Not Funny Warning....... NOW!
I had a mate called Barry a few years back who went thru the coppers academy and upon passing with honours chose to return to his small, country hometown to join the local station. At that time they made cops (& teachers) do a compulsory 2 year stint in the country after getting their degrees/qualifications. One of the reasons I haven't finished my BEd. (aside from being bone-idle lazy).

Anyhoo Barry returns home and spends the next couple of years telling the local pot-heads to tie their plants down so you couldn't see them over the fence, making sure the local perv, Larry was tucked into bed nice and early each night and wasn't ever trying to drive the school bus. Barry also spent many a Fri. & Sat. night making sure that the old farts at the pub hadn't had 1 too many and weren't going to wrap themselves around one of the widow-maker Ghost Gums on the drive home.

Barry managed to find time to catch the eye of one of the local lasses, Sharon. She was a pretty young thing who rooted like the cam on an old Southern Cross in a cyclone! She lived a couple of kays out of town with her mum and dad - Garry & Mary and her older brother Darren. Barry and Darren were coached on the local footy team (The Drongos) by Garry. Barry & Sharon had even reached the point of "Wanna become the ball & chain, darlin'?". Barry was going to have a chinwag with Garry after the end of the footy season about it.

It was the Sat. night after the Grand Final where the Drongos had successfully defeated the neighbouring towns' team - The Bunyips in a close game.
Barry had met Darren and Garry at the pub a couple of hours after the game. He got a few in but since he was on early the next day he didn't want to stagger home. Garry and Darren and the rest of the town had other ideas altogether. The landlord called an open bar after 2230 just for the regulars who had played that arvo & their supporters.
Barry had noticed that Darren and Garry had knocked quite a few back and were a little the worse for wear. He suggested that he drive them home. Darren came back with "Nah, fuck off mate you just want an excuse to root Sharon. I'm right." Barry didn't want to argue with Darren and at this stage of their relationship and that night he didn't want to pull the "I'm a copper" card.
When Barry went to the loo to siphon the python both Garry and Darren realised that their mate/soon-to-be-son/brother-in-law wasn't going to let them off the hook so easily so they decided to get on the toe and hit the frog and toad.
They poured out of the pub and clumsily clambered into Garry's old Rollux ute. & off they went at a merry pace. A couple of hundred yards down the track they came across Larry on 1 of his nightly sojourns to have a gander thru some open windows. Darren chucked on the skids. But to no avail - the Toyota with it's infamously high centre of gravity immediately rolled instantly killing Larry, Darren and Garry.
Barry heard the commotion as he emerged from the dunnies and ran outside to find the carnage. The whole pub emptied quicker than a tourists bowels when they've got the Bali Trots.

So there it was - Baz had to drive out to the farm to tell Shaz and Maz that Daz and Gaz had been killed trying to avoid Laz.
(Misery McUglywife an attention seeking sociopathic fuckstain., Fri 11 Jan 2013, 5:39, 10 replies)

funnily enough, it was a BO of staggering proportions
and I naturally waited until I lost my temper and said "frank, you fucking stink mate! shit!! have a shower, get some deoderant or something!!"

turns out he showered 'every day' and didn't agree with deodorant...

so I likened him to farting constantly all day long, and asked if he could stop it. it was fierce. he had a 5m radius around him that smelt like rotten pickled onions, and it was a hot summer in London with 20 people and 20 pcs and no aircon in a tiny room...

it did work, although these days I'd be more tactful and less "You fucking wreak mate, it's making us feel sick!" :)
( lustreboy making himself laugh since 1973 (tm), Fri 11 Jan 2013, 2:24, 3 replies)

That third "Candyman".

(Misery McUglywife an attention seeking sociopathic fuckstain., Fri 11 Jan 2013, 1:59, Reply)

I went to a catholic primary school. There were some Polish kids there.

( 4Q just lurking, Fri 11 Jan 2013, 1:10, 1 reply)

She said...
"You're my favourite chubby bloke. Don't bother what they say.."

I lost 3 stone over the following 5 months.
(Carpe Cyprinidae, Thu 10 Jan 2013, 23:50, Reply)

conversation at work today about "that" word...
in an open plan office, me and a colleague were discussing why the word cunt is considered more offensive than any of the other words which mean the same thing (twat/pussy/vagina/pudenda and so on)

my colleague happens to be an English Lit graduate, who has read the fine works of Chaucer (which contains liberal sprinklings of the word!) and I discovered that there are many instances where the word used to be part of acceptable language and for some reason has become known as the "C-Bomb" but we still don't know why exactly....

but it was quite liberating to have a chat about said word, in an open plan office and we are still employed!! No idea how!!!
(Anne Frank started to build a loft conversion on, Thu 10 Jan 2013, 22:08, 9 replies)

