Watched the first Jackass movie...
Snorted wasabi in work because of it. Eye's pissed burning tears, throat didn't close but definately narrowed. Eventually, they sent me home & I got a disciplinary for it.

All I wanted to do was impress the chef's (read: Bigger boys)
(Dr Fishfinger Want's to see a fat man give a tit wank, Sat 25 Sep 2010, 2:12, Reply)

Makes me shiver thinking about it even now
Early 1980s, I had an hour and a half journey to school each day, each way, and by the time I was 16 studies were starting to get a bit neglected as I discovered the bright lights of the West End and started going to three, four gigs a week. A railway strike gave me an opportunity to hatch a plan. You see, school wouldn't expect me to trudge halfway across South London, would they, so I could just tell my form master that I'd take some stuff home with me and sit it out. if I told my parents I was staying with a friend nearer school, they'd never check up. And there was one of my favourite bands playing at Gossips in Soho on an evening smack bang in the middle of the train strike.

So off I went to school the day before the strike. As it turned out I had actually arranged to stay with a schoolfriend who lived in a huge flat in Central London (but whose parents, curiously, were never, ever around) and who was happy to play along with the plan, off we went to the gig in the evening. The following day my mate, who wasn't quite so much into the whole bunking off thing, went into school, so I found myself mooching around Carnaby Street (very seedy at that time) waiting for another friend who worked nearby to knock off so we could go for a beer.

Enter Mr Plod. There's me, a youngish looking 16-year-old (though one, curiously, who never had problems getting served in pubs) hanging round on a street corner in an unsalubrious part of town, probably looking very out of place. This being the old stop & search days, his conversation opener was to ask me what was in my bag. So out come the books, all clearly marked with the name of my school on them - God knows, I must have decided I'd be doing some studying during my little jaunt - and I knew I was in the shit.

No point in lying, my school's name's on the books, as is my name, the only alternative to 'fessing up to bunking off is to somehow explain what I'm doing with them which would doubtless result in a trip to the station, so the policeman takes all my details, parents' phone number, school details etc. At best I am looking at an absolute bollocking from my parents and being grounded for a very long time, at worst I could be facing expulsion. I'm in deep shit in triplicate.

So I head off towards Charing Cross, where I may find a train or if they're still not running, I can get a bus in the general direction of home, but apprentice pisshead that I am, I decide to stop in a pub in Soho to drown my sorrows a little. I'm sitting there, probably looking pretty fucking sorry for myself, and this guy starts talking to me, asking why I'm looking so down, so I recount my story. Next thing I know, we're round the corner at what at the time I think must have been the Wendy's on Shaftesbury Avenue, now McDonald's (a great loss the day Wendy's quit the UK, by the way), and the guy's bought me a burger and said, you know, if you don't fancy going home to face your parents, you can always crash at mine, and I'm kind of, you know, that might not be such a bad idea, and then...

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU THINKING?"

There's been twice in my life that I've heard those words shouted at me from within my own head, drowning out any other thoughts; the only other time, more recently, was the night before I stopped drinking which, in all probability, saved my marriage and a shitload of other problems. I really can't explain where it comes from, but it's a voice you can't help but listen to and act upon. And if the second time I heard it was a turning point in my life, I'm pretty convinced the first time was, too.

Alarm bells stated ringing in my head. What the fuck was I doing here, with this strange man, who, come to think of it, was making me feel uneasy, though with everything else going through my head, I hadn't really picked up on my intuition. I didn't just need to get home, I needed to get the hell out of here right now.

Well, thank fuck for Routemaster buses is all I can say. The countless times i'd hopped on and off the platform at the back paid off and - shit, it is moving a bit quickly, isn't it - I just managed to get a foot on the boards and a hand round the pole and off down the road I went, my erstwhile benefactor's face blending into the crowd as the bus sped off.

It was a face I remembered, though, and perhaps the glasses had something to do with that. I certainly recognised that face when I saw it on the news a couple of years later, and whenever I hear the name, it sends me cold.

Length? Dennis Nilsen got 25 years, later increased to life. He'll never be paroled.

