When I was 12
I once said to my younger sister that she had "cancer of the face". I was rather proud of that one. My dad wasn't impressed at overhearing it though, given that his mum had recently died of cancer.
(Seance Trumpet has got no beef with a man enjoying a croissant, Sat 29 Nov 2008, 11:53, Reply)

Lip smackingly good
I was on the bus with a couple of friends, and because it was a long journey, I decided to play the 'in my pants' game. For those not in the know, it is simply where one adds 'in my pants' to the end of each of their sentences. Anyway, it was winter at the time, and I had some pretty dry skin on my face. One of my friends asked why I kept licking my lips, so I very nonchalantly, and a little loudly, responded that I had 'sore lips in my pants'.

Oh yus.
(Aruu does not put all her trust in root vegetables., Sat 29 Nov 2008, 10:45, 1 reply)

I work for my ex-girlfriend's father.
Does that qualify? While I was dating his daughter, sometimes he would say things specifically designed to put me in an awkward or embarrassing situation.

For example, the time when he was talking about human nature, and how the primal urge is to reproduce.

Or the time he said "You know, Grokthought, I was 20 years old, once, too." giving me that knowing glare; the one that says 'I know what you were doing in your car at 2am with my daughter when the police pulled you over in August.'

You know the one.

Things are still pretty cringeworthy now that we've split up, as my boss is now trying to set me up with a ton of other girls. It's not a terrible situation, to be certain, but there is still a factor of uncomfortability involved. Part of me sees him as a boss, part as a friend and part as my ex-girlfriend's father. The ex-girlfriend's father bit really trumps the rest sometimes, as he constantly wants to talk about her to me. I think he either feels sorry for me or regrets that we're no longer together. She gave me mononucleosis then dumped me when the symptoms cleared, led me to falsely believe we would get back together for two months, and is with someone else now. Nice that she could move on to the next poor sod while I've had to wait a few months for the mono to clear.


Also, I have never found anything more true than this.


It's weird when writing these QOTW answers. I'm a writer, but when writing this kind of stuff it seems like I'm trying to butter a piece of Tesco Value bread with the minuscule amount of spread that's left around the base of the tub. With a spoon. I should probably stick to what I know, eh?
( Grokthought wouldn't pay that for Chinese 5-Spice, Sat 29 Nov 2008, 10:03, Reply)

watersports gone wrong
I used to run a soundsystem with my brother and a couple of friends. Breaking into warehouses and airfields to put on free parties and other, heavily drug fueled fun things.

To transport all the (mainly stolen) speakers and amps around we purchased an old police riot van from an auction. This thing was a fucking v8 monster with bullet proof blacked out windows. It could outrun most cars at the lights, but did around 6 miles to the gallon.

For some reason we had a megafone with which we used to drive around Croydon and shout obscenities at old people while hanging out of the vans sliding door.

One day in the shitty little Croydon based village of Addiscombe it rained, and it rained and it rained. A huge puddle formed outside the local Woolworths and we decided the best thing to do with it would be to open the sliding door, grab the megafone and bellow at the shoppers while we floored the van as fast as possible and drove directly into the puddle in the hope that we would completely soak everyone.

While we were in full flow, screaming at people, we did indeed drive straight into the puddle, but it was so deep that it fed back into the exhaust pipe and flooded the engine.

We rolled to a pathetic stop with all the shoppers watching us, knowing exactly what we had been trying to do. I had to sheepishly get out and step into near waist deep water and try to push this four ton van down the road past all the laughing, dry pedestrians.
(drshipman iz in yr shower killing yr nan, Sat 29 Nov 2008, 9:51, 5 replies)

cream and cringe
Me, 16yrs old and had just had a shag in a jacuzzi and she kept her bikini bottoms on.
This left me with a rather sore/sensitive sensation that grew into a chilli burning type of pants rage by the time I had cycled home.

Decided to take a shower and check myself out.

Blister, down one side of my man part, about an inch and a half in length and already filled with fluid (the blister). The surrounding skin was red and angry looking, the pain was intense and burn like. I needed to do something, fast.

Scanning the bathroom cabinet, I was not surprised to find that we were all out of 'serious cock burn cream' but we did have aftersun, the label waffled on about skin repair, so I thought I was onto a winner!

