onto a major street. Instead of driving off, that incensed jerk peeled right around, stomped up to my driver's window, and quietly asked "Would you please roll down your window?" I quietly replied, "no."

Then once, I was on foot, on the sidewalk, walking across a hamburger restaurant drive-up window, when some university student 'scholars' loudly honked right in my ear - they didn't even notice me, they had seen some friends across the street. Bastards! So I flipped them the bird, and they noticed me after all. They came peeling out of the driveway, and we had a standoff in the street, in front of dozens of potential witnesses: me the matador, and they the stupid bull. I egged them on to make good their threats to attack and they burnt rubber with their hollow threats to do so. Pedestrians are more agile than cars in close quarters. Stupid university students!

Wanna meet your fellow motorists? Just flip them the bird!
(Perv With A Dog had his eyes pecked out by scrub jays on, Fri 13 Oct 2006, 22:03, Reply)

My accident.
My dad, being an ex-squaddie with a screw loose, has always had a certain devil-may-care attitude towards health and safety. This has not only affected his own life - numerous accidents, altercations, extreme sports, and so on - but also those of his children. Basically, my sister and myself were always encouraged, from an early age, to take part in dangerous activities - and on some occasions forced to - in the belief that we shouldn't miss out on potential experiences that we might not have the chance to do again. In a way this was a good thing, as it's given me real confidence to take on challenges that do scare off saner people, but it's also resulted in more than a few dodgy experiences.

A case in point (and, thankfully, relevant to the QOTW) was when I was being taught to ride a bike. I had happily been riding one with training wheels for a couple of weeks and was more than content with my progress. However, things changed with my 5th birthday, when I was presented with a brand-new, shiny BMX - without training wheels. I was also given full pads and a helmet, and informed that I had better learn to ride the bike quick as I had been entered in a race in 3 weeks' time.

I did learn, but my performance in the race was, unsurprisingly, below par, given that the track had bloody huge jumps and I could barely get up a kerb at that point. Extra tuition was clearly in order, so my Dad decided that we would ride to his work to pick up his wages. I was fully kitted up in helmet, elbow and knee pads, and off we went.

His work was about two miles away, up a big hill, and we went on the roads all the way, which I'd never done before. We got there without relative incident, although I was absolutely petrified the whole way. Trouble arrived on the way back, going down the hill. I was told to put my left arm out as we would be turning that way shortly. I did so but, thinking I was going too fast, pressed the right brake.

The front brake.

It's a steep hill.

Cue me catapaulting over the handlebars and landing in the middle of the road. I, in pain, started crying, and then started screaming when a passing motorbike drove over my head, ripping off most of my face.

Dad dragged me to the side of the road and checked that I was still alive. Surprisingly enough, I was conscious (helmets do work after all), and so have a vividly clear memory of watching my dad stroll over to the motorcyclist (who was groggily getting to his feet) and kicking the living shit out of him for running over his son. Bit harsh really - five-year olds lying in the middle of the road aren't a conventional safety hazard. The carnage was only stopped when some passing firemen saw what was going on and intervened.

My mum's main criticism about the incident is centred on the motorcyclist, who didn't even come and visit me in hospital. I reckon I wouldn't have bothered either...

I recovered fine, by the way. Kids heal pretty good - didn't even get any scars.
(silencer, Fri 13 Oct 2006, 21:58, Reply)

You are not on telly
I have a hatred of fat, middle aged taxi drivers, who just because they have a bluetooth earpiece on, seem to think they are all futuristic, and can drive as though they are starring in Mission Impossible or Spooks - stopping dead without indicating or any form of warning, fast u turns as though they have the right of way etc, and then look daggers at you if you inform them they are Two Hats.
In reality they probably have the bluetooths on so they can talk to the voices in their heads without looking too unusual.
Do they not realise that Tom Cruise wouldn't drive around in a pair of £3 Tesco Value Jeans?

Makes me want to join the police, just so i could give them a good Tazering, on suspicion of looking like a Cnut.
(turtles head is touching cloth poked a dwarf on the forehead at, Fri 13 Oct 2006, 20:31, Reply)

Mobile phone
Maybe not quite road rage but ...