PS - Just checked his Wikipedia entry for when he was arrested and some of the facts really do make me pause and realise just how lucky I was. The Golden Lion, I'm pretty certain, is the pub. He bought one of his victims a hamburger. Originally, I'm from Scotland, as many of his victims were. Thank fuck I listened to that inner voice (and apologies for lack of funnies)
(Capo, Sat 25 Sep 2010, 1:09, 17 replies)

Really
Trying to read this, now? no chance
(epicsnail Likes working nights, Fri 24 Sep 2010, 23:56, Reply)

Dating my best friend
do I need to say anymore?
(patchsticles Me and you, elbow fetish club:, Fri 24 Sep 2010, 23:30, 4 replies)

"Star Wars is great., but you know what would make it better?"
"Don Quixote and Bugs Bunny."

Reference
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Fri 24 Sep 2010, 21:27, 1 reply)

"I'll have a look at TV Tropes"
"But only a few minutes."
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Fri 24 Sep 2010, 20:34, 1 reply)

"Are you kidding?"
"I'd LOVE to make a Dungeons & Dragons movie!"
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Fri 24 Sep 2010, 20:32, Reply)

I shat myself in Rotherham

( valoukh newsgash.wordpress.com, Fri 24 Sep 2010, 20:27, 6 replies)

Bondi, Sydney, Christmas Day
I'd been in Sydney a couple of months and since I'd discovered that the travelling companion I'd set out with was a complete tool outside of the office environment where we'd previously both worked back in the UK, I was on my own and feeling a bit down. That was when I met Nadine, a lovely Irish lass who was temping at the same company where I'd landed a temp job. Nadine listened to my tale of woe about the wanker I'd set out travelling with and invited me out for a drink with her and her mates.

Nadine had a great set of friends who overlooked my blatant Englishness and adopted me as one of their own. Many great nights out were had and my liver took a terrible caning keeping up. Nadine had a Kiwi boyfriend but told me one night in the pub that he wasn't the one she was going to marry and she flirted with me and I flirted back.

Christmas was approaching and she invited me over to her flat in Bondi as everyone was going down to the beach for a barbecue. Kiwi boyfriend had gone home for Crimbo to see the folks. I turns up at the flat and she's getting ready to go down to the beach. She disappears into her room and comes out in her bikini briefs, clutching a towel over her fairly impressive chest with one hand and a bottle of factor 10 in the other.

"Will you do my back?" she asks. This petite,green-eyed, raven-haired vision turns round exposing a flawless olive-skinned back, christ, she's even got those cute little dimples either side of her spine just above her gorgeous bikini-clad arse.

"Sure," says I, taking the bottle, squirting lotion onto my palm and then rubbing them together to take the cold edge off. I set to work on that flawless back.

I'm massaging away and Nadine is making mmmmmm noises and leaning back against me. I'm gazing over her shoulder into the depths of the most beautiful cleavage I've ever seen. As my hands are moving over her skin the towel she's holding is slipping slowly down the burnished slopes of her beautiful bosom. Dark semi-circles appear as the towel slips lower. My genitals go from DEFCON 4 to DEFCON 2.

"You're really good, I bet you get asked to give massages all the time," she purrs.

My brain whirs, groping blindly for an appropriate response.

"Er, not really. Shouldn't we be heading down to the beach? We won't get a good spot if we don't"

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK!! Stupid, STUPID twat!!

I wouldn't mind but about a month later but she got tipsy in a nightclub and said I'd escort her back to her flat. In the cab she said I could take her back to my place. Her boyfriend was back from Kiwiland so I chivalrously delivered her back to her place.

God I'm such a fucking idiot.
(Dildo Bugger destroyed a ring on, Fri 24 Sep 2010, 19:57, 5 replies)

Yesterday i joined a juggling club
On the sole basis that one of the promoters / jugglers was fit. Time will tell.
(mr-lizard Hell's teeth man!, Fri 24 Sep 2010, 19:56, Reply)

"i bet you i can snort that double vodka!"
turns out i could, but i really wish i hadn't.
much eye-watering, swearing and vomiting ensued.
my nose stung like a bastard, too.
( Smash Monkey lowering the tone of the whole internet, Fri 24 Sep 2010, 19:49, Reply)

Can't read the signs
So I'm 17 and still a virgin. Spent most of the summer between the lower and upper sixth hanging out with a good female friend (who I also fancied the arse off).