Our house hold was a serious/ morose type headed by the classic 'out of step with reality' victorian dad, who at that moment , wanted to use the bathroom, he knocked (you always have to knock) and made it clear I was to GTF out ASAP as he wanted to use HIS bathroom...

So I pocketed the solution (pun) to my problem and went to my bedroom to apply the 'solution' to my 'problem' ...

So, Im standing there, trousers and pants around my ankles, my top held clear of the area, tucked under my chin. My hips pushed out to make the best of the light, a big white dollop of solution in my right hand, my nob resting in my left hand, I am seconds, maybe milliseconds away from blister relief when dad walks straight in, moving fast, talking, head down.

He looks up, sees my face, looks down, turns around sharpish and leaves, his sentence trailing off....

The joy of the pain relief was outdone by the *cringe*

He thought he'd just caught me having a creamy wank.

Having to walk out of my room into the lounge and face the ole man was.... difficult to say the least.

No eye contact for at least a week.

I am cringing now, and there are sooooo many more *cringes* in my life...
(orangejuicejohns, Sat 29 Nov 2008, 9:20, 1 reply)

National cringe
The west indian cricket team is due down here in the near future for a tour. The city council in Dunedin has decided to market the event with a slogan . Bearing in mind when the all blacks played at carisbroke earlier in the year they went with a "Black out" theme .

What have they gone with this time for the cricket ??

"ITS ALL WHITE HERE"

Erm yes. I cant see that being misunderstood as anything except a refrence to the teams uniforms . www.stuff.co.nz/4766628a1823.html

I can only conclude that a fair ammount of Speights had been consumed the day they thought that one up
(welgar, Sat 29 Nov 2008, 8:58, 4 replies)

sleep/pissed walking
when my best mate moved up to london from our post uni digs, I threw a HUGE party/send off type of affair. Drinks, smokes, little fellas etc.
(great party 6am finish, I wandered around the house making sure we were 'secure' and chuckled to my self, "Im the last man standing, again!"

Woke up by being kicked by my best mate who said...
"WTF are you doing in my bed?"
Giggles.
I'd gone to bed, fallen asleep, woken up, left jeans and socks at bottom of the stairs, trekked upstairs into his room and gone to sleep top/tailing..

*he still takes the piss :)
(orangejuicejohns, Sat 29 Nov 2008, 8:46, Reply)

File Names.
When at College in Deepest, Darkest Plymouth back in '88, I did computing as a second subject. Being an 18 YO man of the world, I of course read Viz (when it was funny) and quoted it often.
One part of the course was to write a programme to guide a turtle (lego robot vehicle) round a course. We all wrote one, saved it and named it something memorable like "Daves Robot" or somesuch. All of us, that is, except me, who named it (in honour of Sid the Sexist) "titsout".
Hands up who can guess whose programme the tutor wanted sharing so everyone could study?

Bugger.
(kitescreech still here, Sat 29 Nov 2008, 8:02, 2 replies)

Caught red handed
A lot of the stories here seem to have links with onanism, which just so happened to be one of my favourite hobbies when I was a teen. In fact I was, until recently, on average, cracking one off every day due to a disturbingly high sex drive or possible addiction. I think it may be the former as my ladyfriend has banned me from masturbating and it hasn't really affected me too much as long as she's letting me get regular poon.

Hang on, that may well be another embarrasing moment just there...

Anyway, on to the real story. Picture a 10 yr old manbearpig on a trip to the Isle of Skye with two of his cousins and his uncle. A couple of nights previous, said cousins thought it would be hilarious to give their little relative some of the free-flowing booze at another family member's 21st birthday party, attended by my vast extended family. Cue MBP getting rather drunk on very little, skipping round the garden singing "I'm a little teapot" in alternating soprano/baritone due to an early puberty, before collapsing in a giggling heap on the lawn. I don't remember this, as I think I blocked it out although it's regaled to me by family members from time to time.