If the phone rings you have to stop don't you - doesn't matter where though !

so ...

woman in car on bus stop, on phone, on Watford one way system ring road(you don't want to be there). Bus behind her with driver's hand on horn continuously ...

5 seconds ...
10 seconds ...
15 seconds ...
etc ..

Still she ignores him ...

Deaf? Maybe she has a braille phone !!!


Personally I would have nudged her out into the traffic!

Width? - the ring road doesn't have it.
(lozzzz, Fri 13 Oct 2006, 20:30, Reply)

The daily commute
Can't complain too much about it, it's about 10-15 mins long. But half of it's through (single-lane) country lanes that everyone else seems to use as a shortcut and bombs through far too fast (I'm allowed to drive them regularly as I live in the middle of them and have done for most of my life, so I don't ahve a choice in the matter, I'm not being (unnecessarily) self-righteous...besides, I don't drive through them like I'm in a rally)

Anyway, driving home as usual, not going any faster than 20mph due to lots of blind corners and very few passing spaces, I beep my horn a couple of times approaching one of the nasty corners to be greeted by a builders truck slamming its brakes on and screeching a good 2-3 car lengths before stopping about 6 inches off my front bumper.

I, keeping my cool quite well I think, mouth the words "SLOW DOWN" very deliberately at the driver as I reverse back to let him pass.
He responds by stopping alongside me, leaning out of his window and proclaiming:
"GO FUCK YER MUTHA!" in a thick welsh accent.

Kinda stunned by this mental image for a second, my brain trying to juggle that and the fact that "surely he realises he was in the wrong for driving so fast?", the best I could come up with was
"Whuh?"

He then responds with "I'll rip your fuckin 'ed off!"
Realising that whatever his problem is, talking to him calmly and reasoning with him that he may want to drive more carefully in the future may not work out too well for my health so I left things there and drove away.

Other times people have actually got out of their car (after I've driven past) and then stood in the road gesturing for a fight, a very sensible thing to do on a blind corner...

I despair at times, I really do. (Of course, if I have to reverse back to let any of these dicks get past I tend to do it i-n-c-r-e-d-i-b-l-y c-a-r-e-f-u-l-l-y a-n-d s-l-o-w-l-y just to piss em off...esp if they've just passed a space and are refusing to reverse themselves)
( GigerPunk has, hopefully, slept since, Fri 13 Oct 2006, 18:59, Reply)

Ped crossing & cat food
I was a student & thats why I had a cat: it was morrissey time....
it was in portsmuff, I'd been to the co-op in fratton road and bought skin, er papers, wine & cat food for the cat, I was heading for the ped. crossing when I saw a F'n truck hurtling toward it, so I broke into an unaccustommed jog, just to get there first, when a tin of cat food fell out of my book bag, it rolled onto the crossing and I had to leave it.
I turned round, to see this woman on a bike with a kid on the back, the truck still hurtling ran over the tin and it exploded! all over the kid!
I offered me handkerchief (morrissey time ok-I've got past it-no more cardigans) and she told me to Fuck off hadn't I done enough damage?
whilst kit-e-kat dribbled off those angelic tear stained cheeks....i made me escape
(mickturate if i could be arsed i'd be bored, Fri 13 Oct 2006, 18:56, Reply)

field rage
not me but my dad....

my dad was a practicing vet, looking after various farm animals

i dont know whether my dad cut him up or something, but the bull decided that something was awry, and that the car door would look better when lying on the ground, so the damn thing put it there

girth of a bull
( wjh31, Fri 13 Oct 2006, 18:55, Reply)

why is it
when you are lost and use a road/junction to turn around in, the car behind you ALLWAYS follows you so you got to pig about and have to make your turnaround in another road!.

My point in case. I made a wrong turn near crystal pallace. I reversed about 50 yards up the road making daring manouvers around cars, impressing my dad and bro, and reversed into a driveway that had gates up. Bugger me if when i got there, a car was then turning straight towards me wanting to get in. ARRGGG bastarrrd! He didnt have to read my lips, he definately heard me.
And this was the time of the fuel strikes. Dont get me started on the pump fights!
(i AM that masked man Book him Tonto, Fri 13 Oct 2006, 18:41, Reply)

Spar road rage
When I was living with my parents, one morning I kindly offered to give me mum a lift to her workplace (which is a school). As we leave the estate, shes asks me to nip into Spar down the road as it's her turn to supply the cakes for break. The fucking bunch of dobbers.
So I'm driving down to the first main junction, which is just to the right of a traffic light junction and Spar on the other side. I look right, left, then right and edge out slightly. As I do this, I notice a guy in a small red fiat going flat out towards me from my right. I stop well early to avoid any kind of accident, but the driver in the car exaggerates my early mistake and swerves out WIDE right into the oncoming traffic. Thankfully there was nothing coming, and the driver swerves into a parking space just before the lights. I turn left and go through the lights, then park up at Spar as me mum gets out and goes in cake-hunting. The dobber.

