I remember QotW where the last club
used to go on for several pages, seemed quite popular once.
(ParaSitius is an Optimistic Pessimist, Thu 28 Jun 2012, 13:39, Reply)

At my last meeting of the Last club, Me I'm Not missed out on the presidency only narrowly.

( Amorous Badger NAKED BEA ARTHUR PHOTOS 4U, Thu 28 Jun 2012, 13:38, Reply)

But I wanna be president of Last Club!!!!

(Me, I'm not... in any way intoxicated, Thu 28 Jun 2012, 13:16, Reply)

I heard that the Last club is no more.
That's a shame.
( Amorous Badger NAKED BEA ARTHUR PHOTOS 4U, Thu 28 Jun 2012, 13:04, Reply)

Whatever happened to the Last club?
Last.
(ParaSitius is an Optimistic Pessimist, Thu 28 Jun 2012, 12:35, Reply)

Looks like yer typical B3tan is not one of life's "joiners".

That means we are either rugged individualists, or socially inept misfits.

[looks in mirror] ....bugger.
(moon monkey is busy making memories worth repressing, Thu 28 Jun 2012, 11:13, 3 replies)

I've just joined the 'They Should Close QOTW Club'

(Quintno EXPERIMENT RUINED CANCELLED, LEFT 4EVER, Thu 28 Jun 2012, 11:12, 2 replies)

CLUBS...
Cubs. Was never abused, went on cool trips, did interesting things.
Scouts. Also fun, still no abuse. Got really boring.
Football. A career spanning around 8 years with only 1 trophy 'Sportsmanship'
PIAsoc. Politics and International Affairs society, became President and ran it and all was well
Book Club. (Secondary school) read books, ate cadburys chocolate fingers and drank fizzy pop
Cricket club. Wasn't played enough so couldn't improve my game enough to retain my position on tugs team. And we had a guy who played junior county level.
(saint_edward, Thu 28 Jun 2012, 10:33, 4 replies)

i think my new
shape fits in here... I introduce, the 'cubulated isosceles'
(saint_edward, Thu 28 Jun 2012, 10:19, Reply)

Nearly there.
Couple of hours . . .
(username failed moderation, Thu 28 Jun 2012, 9:49, 7 replies)

grama
I,m in a club which deliberately uses bad grammar posting on certain websites to solicit responses from people who have fuck all better to do. You know who yo are.
do your best,that is all.
(andycrass loves two hats on, Thu 28 Jun 2012, 1:17, 2 replies)

Hellooooooooo Buglerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrs
Any other Bugle fans out there? I discovered it soon after the Timesonline era, back in February, and I'm currently ploughing through the back catalogue.

I've just re-witnessed the inauguration of Barak Obama and the G20 'riots' in London.

thebuglepodcast.com/
(Che Grimsdale Best before:, Wed 27 Jun 2012, 17:13, 14 replies)

My late entry
I joined the NAACP. I'm white, live in the south(US), and did it because of peer pressure. I'm somewhat active, as I'll show up for. Adios events and activities. A few people gawk and stare and I even had one nice black lady threaten me. The only thing I get vocal about though, is political correctness, as it's a load of hooey. They always argue with me about it, and it ends whenever I ask what a black man from London is called. The replies vary, but the answer is always Lawrence, but his friends call him Larry.

Sorry for lack of funnies, it's been a rough week.
(CactusZack Shaved his coin purse on, Wed 27 Jun 2012, 15:35, 14 replies)

Anyone want to join my club?
The club for people that find it impossible not to check out the QOTW every week, even though we KNOW that the chances of it being any good are remote, or that anyone has anything new to say - least of all you - but because hope springs eternal and it remains a way to escape the hell of work for a few minutes.
(Che Grimsdale Best before:, Wed 27 Jun 2012, 14:41, 4 replies)

The SNP - oh very nice; very trendy, very right-on.
You have a little ambition and join the BNP and ohhhh no.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Wed 27 Jun 2012, 14:40, Reply)

I want to join the professional society for cosmetic surgery practitioners, here in the UK
... simply because it's called the British Association of Plastic Surgeons

-- or BAPS, for short.

I'd love to have the job of designing the society logo, too.
(moon monkey is busy making memories worth repressing, Wed 27 Jun 2012, 11:27, 7 replies)

The Yorkshire/Italian Squirrel Exterminators
As I have mentioned a number of times before I work for a company who has an office in a refurbed manor house and near a nice secluded bit of woodland. I have also mentioned that the woods have a number of squirrels in them (See my last post here where one tricked me into falling into the mud).