Aaah, puberty, that bastard concoction of hormones, spots and hair. I hit it early, starting sprouting hair at the age of 9. Luckily my loving parents went out and bought books and refused to talk about it, meaning I got to read all about what was happening to me. This is where I learnt about masturbation. I had once called a naughty phone line when I was 7, having seen adverts in the back of a Sunday Sport. At the urging of the woman/recording on the other end, I vigourously rubbed my cock. Through my jeans. In a circular motion. Till I got mild friction burn on my palm. And MaMBP came home, spying me on the phone. Then making me say who I was calling. Then getting the paper which I had hidden under my matress and show her which line I had called. Oh, the shame...

But anyway, I digress. I had since then learnt how to masturbate properly and started enjoying it. So much that it was an almost daily occurence, urged on by reassurances in books that it was perfectly natural to touch yourself. Which brings us back to the trip.

We were staying on a campsite, and had been out fishing, running about, eating fish & chips and watching a swan eat up a massive wad of phlegm that cousin John had hocked up in to the harbour. We had retired back to the tents, and I was sharing with Robbie. All was fine until the morning, where I had woken up bright and early. "Hmm...." thinks I, "perhaps I can get away with a quick shuffle?"
"Robbie.... Robbie.... Are you awake?...." No response! Get in! So I start to play with myself, teasing my cock into an erect state. Sure enough, about a minute later and I'm trying to wank out a bollock, completely oblivious to the very loud rustling of nylon and the shaking of the tent. All of a sudden, "CAUGHT YOU! YOU DIRTY LITTLE BOY!!!!" bursts forth from the apparently-not-sleeping Robbie. "nonononononononononononoooooooo....." says I under my breath, "errrrrrrr..... I was shivering because it's so cold" conveniently forgetting the little beads of sweat running down my forehead towards my ears.
After what seemed like an eternity of pleading and begging, he agreed to not say anything to my uncle or other cousin; the kind generous soul had obviously been in a similar situation and understood the wanker's shame.

So fast forward on to the next night, where Robbie has insisted that it's John's turn to share a tent with MBP. All protocol has been observed, no self-love in the evening and we both succumb to the slumber only achievable in the fresh, salty air of the seaside. And then I wake up early...

"John... John.... Are you awake?" Not wishing to succumb to the previous morning's trap, I give him a little nudge just to make sure. No response - we have the all-clear! Fwapfwapfwapfwapfwapfwapfwapfwapfwap, there's little MBP doing his best impression of a chinese helicopter pilot, only to be interrupted by "OI, WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING!?!? ROBBIE TOLD ME TO KEEP AN EYE OUT FOR THIS! GET YOUR HANDS OUT OF THE SLEEPING BAG NOW!". Much embarrased and shameful pleading later, promises of mars bars and a can of coke later, the bugger promises to not tell a soul.

Later that day we make our way back to Aberdeen, Led Zepplin blasting out from the tape player, cousin Robbie chipping in with the musical poodle scene from The Young Ones and cousin John quoting from the Viz magazine he is reading. I'm sat in the back of the car, trying to make myself as small as possible just in case anything about my morning activities come out. Sure enough, a little later on there is a lull in conversation. I can sense that, in the same way rats and snakes can sense a natural disaster, Something Very Bad is about to happen.

J "Guess what we caught MBP doing in mornings!"
R "He was wanking!!!"
J "We caught him red-handed!

Cue coughing, spluttering and laughing all at the same time from my uncle. He very quickly regained composure and uttered, nay boomingly announced, the words that have forever burnt themselves in to my soul;
"I bet his hand wasn't the only thing that was red!", much to the glee of my sadistic cousins.

Now Volvos may well be big cars, especially the estates, but there's nowhere big enough to hide when you're 10 years old and your wanking japeries have just been announced to the car when you have another two hours left to get back to the safety of your own bedroom.

As additional shame, my cousins have later caught me masturbating to the ladies of the Innovations catalogue and the back pages of Viz, with the grannies-in-bras and other smutty adverts. If you're lucky I might tell you about my night of viagra-based passion where they young lady in question buggered off shortly after I had necked the pill, leaving me with a terminator-esque cock that kept on coming back no matter what I did to it, and only the aforementioned back pages of Viz to aid in dripping the white-hot coconuts from the veiny palm tree of lust.