As I'm sitting there, this red fiat pulls up besides me, and I'm greeted with this inbreed who is covered in tobacco and screaming at me. I told him I'd stopped well early (about 4 seconds before he reached me actually) and he'd blatently over-reacted . He went mental, screaming at me...so I calmly started sliding me arm around the back of my seat to grab the steering lock. Just then he said that I could've killed his child? I look in the back of his car and his wife (or mum, she was that fucking ugly I couldn't tell) was sitting on the back seat holding her baby. She was shouting saying I could've killed the baby in this very highly pitched voice. You know, fuck the baby-seat laws 'n all, lets just class the baby as mutant hand-luggage.
I decided me mam was coming out soon so I rather patronisngly said in a monotome "Sorry, sorry sir, sorry etc sorry" (I said etc too just to piss him off) until he got bored and drove off. Me mam walks out of Spar just at that moment and gives me a cake.

Great, thanks mam, now I'm a dobber too.
( Jeccius Steam Borderlands 2 junkie, Fri 13 Oct 2006, 18:30, Reply)

In 2001, I got a phone call from my then girlfriend
"I really need to see you, I want to rip the clothes from your fucking body. Get here NOW"
I grabbed a towel, rammed it into my bag and dashed to her house.
She was living in Birmingham, and I was in Portsmouth.

I wanted to catch a train, which means changing at Southampton. However, they couldnt get to Southampton main and I end up at some godforsaken out of town provincial train station, with one other bloke, eagerly looking for a taxi when a DHL van drives past. The other bloke flags him down, throws 100 notes through the window and says "I need to be at southampton airport NOW!"
"Is your mate coming too?" asks the driver, looking at me. "Fuck yeah!" I shout (as the airport has a train station too, where I can get my connection to Birmingham.)

"You'll have to climb in the back," says the driver, so I yank open the side panel and dive in, landing on the deck and propping myself up with poster tubes.

It's not a long drive, but that DHL driver earned his money by pulling off more than one handbrake turn in a full-wheelbase Mercedes Sprinter. I was thrown around in the back like a 6-year olds corpse in the back of a paedophile's Volvo. Best free ride of my life, and for anyone who got a package marked Fragile that had visible bumcheek patterns on it, I'm very sorry but I got some really good sex after that trip, so your broken Derby china figurine was a small price to pay.
( Grrrmachine the indifference engine, Fri 13 Oct 2006, 18:29, Reply)

I've driven on the M25 once
far too much rage for my liking. Never again.
( Jeccius Steam Borderlands 2 junkie, Fri 13 Oct 2006, 18:13, Reply)

I hate people who drink drive

just last week right near my house a little boy died because of the selfish bastards.

Well, I got so mad thinking about drink drivers that I beat him to death, but still.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Fri 13 Oct 2006, 18:12, Reply)

west yorkshire
Bradford might not be so bad once they've nuked it and started again. The real horror is Chain Bar roundabout and the other one down the road from Ikea. 3 lane roads running into 2 lanes on the roundabout? Whose bright idea was that then?
(hypostomus, Fri 13 Oct 2006, 18:08, Reply)

bikes
the other week i was going along a road in cambridge, anyone living there will testify the number of bloody cyclists there, all going at snails pace.

anyway, this woman on a bike had her two kids in tow in a trailer, she cut straight across me, had i not slammed on the brakes i would have gone straight into her, but i did so instead i went straight over her kids and wrecked her trailer thing.

afterwards the mother accused me of speeding, which im certain i wasnt, it was practicly impossible for me to have been speeding, i was on a fucking bike.