We started 'getting off' with each other. Starts with kissing and over a couple of weeks ends up with me making her nipples erect by rubbing them through her t-shirt/bra.

This continued for another week with me still not sure if we were 'going out with each other' and not being too sure if/how to progress.

It culminated with her unbuttoning my trousers and pulling the zip down 'to see what colour boxers you're wearing' and her picking up my hand and pushing it down (through her trousers) onto her mound of venus. I thought the latter must have been the result of a bad aim and so thought no more of it and politely moved my hand away.

The next day I went on holiday with my parents and so didn't see her until school. She was decidedly cool with me and we never did anything together again.

It would be another two years before I finally put my rude bits in a lady.

However I didn't learn. Jump forward a bit and I'm now 27. I go out on a date with a girl I really like. So much that I don't want her to think my only interest in her is sexual. We end up at her place, very pissed, we commence to snog on her sofa etc etc. She put her arms around my neck and whispers to me 'do you want to take me to bed ?'.

I though I was being a gentleman (and a bit sophisticated) by stating 'I don't sleep with people on first dates'. She cooled, I walked home and had a wank. No second date.
(Bitter and Twisted, Fri 24 Sep 2010, 19:36, 9 replies)

on holiday
DO NOT get pissed, feel sorry for the hotel weirdo and give him your address, saying "yeah, let's keep in touch".
bad, bad move.
( Smash Monkey lowering the tone of the whole internet, Fri 24 Sep 2010, 19:32, Reply)

mines probably, dumping the only girl i have ever known to dig 'a' ;-)
(haddock_n_chips, Fri 24 Sep 2010, 18:48, 1 reply)

The only thing in my life I regret NOT doing...
Leaving my wife when I should have done. (Need a QOTW entitled 'when you were spectacularly fucked over for trusting someone')

And now the girl I am totally in love with has moved on.

Apologies for lack of lolz, just felt the need to share...
( ogwen69 has returned from Reddit, Fri 24 Sep 2010, 18:25, 6 replies)

Flippin' The Bird
There was a stage in my youth when I reacted to day-to-day provocations on the street by flipping people off. It's amazing just how angry people get when they've been flipped off! It's even better when the situation prevents them from taking proper revenge.

For example, I was once walking down a sidewalk when I passed the driveway exit to a drive-in restaurant. The driver of a car at the drive-up window saw someone he knew and honked his horn. Angered by the loud horn so close to my ears, I flipped him off. Startled by being flipped off for no apparent reason, the driver revved his engine menacingly. I jumped up and down in front of his car and flipped him off again, this time using both hands. Enraged now, he revved his engine to a deafening whine. It was a true spectacle! But his threat to run me over was meaningless, because his car's path was constrained by the driveway's dimensions and I could always step out of his way. Perfect!

But all good things come to an end. One night, a fellow in a large pickup truck grew frustrated because the little VW Bug I was trying to pilot out of a McDonald's parking lot was blocking the lot's entrance. So, he honked his horn. As I drove onto the street, my friend in the passenger seat rolled down his window and flipped off the pickup's driver. Enraged, the driver gave pursuit.

But this time, we were at a disadvantage. The farther we drove from the McDonald's, the farther out into the country we got. In dark country, the laws of the jungle apply. He menaced us, roared past us, threw his vehicle into reverse, stomped on the accelerator, and crushed in the front of my vehicle, before fleeing from the scene.

But not before we recorded his license plate number. Perhaps we could employ the police to exact justice. The laws of the jungle seemed to apply over there too. The sympathetic police officer looked up the license plate number and, amazingly, gave us enough time to carefully memorize the scofflaw's address. But despite repeated surveillance, the pickup truck never appeared at that address. It's another one of those damned laws of the jungle that, if you can't find your prey, you don't eat.