Length? Try two hours of merciless piss-taking from two teens and an adult who should definitely know better.
(Manbearpig is wearing a rabbitskin jacket and bunny ears, Sat 29 Nov 2008, 4:39, 11 replies)

i visited my aunt this summer
Me, my mum and my sister visited my aunt up in the countryside.

We'd been down the pub, i'd had a couple and was having a bit of trouble changing my speech pattern and vocabulary back into "relatives and family" mode from "mates you work with" mode.

As we're walking back to their house we are discussing who has what bedroom.
"You can have the one nearest us" says aunt
"ooo are you sure? I snore if I've been drinking" i exclaim.
"Don't worry about that, it's an old house, big thick walls, completely sound proofed"
"Oh good, ok" I say "if that's the case, i might have a wank"


it sounded funny in my head.
they didn't find it funny.


and the room in question was the nursery.
( KittyWaste lives at Sleepingplanet.com, Sat 29 Nov 2008, 4:24, 1 reply)

a black day...
an aquaintance of mine once referred (in a live TV panel discussion) to Nigeria as the dark horses of the World Cup. The station's switchboard melted down in about 45 seconds with the volume of calls.
(tuqueboy has been in a medically -induced coma since, Sat 29 Nov 2008, 4:20, 4 replies)

She was lovley, i was mistaken
So I used to work in the heart of London, I used to catch the train into Waterloo, then the train from Waterloo East to Charing Cross.
That final bit of the journey was always standing room only on the train, everyone squashed in together trying to be very British and not actually making eye contact or breathing on one another.
Over the course of a few weeks every so often I would see a very lovely girl on the train, she would be standing too, sometimes we'd be quite close; and we would make eye contact.
Now I am a shy person, or certainly I was a lot more shy back then, and it literally took me about a week to get to the point of smiling at her, and when I did she smiled back. A big warm 'I think you're nice' smile. and then she was gone. I didn’t see her the next day, or the day after that, or the week after that.
I started religiously getting the same train, the same carriage, the same door in the hopes of crossing paths with her. Swearing at myself for not simply saying hello to her at any of those missed opportunities. If I saw her again, I would say hello, I would rip stars from the sky for her, but I would start with "hello".
4 weeks went by.
One day when I was least expecting it, I saw her and as the doors closed I found myself (along with 150 others) squashed up against her, facing her, making eye contact with her.
"Hello" I said, trying to stop the warble of nerves entering my voice.
"Hello" she replied with a warm smile
I was emboldened, floating on air, feeling like I was on top of the world "How are you?"
"Erm...I'm fine" a sort of nervous smile this time. By this time some of the other passengers had started taking an interest. Were they squashed next to some predatory nutter?
The cold realisation dawn on me, 4 weeks is a long time. And while I’d never had believed it was possible to forget her face, I surly had.
Needing to know, I asked "You don't know me do you?"
"No" she replied
"Ah, I’m sorry I must have confused you with someone else"
Now at best this shows a total lack of attention to anyone other than yourself and at worst appears to be a very old, overused and obvious pick up line.
Normally at this point a certain amount of embarrassment is released and the offender, me, shuffles off and tries to find a nice hole to crawl into.
But I couldn’t, this was a packed carriage, I was left helpless, locked against this very nice lady who didn't know me. My embarrassment factor went up, I started to blush.
Finally the man nearest me, couldn’t' help himself and released a small giggle. So did the girl, then another man, and another...
As the doors opened at Charing Cross an entire carriage of people with tears streaming down their faces, aching sides and sore cheeks exited leaving a beetroot coloured boy mortified in an empty train.

For the next two years I walked from waterloo to charring cross.

i apologise for noffink
( KittyWaste lives at Sleepingplanet.com, Sat 29 Nov 2008, 4:15, 2 replies)

pre-sleep shame spiral
I hate it when I go to bed SO tired, absolutely knackered, that sleep seems a heartbeat away.

Head hits the pillow, and then BAM! that thing I did a lifetime ago twats me round the head with all the venom of a young Ray Winstone.

After an indeterminate amount of time I manage to rationalise that one in my head.

But old Ray's not done yet.

He slips another pool ball into the mix. "This one," he snarls, "this one is for that time you did that slightly embarrassing thing that no-one ever remembers but you."

