Finally, a decent QOTW...
For some reason, I attract embarrassment like honey attracts bees. The following stories are all genuinely true:



1. The first time I got properly drunk. It was at an Indian resteraunt for someone's birthday meal. Everyone except me was sober. I ended the evening passed out in my curry. Why was I face first in my curry? Because I had accepted a 20p bet that I wouldn't eat it without using cutlery. Or my hands. I may even put up the video...

2. The second time I got properly drunk. It was a party at a big house in the country, but they only had one bathroom. I passed out in it for three hours next morning. I thought the host was going to kill me when I finally got out.

3. Age 7. My birthday. One of the dinner ladies makes me a special cake with mazipan icing. "I don't like that sort of thing" quoth I. That moment still haunts me, 11 years later.

4. Night-time power kiting festival. I launch myself into a sizable jump, not realising there are children playing some 30ft to my right. I realise this, but not quite in time to prevent myself delivering a perfect two-footed flying kick to the side of a three year old girl's head.

With her dad watching.

5. Club in Edinburgh about 5 weeks ago. I'd been on the double vodkas all night, and I was very, very drunk. I also reallllllllly needed a piss.

I was on Princes street. There are no public toilets on Princes street. There is, however, a war memorial. I think you see where this is going.

6. Walking to Tesco one lunchtime with some friends, including a guy called Max. Max was moaning about the fact he never had any money, despite the fact that we knew his granddad was a millionaire. Max asked us to stop going on about his granddad, saying that he "Was going through a tough patch at the moment". "Oh really?" Said I. "What happened? Did his pockets break from the strain?". "Um... No. He's got cancer, actually."

Ouch.

7. The other week, in the campus nightclub, after far too many beers. Talking to a very attractive young women (which is unusual in itself for me). However, it was so loud that I couldn't really hear her. What my brain said was "It's very loud in here, could we nip outside for a moment where we might have a chance of hearing each other?".

What my drunken mouth slurred out (probably complete with a certain amount of drool) was "Do you wanna come for a walk wi' me?". Cue look of disgust.



I'm sure there will be more as and when I remember them...
( MatJ LOOK, Thu 27 Nov 2008, 21:57, 7 replies)

Little bastards
The first talk I ever gave. Downtrodden council employee, requested by school to give educational talk to (as I remember it) 13/14 year olds (don't get me into that Year 7 malarkey).

As the almost qualified one, but being "unaccustomed to public speaking" I decide to tag along with the experienced officer & get some experience by doing a portion of the talk.

The plan is, he will do the talk for the first (half hour) session whilst I observe, and in the second session, I will do the last 10 minutes.

Trouble was that the first session was to the top stream, who sat attentively & listened.

The second was to the numpties & the oxygen-thieves, who didn't give a shiny shite about what two tossers from the council had to say.

So I was cacking it when it came to my turn to lose the talk-virginity, and doing a fantastic impression of Michael J Fox using a masonry drill. I suppose my big mistake was to pick up the soft toy I was using as an example by its straggly hair rather than by the body.

The bouncy little bastard in the front row who stood up & shouted

"MISS, MISS LOOK! THE TOY! IT'S FRIGHTENED! IT'S SHAKING"

well that little shite finished me off on my debut, the boards were held up on the sideline & my number was being paraded before the crowd.

Strange that I now do it for a living, though not in front of 13 year old little shites. It's akin to the shy girl at school becoming the town slapper.
(Worthless wishes he had the brains of a pigeon, Thu 27 Nov 2008, 21:57, Reply)

The ex
I used to be seen out with her. That was embarrassing.
(purplegod counting down for Christmas!, Thu 27 Nov 2008, 21:51, 3 replies)

My b3ta username
_{Not really. I luv it!}
( mistaspakkaman and the inedible shifting caterpillars, Thu 27 Nov 2008, 21:40, 1 reply)

What's French for "cringe!"
My Collins Pocket French Dictionary says, "avoir une mouvement de recul" but that's too much of a mouthful.

Anyhow. From September 2006 to September 2007 I was living in Paris as part of my degree course and generally enjoying the fact that the euro was cheap at the time and that you could score a slab of Grimbergen (20 bottles) for under ten euros from most supermarkets. I was also enjoying having a lovely big Erasmus grant which I didn't need pay back. And the fact that the French don't believe in tuition fees outside of the ridiculously selective grandes écoles - and even then the only one that charges all that much is HEC, the country's leading graduate school for business and economics. So in short, I was comparatively flush.