In my last job, I worked with a bloke with horrific halitosis
My colleagues whinged for ages about it, but they didn't like him anyway, so I took their comments with a pinch of salt. Until a desk-move meant he sat next to me.
He was fine while we both sat facing our respective computer screens, but when he turned to ask me a question I'd get hit by a wall of stench, a mixture of off milk and battery acid. it was genuinely eye-watering.
After a while, I could stand it no more so one day I leant over to him, and very quietly said
'Mate, I don't to be horrible, but your breath really mings' and gave him an apologetic smile. He winced and said something about a tooth infection or something, and we went back to work.
From that day on, he brushed his teeth a few times a day at work, and everyone liked him a little bit better.
I appreciate this isn't particularly funny, but it just goes to show, sometimes a direct approach works.
( mictoboy shitting in your cunt since, Thu 10 Jan 2013, 21:50, 1 reply)

Keeping the big dog
I took a liking to a fellow physics student. He resembled the Scarecrow from Wizard of Oz. He suggested a study session. I agreed, so late one afternoon, I approached the front door of his house.

I knocked on the door. The door wasn't latched, however, and I inadvertently knocked the door ajar. Down the hallway, an enormous Great Dane turned towards me in surprise. I gasped with fear as the ginormous canine loped down the hall straight towards me.

To my surprise, there was no dog attack. He simply pushed by me, ran down the street, ran around the corner, and vanished. Also to my surprise, there was no one home. I belatedly pursued the dog, but he had disappeared.

It was with chagrin that I later informed my new friend. He took the news with stoic calm. It was just another episode in his tedious hobby of chasing the Damned Dog all over the Damned Neighborhood.
(Perv With A Dog had his eyes pecked out by scrub jays on, Thu 10 Jan 2013, 21:50, 2 replies)

you're all dreadful pricks

( 2 Can Chunder Word to your mums, I came to prod bums, Thu 10 Jan 2013, 21:46, 15 replies)

Yes
Size does matter.
(f_rev, Thu 10 Jan 2013, 21:18, 3 replies)

You
don't sweat much for a fat bird.
( social hand grenade I was a lurker before you were a lurker, Thu 10 Jan 2013, 21:02, 1 reply)

BO *and* wrinkled shirts
I used to work as a trainer in a large technical support call centre in Nottingham. A good part of my job was training new staff in both computer tech support and customer service and telephone skills. 

One Monday I had just such a new intake, one of whom was a man in his 40s, a large chap. To call him disheveled would be an understatement; his shirt looked as though it had been taken out of the washer and allowed to dry out in a crumpled heap. I made a note to have a word with him about the company's dress code at the first break, and took him on one side to give him a dressing down. So to speak.

It was only then that I realised the seriousness of the problem. He had clearly been living in the same clothes for weeks. His trousers were also wrinkly, and to be honest, he stank. I pointed out that for reasons of antisocial lack of hygiene and violation of the dress code, I was sending him home to shower and change.

The odd thing was that he did not see any problem with wearing disgusting clothes and not bathing.

Length? Several years. When I left to move to California, he still worked there, and was as clueless at the end as he was at the start.
(wertperch is losing his hair, marbles and patience., Thu 10 Jan 2013, 20:53, 4 replies)

,like
(TheManWithThePlan cussed your mum on, Thu 10 Jan 2013, 20:10, 4 replies)

On Monday
I told one of the girls at work that Harry Styles and Taylor Swift were an item.

On Tuesday I had to break it to her that they had just split up.
(rogerzilla, Thu 10 Jan 2013, 19:44, 1 reply)

In a fairly cowardly way,
When people I don't like try to add me on Facebook, I passively refuse to click 'Allow'.

I don't like you, I don't want to be your friend, I'm not sure quite why you thought we could be online friends when it was obvious we weren't going to be 'real' buddies.

Look on the bright side it might just be that I find you insufferably boring, not because I also consider you needy, mental or just fundamentally evil (EDIT) or you're just adding me so you can wilfully troll me because you reckon I just click every friend application without looking or considering and trolling is what thou wilt.

But still....get the message, huh?

EDIT I should possibly get pro-active and send them a message back saying 'LOOK JUST FUCK OFF' but I'm not a good judge of who will just wander off and bother someone else, and who will form a whole deadly revenge strategy including kidnap, organ removal, torture dungeon etc.

I will quite happily wait for them to find someone else to bother by pretending not to be home.
( Rotating Wobbly Hat That's not a banana. THIS is a banana., Thu 10 Jan 2013, 19:18, 6 replies)

I know a bloke with a terrible stutter.
He's had to be banned from karaoke nights down the pub after he attempted a song written by Claude 'Curly' Putman Jr that was later a number one hit by Tom Jones.
( Amorous Badger NAKED BEA ARTHUR PHOTOS 4U, Thu 10 Jan 2013, 19:10, 11 replies)

I've had quite a few occasions to say potentially difficult things to colleagues.
Unfortunately I don't suffer from crippling social feebleness so they've always passed without incident.
( Dr. Shambolic je suis charlie, Thu 10 Jan 2013, 18:59, 8 replies)

"cs1ca, can I ask you something?"
"Wassat, Shivs?"
"Well, Tony's just called me into his office and told me that my sheer skintight little dress isn't appropriate clothing for an office. You don't think it's too bad, do you?"
"I'm not saying it's completely transparent or anything, but when the sun's at the right angle we can all see that you've had kids"

*ducks flying stapler*
(cs1ca, Thu 10 Jan 2013, 18:04, Reply)

Rather the oposite
In an very small office once filled with ladies I was subjected to what could only be called radiators set to maximum and no choice of opening a window. It was roasting and despite asking for them to turn it down or open a window the temp remained a cozy 28, just right for working in.