And so it goes on and on.

I cringe but I cannot sleep.

Stephen?!
( nightbuffalo needs more duct tape, Sat 29 Nov 2008, 3:43, 4 replies)

There is not one male B3tard
that doesn't cringe

www.thehumorarchives.com/joke/Baseball_Cup
(thereisnopoons until, Sat 29 Nov 2008, 2:47, 3 replies)

have a very woolie christmas
Anyone been into Woolworths since they've gone bust?
IF you havent, they still have up the festive " a very merry christmas from woolworths" sign plastered round our local.

IRONY!

Though you have to feel embarressed for the poor sod who had to but the sign up when the company was worth 1ooo th of his wage.
And laughing at it today is now making me cringe as the staff really didnt seem to get the joke....
(violent pacifist ;now with 20% more paradox...., Sat 29 Nov 2008, 1:38, 1 reply)

First term at boarding school
Strangely enough, I don't remember being particularly embarrassed by this at the time, but 21 years later I can't think of it without cringing massively.

I went off to boarding school at the age of 11, and at the end of our first term we had a house Christmas party. This involved each of four sections of the house putting on a 15 minute "entertainment" for the benefit of everyone else.

Somehow (and I can't start to imagine how gullible I must have been back then) I was persuaded to do one sketch by myself, based on a silly article in some magazine one of the other boys had (I think it may have been a Viz annual).

And so I went onto the makeshift stage, with my 11-year-old self dressed only in a blazer, wellington boots, and a pair of Y-fronts. With my right hand on the inside of said Y-fronts, visibly moving about. And I began a 2-minute monologue:

"Masturbation - the difficult one. Some people find it difficult to talk about. Others find it difficult to do..."

I can't remember the whole of the speech (no doubt my memory is trying to protect me from something), but I do remember that it ended with me giving a helpline number for anyone experiencing difficulties in the wanking department.

Of course, this was all played out not just in front of about fifty 11-15 year old boys, all of whom were howling with laughter, but the housemaster and other house staff, including Matron. And the school chaplain. And the headmaster's wife.

Quite how I got through the next six and a half years I'll never know...
(Armour Dillow, Sat 29 Nov 2008, 1:11, 1 reply)

Spiderbabies
On my kitchen windowsill there are a couple of spiderplants, which are currently sending forth long stalks with little spiderplants on the end, as they tend to.

The other weekend, various members of Miss Photon's family were visiting for the day, and were sat around in the kitchen while I was preparing lunch. They were chatting, and I was putting the finishing touches to some lovely soup when her mother must have spotted the spiderplants, and suddenly exclaimed "Ooh! Can I have your babies?".
(Photon wasting your time since, Sat 29 Nov 2008, 0:50, Reply)

Foot in mouth...
...Cock in hand, as you'll see from two of the three stories below.

1) I'm bipolar. Specifically type 2. It comes from a long history of mentals in my family, so I've not so much as developed something new as been passed the baton on in my family. The fact that I'm bipolar will come in to play shortly.

This was earlier this year, back in February, when I had split up with my long term girlfriend, and tried to off myself in the canal in Chester because I had essentially had a breakdown over the period of three days and had cracked quite successfully. I lived with two other students at the time, both girls, and we were all fairly open with each other and used to each others habits a lot of the time.

I must also admit that I had gone from a state of being highly sexed (woo!) to getting none whatsoever. As I was a bit of a social reject at the time, having completely lost the plot along the way and being diagnosed with being bipolar type 2 (which is treatable but incurable), I decided to spend most of my time in bed drinking and wanking. I had my laptop, 8 meg wireless broadband, an almost limitless supply of vodka thanks to parents saying "Here is £150, we know you've had a really rough time lately, go out and treat yourself", so I was set up for the above plan.

Apart from one thing.

I never tended to lock my door unless I was going out. My housemates, I'll call them R and B because that amuses me and it's also true, would wander in most of the time asking for this, that and the other, and I would generally give them what they wanted (fnarr fnarr). About three days into what would become my worst drinking session, and my last (I quit after it and have been sober since), I decide that it would be awesome to have yet another wank. So I do so. Did I mention that I've been drinking for about three days straight? So you may imagine the state I'm in. I had also somehow cut my cock on my nails, so I tended to ooze blood a bit.