Anyhow. One Friday afternoon in December I decided to go for a little wander round the city and in doing so I happened upon, tucked away between the Rue de Rivoli and the Forum des Halles, one of those goth/metal/alternativey type emporia. You know the sort, they're usually overflowing with band shirts and frilly bits and big flappy dresses on hangars and spiky bracers and the sort of huge frilly shirts that you can wander round Italy in trying to get laid. So I wandered in and was greeted by the proprietor.

She was the apotheosis of mutton dressed as lamb. Twice my age but dressed like less than half her own. She had this low-quality black dye job in her hair, a leopard-print top that was far too tight for its own good with a latex corset squeezed round her middle, in an attempt to make her norques seem less terrifying. Far too much cleavage as well; it made her nichons look like Roquefort. Oh, and not to mention trousers of the tight variety with moose knuckle showing.

Worst of all, she seemed to be coming on to me. Alarmingly so. She didn't mind that my French accent sounded like I was a barbarous Englander speaking French (which I was). So, once I'd looked around and so forth, I made some excuses and vanished.

Fast forward to about April, and I'm up the Elysée Montmartre with a mate (English, visiting) queuing to see the frankly ace power metal band Kamelot (an anagram of which is pretty apt to describe this woman) and some other acts. We'd both demolished a few tinnies beforehand, because the drinks prices up the Elysée were ridiculous. So we went in just in time for the support act and who should hove into view but the above-mentioned mutton dressed as lamb woman, only this time she seemed to be doing an impression of Doro Pesch. Who, as you can see, is herself no spring chicken. And she asked me who my "delicious" (her words not mine) friend was. I explained that he was Benedict and he was a friend from England.

She then turned to him, looked him up and down, and said, in broken English, "I'd take him as well."

At this point, j'ai eu un mouvement de recul.

I spent most of the support band's show hiding in the toilets. When I emerged, the hall was full enough that I could more effectively mingle with the crowd without being spotted. Granted, this was made harder by the fact that I'm a ginger and there are very few gingers in France, and especially not six-foot-three ones in big stompy boots. Indeed, throughout the show I saw her trying to find me in the crowd by shuffling through the mass of bodies a few steps, then standing on tiptoes and looking around, like a soon-to-be-decommissioned submarine.

I consider myself lucky to have escaped alive.

Bloody ace concert though.
(Blizzardbeast, Thu 27 Nov 2008, 21:30, Reply)

New Years Eve 2003
A long day of excessive drinking and smoking (ah, remember smoking in pubs?) general debauchery and drug taking had eventually led to a small group of survivors sloppily watching the fireworks on the bank of the Thames at midnight 31st December 2003. We're about to welcome a New Year of 2004, I should be happy. CELEBRATE! But with no one to kiss as the bell rings, too drunk and melancholy, feeling a little sorry for myself and spiraling out of control. things couldn't get any worse when suddenly I'm roused as I catch the eye of an attractive young woman, about my age, walking towards me. Dark haired and beautiful and no doubt about it, she is nodding her head and smiling, looking at me! Oh Lord oh lucky day, this year is going to be a good one! So her arms are outstretched and she's walking towards me and I do the natural thing and spread my arms to welcome her sweet embrace and I'm almost laughing and smiling like an idiot when I notice her facial expression change slightly at the last moment and I realise that she's actually holding out a camera and orchestrating a funny photo of her friends just over my shoulder!! Fan-fucking-tastic. And its too late to stop now because I'm right in her face and grab her round the waist and breathe drunkenly at her and she turns away and half shouts "Arghhhh..... GET OFF ME YOU MORON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"


cnut cnut cnut cnut cnut......... New year is shit.... cnut cnut cnut cnut cnut.... shame shame shame shame
(aroe_m0rre, Thu 27 Nov 2008, 21:24, Reply)

Back in the 90's I was over at my then shagmate's place
surfing the net while she was making something in the kitchen. I was on
Ernie's House of Whoop Ass when I found camera footage of somebody staggering along and suddenly being flattened by a train.

I called her roommate over to have a look, saying something along the lines of "How could anybody be that stupid?" when she spun around and left the room.