Three days of wearing the same shirt (I fucking stank!) and I was pulled aside by a manager. and polity informed of some complaints. I said I sorry, I know, It is so embarrassing. I can't help it, I've tried everything. It's just too hot for me.

Passive protest works! Radiators down and moved to window which I could cracked open a tad.
I'm right smart me. It would have taken months of complaining and all sorts of "formal" processes other wise.
(waxdart hello., Thu 10 Jan 2013, 18:01, 1 reply)

So I go to the pub with my mate, and it's my round.
The barmaid has MASSIVE norks, and when she comes over I say "Alright, love - two pints of Bristols please BITTER! Two pints of BITTER, please" as I take a scowl that would curdle Simon Cowell's porridge.

I get the beers, and go over to my mate, telling him this embarrassing story.

"Don't worry" he says, "It's just a Freudian Slip - it's when you accidentally say what's on your mind, instead of what you mean. For example, this morning at breakfast with my wife, I meant to say 'Can you pass the TOAST, please?', and instead I accidentally said 'Thanks for fucking up my entire life you ugly bitch!'"
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Thu 10 Jan 2013, 17:32, 8 replies)

( 4Q just lurking, Thu 10 Jan 2013, 17:25, 2 replies)

My boss
told me a tale of a girl in his previous workplace who had terrible BO. She had just started working there, and after about a week almost the entire office and gone to him privately to complain about her stench. As boss it was down to him have a quiet word. She broke down in tears, went home and never came back. She had absolutely no idea.
(TheManWithThePlan cussed your mum on, Thu 10 Jan 2013, 17:19, 3 replies)

Bloke who used I used to work with
ponged a bit, and since I was the only other man in the office and the women all thought it was better coming from me, I was nominated to tell him, so I found a quiet moment.

Me: 'Adam, sorry to say it, but your feet really smell bad.'
Adam: 'I think that's my trousers, actually.'
Me: 'Oh, right. Well your trousers smell bad then.'
Adam: 'Well they would, I've been wearing them for about a month.'
Me: 'Would you consider changing them, then?'
Adam: 'Alright. I'll wear a fresh pair tomorrow.'
Me: 'OK, good. Because people have noticed and there's been a few complaints from the girls. And it is fair enough, to be honest.'
Adam: 'I don't really care what the girls think. Some of them are quite bitchy.'
Me: 'In what way?'
Adam: 'They keep saying I smell.'

FFS
(SnowyTheWereRabbit the Leporid from Hell, Thu 10 Jan 2013, 16:50, 6 replies)

Nasal neighbour.
The woman who moved in next door to us recently snores, it's a semi-detached house and we can hear it through the wall. If she's started before I fall asleep I can't sleep and if I wake up in the middle of the night I'm stuffed. We've spent a month deciding the most tactful way of telling her, we considered wrapping up some breathe right nasal strips as a Christmas present. Instead we've just decided to move house and handed our notice in this week. Turns out it was unsayable.
( JebediahSpringfield, Thu 10 Jan 2013, 16:41, 1 reply)

"you dance really well for a fat person"
I thought it was a compliment at the time, but I was high as a kite.
(CADmonkey rollllllllled another one, just like the other one, Thu 10 Jan 2013, 16:25, 1 reply)

OK - I'll start:
Moons ago I was in a band. We were the usual collection of 20- and 30-somethings with ideas of grandeur, talent and creativity above our station; it was brilliant fun and I'd do it again at the drop of a hat.

We recorded a demo at personal expense, and one evening before a gig, were sitting in a pub with friends, discussing the new demo and what do with it; who to send it to and how.

Suddenly my mate clicks his finger excitedly - the table stops:

"I know!" he said triumphantly, "You want to send it to Jo Wiley on XFM - she'll play any old shit!"

Silence.

Cheers, mate.

Sensing what he'd done, he rallied with "No! Erm ... I mean ... " he whined, "I just mean that ... I don't reckon she listens to any of the stuff before she plays it, that's all ... "

We're still friends, mind.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Thu 10 Jan 2013, 16:19, Reply)

I can't say.

( tangledupinblue hairy badge with moving eyes, Thu 10 Jan 2013, 16:12, 1 reply)

Bitch!
yea
( b3tz, Thu 10 Jan 2013, 16:11, Reply)