The cringeworthy moment is when my fitter housemate, B, wanders in, and sees me very, very drunk on my bed, naked from the waist down, bleeding, my cock held in some sort of death-grip, and me gurning spectacularly. *Cringe* She left my room pretty damn quickly.

2) About a month after the first incident, I am once again in my room wanking. However, unlike before, I am now on proper medication, citalopram and zopiclone (cita is an anti-depressant and zopi are sleeping pills) as opposed to alcohol. So I'm fairly hopped up on the above pills, and not entirely with it. A wee bit stoned, you might say.

Somehow I fail to notice that one of my housemates brothers, we shall call him W, has turned up. Given that my bedroom door was about 5 foot away from the front door, you may begin to see just how fucked I was on these pills. I had learnt my lesson from the first incident, and locked my door whenever I was wanking, so people now knocked on my door if they wanted to speak to me.

So I hear a knock on my door just as I hit the vinegar strokes.

"What is it?" I call, boxers still around ankles and todger still firmly in hand just as I finish up into my hand.
"W's here, he wants to say hi to you." I hear B shout through the door.

Shit. At this point, my mind clears enough for me to drag my boxers and jeans up, do my belt and flies up, and for me to open the door and say hi. However, my mind hasn't cleared enough for me to remember that I should have wiped my hand really clean as opposed to a quick wipe across the back of my jeans. I remember this too late. There was an audible squelch as we shook hands. *Cringe*

3) Back when I was a wee ghost, there was a talent competition going on at primary school. Coincidentally, this was around the time that Definitely Maybe was released, so I thought to myself, "Ah, I'll just do my best Liam Gallagher impression. I'm bound to win it."

So I practice singing Live Forever, and nail it reasonably for a 7 year old. The morning of the talent competition dawns, and I get The Fear. I manage to squash it mostly, up until the point where the school is asked to assemble in the main hall for the talent competition. As luck would bloody have it, I get volunteered first. I am trying not to drop a brick in my pants at this point.

I sidle towards the stage, completely forgetting everything I had rehearsed, including the small but noteworthy contribution of "I'm going to be doing an impression of Liam Gallagher, and here it is."

I get on the stage, look nervously at the 150 odd other kids, and belt out "Gonna live foreeeeeevaaaah!". Those exact words. Nothing else. Nobody knows what to make of it, teachers and kids alike. I sidle off, face burning, to complete silence. Hell, even a raucous jeer would have been better than silence. *Cringes*
(Ghost Atreides enjoying incontestable health benefits on, Sat 29 Nov 2008, 0:37, 3 replies)

I used to think that if you had an acoustic guitar
it meant you were a protest singer.

I can smile about it now, but at the time it was terrible.

Click 'I like this!', or I'll panic on the streets of London, Dublin, Dundee and Humberside.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Sat 29 Nov 2008, 0:07, 2 replies)

Just last week, I was upstairs
And my girlfriend was downstairs, feeding our baby daughter. She yells up the stairs, "She's just been sick all over my hair!"

So I yell back "Well, it could be worse, at least it's not spunk."

She yells "Errr.... Johab. My mother's here."

Ooops.
(JohabMorelli is spenging merrily away, Fri 28 Nov 2008, 23:11, Reply)

put the fun into funeral!
Being mournful at funerals has never really suited me, this wasnt too much of a problem when my grandad (on my mothers side) died as he, much like the rest of my mother's side, have an amazingly inappropriate sense of humour. If you know me this probably explains where i get it from.

As i was saying, when his funeral came it was an incredibly sad time but we always found a way to cram in a joke here or there just to break the tension which to be honest was exactly what i needed (i was only 15 and had not been old enough to deal with the concept of death before)


fast forward quite a bit however to my other grandad, now it should be noted that my dad's side of the family are immensley serious, arguments were had over what room the coffin should be present in and they actually complained about the priest having a limp as it "looked disrespectful".

cut to us leaving the house on the day of the funeral, my dad sat in the front of the funeral car next to the driver as we had to squeeeze my auntie in.