Anywhoo enough backstory. I returned from my holidays to find the place in a strange mood.the Italian boss of mine was looking rather jumpy and would keep checking the windows while the other manager was looking more cheerful than usual.

I made a mental note to find out what I had missed and settled down for a few minutes work and maybe the occasional lurk on B3ta when…..WWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIILLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL off went the fire alarm. After peeling myself off the roof I realized that there was something weird as it was the wrong day for the fire alarm test. Before I could do anything else the Italian boss came through whooping with a rifle case under his hand and went off to look for one of the office staff that was next on his rota. I made a mental note to see which would be the best route to contact the police to warn them that a gun toting Italian was shooting his way through lazy staff members and could they send someone before he checked my internet history.

Italian boss seemed to have sensed that there was something wrong with me and got one of my workmates to fill me in on the situation. The squirrels in the local area must have become bored with the wood and decided to spend the first few days of the week sat on the window of Italian Bosses office staring at him. Nothing else just sat there still and staring on the windowsill. Italian Boss is quick to react and after the failure of Plan A (Shout obscenities in both English and Italian at tree rat until you are out of breath) he decided to take a more drastic approach. One squirrel trap, a jar of peanut butter and his own rifle are brought into work and Italian Boss starts plan B, blow the little sods to hell before they move into his office and take over the company.

Day 1: Italian boss manages to catch one and Mr Squirrel is now eating acorns in hell.

Day 2 : Squirrel caught in trap sometime in the morning but the boss is busy and only finds out this in the afternoon.Bang Bang Squirrel kill count 2.

Weekend comes and Italian Boss has to leave the trap empty due to some UK Law about cruelty to animals so boss decides to clean out trap and leave it. Accidentally leaves peanut butter jar outside next to (now closed for weekend) trap.

Someone attempts to break in to our premises at the weekend and nick the IT kit we keep in stock but gets no further than the perimiter fence. Italian boss is the name on the security list and comes down to check premises. He is more pissed off that the squirrels have managed to chew their way through the plastic bottle to get to the peanut butter rather than the small amout of Chav damage done to our fence. Squirrels 1 Italian Boss 2 (Chav sent for community service).

New working week starts and Italian Boss is very busy and decides to get a few people to join him in exterminating the vermin, the people who are in this little club get the chance to fire a rifle at a caged animal(This seemed to appeal to a number of the borderline nutjobs you usually get working in IT) but will also have to check the cage at certain times of the day and inform the building (via fire alarm test) that something has been caught. All of this is done in a very militarised way and my boss has picked up the nickname Mussolini from certain staff members, he also keeps muttering about never letting our guard down (seriously does he think we aregoing to be ambushed and held POW by a crack commando team of squirrels).

I mentioned to my boss that the whole extermination thing may be taking its toll on him and it should be something that a professional exterminator or maybe the handyman we hire should do but I was told that it was something that Italian Boss wanted to see out himself and that my suggestion was weird (but I am allowed to still join if I want to- my guess is I will be forcefully recruited if I refuse). So people of B3ta should I join this little elite club of social misfits or should I hide under my desk and await a fightback from the squirrel army.

Oh and the ones that are shot are (Allegedly) skinned and cooked up by the guy who works here and thinks he is Bear Grylls- the one shot recently is going into a curry- my idea of turning it into a helicopter work of art was shot down immediatley.

Apologies for the length
(mon bison powered by magnets, Wed 27 Jun 2012, 11:11, 3 replies)

Changing sides
My brother-in-law is a legend, for once inviting a Jehovah's Witness in for a chat, and by the end of the evening having the polyester-suited one drinking beer, smoking spliff and listening to rock music.
(moon monkey is busy making memories worth repressing, Wed 27 Jun 2012, 10:42, 2 replies)

I would not wish to belong to a society that would accept me as a member

(thefuckestuppest cheapened this, on, Wed 27 Jun 2012, 9:26, 2 replies)

I joined an ADHD support group
it has really helped me with my afflict ooh shiny thing
(weaselinajetengine, Wed 27 Jun 2012, 1:00, Reply)

JST JND 90S TXTSPK GRP LOL

( drimble he'd been white, he'd been black, Tue 26 Jun 2012, 23:14, 8 replies)

Glasgow Rangers' new owners
Have just heard that Syria has been expelled from the Arab League and are looking into how to apply for their place.
( ousgg is not seeking approval, Tue 26 Jun 2012, 20:34, Reply)

Clwb Ifor Bach.
One of the conditions of joining was that you promised to learn Welsh. I only joined so I could skip the queue for the jungle and techno nights.