thats why im so glad i hit her kids, they were so soft to land on that despite the fact i was going full pelt when i hit them i didnt even have any grazes anywhere, and the government says child obesity is bad for us...

oh and dont worry, my bike was fine too

the only reason i didnt stop to have a go at her for pulling out infront of me, and then having the nerve to accuse me of speeding on a bike was cus her kids were making such a bloody racket i just wanted to get out of there, so fortunately she told me she was ok with me leaving after a few minuites, so i guess this is kinda post-road-rage.

but now, i just laugh at the thought of how much fun she must of had trying to get her kids to go out with her on the bike the next day

and if theres one thing worse than other bikes, its fucking busses, cus a few days later one hit my girlfriend, and she died




i mean lived, fucking sucks tho, she's out of action till her wounds heal


length? girth? is that a carbon nano-tube in your pocket.....
( wjh31, Fri 13 Oct 2006, 18:07, Reply)

the worst city
bradford

what's a no entry sign mean? what is a one way system? how do indicators work?

don't go there. ever.
(moppymopmop makes your bum tingle, Fri 13 Oct 2006, 17:56, Reply)

Best served cold.
I used to get a bit road-ragey at times but had a few dodgy incidents so keep it in check now. Mostly.

Last time I felt like that, instead of shouting at the other bloke I turned the car round and followed him home at a discreet distance. I waited until he parked up and went inside.

Then I got a big dog turd and stuffed it under his car door handle.
.
(Ali Bongo 9000 Ali Bongo 9000, Fri 13 Oct 2006, 17:48, Reply)

Seeing Red
Not road rage exactly but it does involve cars and death.

My flatmate is a driving instructor and one day he teaching a posh lass who was a little useless. As the were travelling down a country lane a red squirrel ran into the middlle of the road.

*thump-thump*

"Oh my God! Did you see that? Did I hit it?"

"Squashed it flat!" says my mate.

"But..But.. It was a RED squirrel. Are they endangered?" splutters girl

"They bloody are now" grins Andy....


He now refers to her as The Northumberland Squirrel Squasher.

Cheers
( Legless Mister Stabby - shanks for the memory, Fri 13 Oct 2006, 17:37, Reply)

The truck in front is MINE, fuckers!
First off: all HGVs are limited by law to 40 mph on single carriageways.

The firm I drive for track our speed, so on a single, 40 is what we do. Tough if you're in a hurry, but life's like that. Some people don't know this though, and get really wound up.

I get to my destination one day, 12 miles at the end of a single carriageway, go straight to the unloading area and park. Just as I get inside, there's an almighty racket from outside.

"FUCKING CUNT, I'LL KILL HIM, I'LL KILL HIM, I'LL KILL HIM...." and so forth. Outside security is wrestling with a middleaged rep-style person, whose Beemer (how did you guess?) is trapped by the partially closed yard gate. I go over, not wanting to miss the fun. Now he really kicks off. Shout to security: "get him off the cameras". We drag him away from the gate camera, and restrain him vigorously.

Turns out he'd been behind me all the way. Also turns out that he had a Stanley in his hand when security jumped him...

No charges on either side, but a few less teeth on his.
(all my scars face forward possesses 2.5% of a hyperalloy combat chassis, Fri 13 Oct 2006, 17:29, Reply)

Red (mist) Driving School
This year, at the grand old age of thirty-two, I decided it was high time I learned to drive. So there I was this summer, pootling around in a gaily emblazoned Red driving school Vauxhall Corsa with one of those big spacky "L" triangles on the top. I used to get a bit confused at crossroads as to who had right of way and had started trundling right when I should have been waiting for a gap in the traffic approaching from the left. Driving instructor calmly applies the dual-control brake, leaving me sitting harmlessly yet stupidly in the middle of the crossroads.

Large estate car passes and blasts its horn unnecessarily. Its windows are down, and there is a twentysomething woman in the back, shaking her head pityingly at me. "Bloody learners," she sneers.

Before I knew what I was doing, my right arm shot out of the driver's window with middle finger proudly extended and I bellowed, "Fuck you - you CUNT". Her face was satisfyingly aghast.

"Please don't do that on your test," my instructor said quietly.

I might as well have done. I still haven't frigging passed it.
( weebear1974 discovering the joy of cat rape since, Fri 13 Oct 2006, 17:02, Reply)