As the procession starts i could feel the genes from my mum's side start to pull me toward the dark side when i blurted out

"great dad, that guy has to walk because you took his seat!"

did i get the great big laugh or a tension breaking snigger, no, angry glares from them for the rest of the day, you better believe it!
(rocknroll_pirate had a dream involving holly willoughby and custard, Fri 28 Nov 2008, 22:52, 5 replies)

How I got my *As long as it moves* label
Ahhh...the first week of college, full with us young un's attempting to act cooler than we really were and desperately trying to make friends by pretending to be everything a 16 year old should be.

So panini bar, a small gathering, say 8-12 16-18 year olds including myself just generally nattering about who was fit on the course, who looked like the class geek, who'd drop out within the first week etc... when I get a phone call off WallyEllySue Senior (aka Mother).

Natter...Natter...Natter...*Click*

Ok, Ms. Sue time to throw yourself right back into the conversation and score some points!

Potential Class Clown(as I was absent mindedly saying parting greetings with my mother): So I was getting this one girl off like this right....

Me: No Way! THIS is how you get a girl off! Works for me everytime!

*Then proceeds to demonstrate the action with which is exactly how I satisfy both myself and other individuals consisting of two X chromosomes*

*Silence and several looks of virginial amusement at such an action*

Potential Class Clown: 'Woah.... Well we were actually talking about how you GET OFF with someone not how you GET SOMEONE OFF but we can talk about that too, nice to see how you demonstrated though'

*Cue rosy red cheeks*

Potential Class Perv: 'So you're like a lesbian then?'

Please be kind....tis my first time (post)
(WallyEllySue Another fine mess..., Fri 28 Nov 2008, 22:47, 4 replies)

the nightmare before christmas
twas a fine winters night in the borough of reading, just before christmas.
me and some friends had decided a night out was in question. unfortunately, the only suitable venue also had a drinks promotion- double vodka and coke for £2.
i have something of a history with cheap vodka.

somehow it came to pass that i had topped off a mid-sized bottle of jack with many several of said doubles, and was fuckin STEAMING.

i woke up on my bed, lights on, door open, bollock naked except for my socks and a studded belt.

realising that i had a mighty need, i shambled past the sleeping inebriates in the loungew, through the kitchen to the toilet.
here i found a neat pile in front of the loo, of my clothes.
ALL my clothes
including, along with a pair of scissors, my converse chuck t's with the laces cut into little segments.


this meant i had gone from the toilet, through the kitchen, lounge complete with 3-4 dudes 2 of who i barely knew, and to bed wearing socks and a belt.

not only this, but i'd apparently been in my local chicken shop, screaming with laughter lying on the floor banging on the glass counter front, and had to be carried out.
i also got home and swept everything off the mantlepiece onto the floor, then started a fight with the christmas tree resulting in a severe de-baubling and snapped trunk.

none of this was retained in my brain.
alas the chicken shop owner recalls very well, and rags on me about it every time i come in.
(UppityDamnPrimate LET'S OPEN THIS F*CKING PIT UP, Fri 28 Nov 2008, 22:37, 3 replies)

foot in mouth disease
one night, on a drive with some friends, we stopped at a garage to buy some munchies. we loaded ourselves up with sweet treats, then drove to our local sea-view smoking place, burbo bank.
tucking happily into my chocolatey treats, i casually turned to my friends and uttered the now immortal line: "would anybody like a bit of my muffin?"
it took a full minute before i realised why they were pissing themselves laughing.
( Smash Monkey lowering the tone of the whole internet, Fri 28 Nov 2008, 22:13, 2 replies)

A lecturer at a friends Uni
Walked in at the start of the year, just after the summer holidays to a packed lecture. My friend studies dentistry at a large uni, and it happens that there are a great deal of Asian students there.

The lecture, noticing how healthy everyone is looking after their holidays in the sun kicks off with the phrase: "Well, good morning everyone! I hope you all had a good holiday - I can certainly see a lot of brown faces in the audience!"