I'm like Raffles the Gentleman Thief or something.
(dozers, do fuck off ur a nob m8, Tue 26 Jun 2012, 18:03, Reply)

In which grandmasterfluffles gets into a spot of trouble with Jesus
Where I grew up, the local Baptist Church ran a “Holiday Club” for primary school age children during the first week of the summer holidays.

Now, my parents were atheist Jews, and my spiritual education thus far had been pretty non-existent. My parents had nothing but contempt for religion. However, they were more than willing to put that contempt aside when the church was offering to take their little shit - sorry, adorable seven-year-old - off their hands for a week, even if it was in return for a bit of light indoctrination.

I wasn’t the only Jewish kid at Holiday Club - there was another Jewish girl who lived down my road, whose mum used to send her off each morning with strict instructions to “stick your fingers in your ears whenever they talk about Jesus” - if she’d followed those instructions she’d have had her fingers in her ears all day. And judging by the number of Muslim and Hindu kids there were at this thing, the Jewish community weren’t the only ones relinquishing their spiritual beliefs for a bit of peace and quiet.

Holiday Club was hell. During the morning, we’d have to sit cross-legged on the floor and sing Jesus songs. During the early part of the afternoon, we’d pick an activity to do - sports or arts and crafts. Then after that it was back for more bible stories and Jesus songs.

One day I’d sat through hours of Jesus songs, made a Jesus picture in the art class, and now I was back in the hall for more fucking Jesus. I actually didn’t know who this Jesus dude was, but I was thoroughly pissed off at him. And now this woman at the front was ranting about how Jesus had once turned some water into wine. “Well, bollocks to that,” I thought, “Everybody knows there’s no such thing as magic.” Then Jesus Woman lowered her voice to a tone clearly intended to convey a sense of wonder and excitement. “And now children,” she breathed, “We can recreate that miracle. Here I have a jug of water, and if we pray really hard, it might turn into wine when I pour it into this other jug!”

“Ooooooooh!” breathed 50 seven-year-olds.

“Bollocks,” I thought.

“So everybody pray with me. Dear Lord Jesus, please turn this water into wine. Please show us your wonderful miracle Jesus, Amen.”

She poured the water from one jug to the other, and sure enough, it turned red. Pandemonium ensued. “Whooooooaaahhhhh! It’s turned into wine! It’s a miracle!” Jesus Woman sat there smiling fondly at all of her new converts, sweet innocent angels who’d been shown the love of Jesus and would surely now be saved. Unfortunately, above the cacophony of gasps and squeals, one voice rang out loud and clear: “That’s not wine!” I raged. “You just put red dye in the bottom of the jug!”

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how you get expelled from Jesus Club.

Not really. Oh how I wish I had been expelled. What actually happened was that they told my mum about my little outburst, and everybody at the church was utterly vile to me for the rest of the week. I never did get on with Jesus…
(grandmasterfluffles Come to my Armageddon party on, Tue 26 Jun 2012, 17:38, 21 replies)

gangs
in the eightys I was in a gang that used to get people to chase us round south london
(relayer, Tue 26 Jun 2012, 16:46, 3 replies)

Looks like we have enough candidates to form the "Can't think of a funny story about clubs" club.

er

hang on

no, I've got nothing.
(moon monkey is busy making memories worth repressing, Tue 26 Jun 2012, 16:26, Reply)

I have just started the Imagination Club.
If any of you are interested in joining then all you have to do is imagine that this is the single best response to the QOTW and click the 'I like this' link.

As a reward, you can imagine whatever you like as a reward and imagine that you have received it as part of your membership.
(ParaSitius is an Optimistic Pessimist, Tue 26 Jun 2012, 15:59, Reply)

I've joined the club
of people making a reference about something we are not allowed to talk about.
(ParaSitius is an Optimistic Pessimist, Tue 26 Jun 2012, 15:44, Reply)

the Boys Brigade
kinda boring..

Feed too much bible fiction.... boring
Prayer time.... boring
Soft football in the main hall....boring
can of coke and bag of sweets.... acceptable
having a God person stick his finger up your rectum and keeping it a special secret so you parents don't die.... fun and my parents survived.

thanks God person
(mad_dan Stilton or knob cheese ma'am?, Tue 26 Jun 2012, 15:19, 1 reply)

Domestic violence support group
Since attending meetings last month I've learnt how to beat my wife far more effectively.
(TheManWithThePlan cussed your mum on, Tue 26 Jun 2012, 15:08, 5 replies)