Turns out her brother had killed himself by standing in front of a train.
(Ejaculantern was caught desecrating pumpkins on, Thu 27 Nov 2008, 21:17, 2 replies)

caught wanking/porning
by --relative/friend name goes here--
( wjh31, Thu 27 Nov 2008, 21:10, 1 reply)

cash machine
i thanked a cash machine after using it. behind me were a queue of 5 people waiting to use it. cringeing doesn't cover it!
(TexasPete enjoyed being sexually molested by your Father on, Thu 27 Nov 2008, 21:08, 3 replies)

Hairdressers
The number of times I've asked for "a cut and blow-job".
(sparkly_penguin, Thu 27 Nov 2008, 21:07, 2 replies)

Sleepwalking
Dear me, I could fill 10 pages by myself.

Usually drink-related natch.

Around 15 years ago, when imbibed I would tend to sleepwalk, usually (but not always) when looking for the bog. I was at my worst during the period I shared a house with 2 mates.

Amongst other incidents, I climbed into bed with a lad who was staying downstairs on a camp bed, saying I needed to share with him as "The authorities had kicked me out of my bed". The reason for this eviction by officialdom remained a mystery.

But the crowning glory was returning home after yet another unsuccessful night out on the pull to retire to my wanking pit for another night's drink-induced slumber.

One of my housemates HAD pulled though (well he had met her the previous week, this was date 3, but she had come back to the house for the 1st ever time) and he was happily ensconced in the adjacent bedroom to mine.

An hour or so passes & it's time for Worthless to go walkies. I stumbled out of my bedroom door & instead of carrying on straight ahead, I turned left, opened the door and turned on the light.

The happy couple were greeted with the sight of me, a pair of socks, an inane drunken grin & f**k all else.

Well, except my piss-hard-on.

My housemate shouted at me once or twice & eventually turned me round & directed me to the bog, before returning to his new squeeze to explain.

To her eternal credit, she didn't flee, as she may have been entitled to do, they've got two kids now.

No, she laughed like a f**king drain.

Probably because I've got a kid's cock.

*Apologies for socks*
(Worthless wishes he had the brains of a pigeon, Thu 27 Nov 2008, 21:05, 2 replies)

I was in school.
Photography class. Lots of nice girls and 3 boys (one of which is me). Teacher (female) is taking the register. There is a discussion about some sort of school activity, and it ends with one girl somewhat angry about some detail of it (I forget most of this, but unfortunately not the worst bit). So all the class is silent for a second, focusing on the anger of this girl. The silence is broken by me saying:

"Tch. It's that time of the month"

I have no idea if I was just being incredibly dense, or if there was some element of trying to be funny/etc. involved. Either way the class was now doubly silent and staring at me.

I tried to escape my shame by saying "Tuesday".

I'm still ashamed of this now (along with many other cringeworthy things I did in school that I've currently forgotten).
( Awesome Welles petitioning for foetuses to be rebranded 'wombles', Thu 27 Nov 2008, 21:03, Reply)

oops
My mother found out about my uni boyfriend by coming by my dorm unexpectedly. He unexpectedly answered-- unexpectedly naked. With a quite unexpected, umm, enlargement. Thanksgiving was quiet.
(blackkatt82 likes cheese!, Thu 27 Nov 2008, 21:02, 1 reply)

Sporadic Sunday mornings between the ages of 30 and 34.
Waiting for them to leave so I can go back to bed and promise myself I would never do it again.
( girlinthehole, Thu 27 Nov 2008, 20:59, 5 replies)

Model Employee Material
Several years ago, one of my mates had just finished university and decided he fancied spending a few months relaxing on the dole riding the government gravy train before he got his first proper job. Now as I'm sure you know the DWP don't take too kindly to this so, after a few months, they put more and more pressure on you to at least get the odd interview and then follows up with the employers to make sure you're actually trying.

So my friend is finally coerced into getting an interview for a job he desperately doesn't want. The night before he wracks his brain trying to think of a way he can put them off employing him without making it too obvious. Finally he decides he'll tell them that he doesn't perform as well under his own initiative and thinks he works best in a supervised environment. It's perfect. It puts doubt in the mind of the interviewers and has enough management buzzwords in it to sound like someone who is at least trying but, due to nerves, might have been just a bit too honest.

So he gets to the interview and they're running through the usual questions. Eventually they ask him what his strengths are and he sells himself without going too far. They follow it up by asking him what his weaknesses are. This is it, this is the moment he's been preparing for. All he has to do is repeat his pre-prepared answer and he's home free. His life of riley continues and the tax-payer can foot the bill, nothing can possibly go wrong!

Except for the fact that instead of trotting out the line he's memorised he panics and blurts out the immortal line "I need to be watched!"