At which point most of the room starts pissing themselves, and the lecturer elects to leave, delegating the teaching of the module to someone else for the rest of the year. As opening statements go, it probably wasn't the best.
(Merrep, Fri 28 Nov 2008, 22:13, Reply)

Now look what happened to yesterday's lunch
Back in the 90s i had spent a summer night at a campsite. When i woke up in the morning i felt very tired, so i stayed in "bed" until i had to pee.
In my boxer shorts and t-shirts, i walked (or rather: staggered) towards the toilet house and felt increasingly sick.

After most of the way, some sort of volcano in me erupted. I bent over and puked in the middle of the way. While puking, i felt something running down my legs - guess what it was? Squirts!
There i was, shitting and puking in bright daylight in the middle of the road. As i was almost at the toilet house, i decided i could just have a shower and then go back. Of course i had neither money nor a towel with me. So after a cold shower i walked back in my freshly washed underwear, dripping wet. What a sick way to spend a vacation...

Length: About the longest ~30min of the 90s. The shit-and-puke-trail was not even 2 meters.
(timbolator successfully hiding from the authorities on, Fri 28 Nov 2008, 22:12, Reply)

Once coming home very drunk,
I stumbled into the kitchen, where my dear sweet mother was cooking some sort of mushroom couscous, and, I shit you not, it smelled EXACTLY like cum. Exactly like it.

Being the incredibly subtle drunk person I was, I promptly came out with the immortal line
"God, mum! That stuff absolutely stinks of cum!"
...which would have been bad enough. But the cringe-worthy part is my mother's reply. She took a couple of deep sniffs and replied
"Yes it does rather, doesn't it?"

I shuddered all the way to bed that night.

Length? It's normally longer but it's a little cold tonight, you understand.
(The Oscillating Gibbon is eating curried squid, Fri 28 Nov 2008, 22:06, 5 replies)

Maths lesson at school
Our teacher, Mr Cooper, was busy teaching us kids something in maths one day. As usual after his explanation he asked one of us a question to see if we had understood. He picked on Manisha. As the name suggests Manisha was originally from India and spoke with quite a strong Indian accent. The conversation went something like this (simplified maths because I cant remember what it was - some A level crap anyway):

Mr C: Manisha, 2+2 please.
Manisha: (mumbled) 4.
Mr C: Sorry?
Manisha: (mumbled again) 4.
Mr C: In English please...

I think he realised what he said after about 2 seconds. Its wonderful to see a teacher in an extremely awkward position like that.
(Shameless, Fri 28 Nov 2008, 21:58, Reply)

a few years ago
When I started at Derby Uni, I moved into the halls of residence (Lonsdale hall for any current students/alumni), and we're just more or less getting to know our neighbours and flat-mates.

we unfortuantly had a communal toilet in our flat, it was kinda like a toilet block, with two toilet partitions next to each other with a shower and a sink.

I was preparing for the big freshers party having a shower and I'd literally just finished, grabbed my towel and then heard two of my housemates coming in to use the toilet.

They continued to have a full blown conversation on the toilet whilst taking a dump with the occasional grunting and 'nnnghhh-ing', and totally oblivious to the fact i was in the shower there listening to this, I was like that scene from 'Harold and Kumar go to Whitecastle' uk.youtube.com/watch?v=xsIASofR5-E

yes they were engaging in a game of 'Battleshits'...
(Lord Chode, Fri 28 Nov 2008, 21:55, Reply)

Whilst having an STD test...
Embarrassing in itself, no?

Well while Im lying there, legs akimbo fo the world to see, the nurse strikes up a lovely conversation.

She: 'Oh I only do this on thursdays, I work at the hospital every other day of the week'

Me: 'err ok'

She: 'Yeah I work with your mum'

Me: 'Pardon?!?!?!?!'

She: 'Ohh we've been friends for years, I used to babysit you when you were a toddler. Im Jane, I didnt think you recognised me. Good job this is confidential eh!'

Me: 'Yes'

She: 'Otherwise I'd be STRAIGHT on the phone to your mother! She'd be so disappointed in you. Ive known you since the day you were born.'

Test done.


I was 16 at the time. I was so ashamed every time Ive ever needed the assistance of a sexual health clinic Ive travelled the 20 miles to the next one. Which now, conveniently, my mother works at.

And I didnt even have anything either. pah. Waste of my time.
(i should have joined myspace, Fri 28 Nov 2008, 21:53, 6 replies)