"O-okay." One of the interviewers stammers after a moment of shocked silence. "Well I think we've got all the information we need....we'll let you know."

He didn't get the job.

Or his dole money anymore.
( Gleeballs is mostly made out of chocolate and hate., Thu 27 Nov 2008, 20:55, Reply)

In the pub
Sat at a table with about 4 mates, all with full pints. In comes a bloke with his very attractive girlfriend, and finding nowhere else to sit they ask to join us, and of course we all agree. We chat merrily, all us blokes eyeing up the girlfriend's massive bazongas. I stand up to go to the toilet, knocking the table and spilling my pint into the girlfriend's lap. There was only one thing for me to do - 'Leg it' I screamed, and ran out, closely followed by, well, no one actually. Not sure which was worse, spilling the pint or standing outside knowing my mates were inside laughing at me.
(Smale is stuffed, Thu 27 Nov 2008, 20:50, Reply)

Texting my Mother
"9 out of 10 people enjoy gang rape"
( TGB checking Off Topic is still shit at, Thu 27 Nov 2008, 20:44, 5 replies)

Well I was in the pub....
and was rather drunk. I got up and went to go to the toilets. In front of me was a big guy, shaved head, one earring, typical man-swagger going on.

The toilets are downstairs and he was stumbling about all over the place, he got to the bottom and turned left to head into the ladies.

Me following behind him happily chimed out "Ladies!".

Yes, it was a really butch lesbian who turned round and said "Yes I am a Lady" (I could hear the capital letter). Wishing I was a man so I could run into the other toilets I scampered inside squeaking an apology. Sods law she finished at the same time as me so I got to stand next to her whilst washing my hands as well. I hid in the corner of the pub for the rest of the night.
( TGB checking Off Topic is still shit at, Thu 27 Nov 2008, 20:42, 3 replies)

Army Cringe
As a young private soldier I had the pleasure on one hungover Friday morning, of informing my female, RMP, RSM that I had infact lost the keys to the Corporals Mess (which I was barman for at the time)in the brothel opposite camp.

As an added bonus I had also just filled one of the duty vehicles with unleaded petrol rather than diesel.

It was an awkward and expensive conversation, and I didn't get offered any coffee either!

Oh and pop, love this site too bits!
(Rampant Robot, Thu 27 Nov 2008, 20:39, 2 replies)

Chugging
For a (very) brief while, I earned a crust as a street charity seller. You know, the people that pester you when you're walking down the street and have far better things to do. To say I was bad at the job was an understatement. It was the Friday of my first week and I had failed to sign up a single person. I found myself on a street in Sutton, hopelessly attempting to lure people away from their shopping and stop and talk to me.

Now truth be told, I had woken at a ridiculous hour to get there and my enthusiasm was somewhat flagging (getting told you're a fucking disgrace on a daily basis can do that for you!). I stopped bothering with all the 'quirky' stopping techniques my boss insisted upon such as "pay them a compliment" which translated to "only bother stopping people you'd want to shag" (in his case at least). So I was churning out the same phrase, give or take a few words like some kind of do-gooding dalek. The most original thing my sleep starved brain could come up with was:

"Hi there, could I stop you for a quick chat about..." insert horrific charity statistic here

or

"Hi there, could I stop you for a brief chat about..."

So there I was, alternating between the words quick and brief with varying success, until I stepped up to a rather attractive lady, and decided to burst into full enthusiasm mode. Sadly my brain failed to keep pace, resulting in me issuing the following phrase.

"Hi there, could I stop you for a queef...."

Yes, the words quick and brief had collided in my head to form a most lethal portmanteau. Worst of all, having requested that this stranger fanny-fart, I was so cringe ridden that I was unable to say anything else. Her look of abject disgust is etched into my mind, as she quickly stormed off, I could at least be contented by the fact that this is only the second most embarassing incident of my life!

More to follow...
(wordsworthless is outnumbered but never outpunned, Thu 27 Nov 2008, 20:38, 4 replies)

Trousers
At school, aged about 13. Have to stand up at the front of class with some other pupils. Without me noticing my flies come undone, and my trousers fall down. Cue teacher pissing herself and me going redder than an embarassed beetroot.
(Smale is stuffed, Thu 27 Nov 2008, 20:35, Reply)

This will make you cringe!
Unless your a sadistic bastard then you will laugh.
news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/england/merseyside/4253849.stm

NEVER PISS OFF A WOMAN!!!

Sorry for the link but this is just too good not to be posted here!
(Ginger_Whinger got in the newsletter!! =D, Thu 27 Nov 2008, 20:25, 8 replies)

School cringe!

One day in secondary school I was walking back into class after lunch break with a friend. My friend asked me what class did I have next. I could have simply replied, "French" and leave it at that, but oh no, I had to go and elaborate. So, I went, "Yeah, French, with Mrs C*****", and just to hammer a point home about the teacher's height, or lack thereof, I made a gesture with my hands to signify something very small indeed, while sniggering and saying "Actual size!"

A glimpse out of the corner of my eye and there was Mrs C*****, walking behind me on her way to class. She had heard every word.

I spent that 40 minute period cringeing. I still cringe when I think about it, almost 14 years later.

I am five feet tall, by the way. I had about an inch, at most, on that teacher.

What a complete bell-end.
(drfeck pissshitfuck, Thu 27 Nov 2008, 20:22, 1 reply)

Dirty joke
I must have been 7 or 8 when I heard what I thought was a very funny joke. So funny that I thought I'd tell my mum, and my dad, and when they told me 'that's not very funny' I thought I'd stand up in class at primary school and tell my teacher and all the pupils.

The joke went like this:
A man goes to a bakery and asks to buy a bum, as he can't say bun. Then he goes to an ironmonger's to buy a fucket, as he can't say bucket. Finally he goes to a watchmakers asking to buy a cock, as he can't say clock. On the way home someone stops him to ask the time. The man says 'Hold my bum and fucket while I get my cock out'.

My teacher wrestled me back to my seat as I got to the bit about the bakery...
(Smale is stuffed, Thu 27 Nov 2008, 20:22, 3 replies)

I don't do going backward...
Off to the shops I hopped into my car, cheerily waving to my next door neighbours who were outside doing some gardening. Upon releasing the handbrake it turns out I hadn't put the car fully into reverse and, being that my drive is on a severe slant leading down to the front of the house, slammed my car into the kitchen wall.

With a quick check in the mirrors to see my neighbours ruefully shaking their heads and with me blushing furiously I tried again only to stall the car having reversed halfway back up the drive and did it again!

It was at this point I thought it would be safer to walk. On the upside the fresh air cooled my burning cheeks quite nicely.
( Gleeballs is mostly made out of chocolate and hate., Thu 27 Nov 2008, 20:20, 1 reply)

I had a meeting yesterday
In a hotel room on the thirteenth floor.
(I'm not a hooker)

Anyway, all was going well until one of the clients asked me "How would you feel if we changed the material for this particular aspect of the product?".

Without really thinking, I casually glanced out at the view, and replied "How would you feel if I threw you out of the window?"

He laughed nervously, and I mumbled "No-it-won't-be-a-problem-sorry".

Whoops.
( Cawl, Thu 27 Nov 2008, 20:19, 6 replies)

my brother told the joke
"what's the only thing harder than nailing a dead baby to a tree?
My cock when I'm doing it"
In the pub. To our mum.
( parttimedogfish is a Born-Again Reincarnationist, Thu 27 Nov 2008, 20:10, 1 reply)

Peaches and scream.
I was in my early twenties, and I was (as so many of my stories start) lusting after a girl. We all do stupid things when we combine unrequited lust with alcohol.

My stupid thing was karaoke. Her favourite pub happened to be staging a karaoke night. She convinces me to sing a song with her and her mate. Never mind that I can make ears bleed at fifty paces with my singing, and never mind that a tune to me is a cough sweet. I agree and we choose a song. We choose that Millions of Peaches song, or whatever it's called.

We chose wrong.

So the three of us take the stage, the two ladies so very kindly falling back to make me centre stage. The song starts and it's some slow, romantic love song. I think - hang on, this doesn't sound right. I look at the screen and some dodgy lyrics about beaches and sunsets show up. Oh shit. I look round, and my partners in crime are nowhere to be seen. I look out into the audience in time to see them disappearing into the crowd. I'm all alone, spotlight on me, completely unable to sing even if I wanted to, and there's some cheesy love song playing. I sheepishly take the mic and say "sorry, wrong song" and shuffle off the stage.
( Damocles wants no part of your debauchery, Thu 27 Nov 2008, 20:09, Reply)

The Office
Surely the most cringe-worthy television sitcom ever made.

Can anyone honestly think of something that makes you cringe more?
(Ginger_Whinger got in the newsletter!! =D, Thu 27 Nov 2008, 20:09, 15 replies)