So, these days, when provoked on the street, I smile on the outside, whimper on the inside, and take my complaints to that confessional of last resort, the Internet.
(Perv With A Dog had his eyes pecked out by scrub jays on, Fri 24 Sep 2010, 18:15, 1 reply)

I accidentally printed two books with swapped covers.
One was on government policy, the other on basic living skills. Now I'm being sued by a group of people with pink shirts, and the government of South Africa.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Fri 24 Sep 2010, 17:37, 4 replies)

Why oh why?
When I was a kid, I loved making noise. My family tried to get me to shut up, but it proved difficult. And then I saw it- the best drum kit ever. I had to have it. We had to put it in the attic, it was a right bitch to get up there. Trouble is, I can't use it at all now, what with hiding from the Nazis.

Yours,

Anne Frank.
( jim_bob can herd cats., Fri 24 Sep 2010, 17:12, 6 replies)

No, don't leave, I really like you.
Several years ago I went on one of those 'university sports tours' which the Daily Mail uses as an example of society disintegrating.

After the first night out I and a few others end up back an apartment shared by several ladies from our uni with whom we were fairly well acquainted. One of these ladies was an attractive young sort who shall be known as C. C had partaken in a few to many Sambucas and had decided to have a little cry about lady problems such as the price of shoes, menstruation and her mothers terminal illness*, you know the sort of shit bitches moan about.

Being the nice guy I am, I suggested going for a walk, as I dont imagine blubbering like a mong in front of a bunch of friends and acquaintances improves ones street cred. After a little walk to McDonalds she had calmed down a bit and I suggested (purely platonically at this point) we go back to mine, as I have some booze there. She agreed and we wander back to the same hotel, but down the corridor to mine for a cheeky shandy. Having had her cry and moan, she seemed to perk up a wee bit. We had a started having a bit of a laugh, while we watched late night Spanish telly, we had a good gossip about mutual friends and the mood lifted. As we chatted and shared our burgers while drinking some cheep Mediterranean booze, the cogs in my drink addled head started to turn.

Me, a pretty lady, drink, laughter, in my room, late at night...

SEX!!! I'm going to get laid! AWEfuckinSOME!

I played it cool, kept the conversation lite, we joked about how I had seen her left tit earlier in the day while she was adjusting herself. I was like Casanova and James Bond's bastard son with added eye glint and a bulge in my trousers that would intimidate a prize stallion. I wasn't normally this lucky with women, so just being in the same room as one was like foreplay. She was telling me how funny, nice and lovely I am, I was fucking in, I could almost taste it. Back of the net. Although as is so often the case, the path of true love did not run smoothly.

From cruising along happily at 10,000 ft direct to Pootangville, my flight was suddenly hit by turbulence. The pilot warned of a possible unscheduled stop and Haveawankandacry International Airport if conditions did not improve.

"I'd best get back now" She said with a caring and sincere smile.

"Oh" I replied.

"Thanks for tonight, you are so wonderful"

She kissed me on the cheek and went for the door. It was now or never, if I didnt act, the only filet'o'fish I would be eating would be the leftovers in the kitchen.

"I really like you!" I blurted. "I have done for ages."

"Oh" Her cheery smile was replaced by extreme awkwardness.

"You are great, but, I'm just not ready for anything like that. Blah blah blah, platitude platitude, generic heartbreaking letdown etc."

Only it wasn't a heartbreaking letdown, I didn't really give a toss about this girl, but now I was all but telling her I loved her. I had only said it in a last ditch effort to get my end away. I was stuck, I couldn't turn it around and say, 'Only kidding, I just wanted to boink you. I dont even like you that much.'

Of course personal epic failures like this do not stay private for very long. For the rest of the week I was subject to pity and ridicule in equal measure and any attempt at explaining my actions as a drunken, lustful Hail Mary, were met with deep cynicism.

*This isn't true before anyone declares an online Jihad against me, she was crying about an ex-boyfriend. I just said it for teh lulz.
(Bam Bam McPenis will change all this when he is fuhrer., Fri 24 Sep 2010, 16:33, 3 replies)

Working in a pub
Before I started Uni, I decided to do a summer job for beer tokens, and as I was an experienced man when it came to the emptying of a pint glass, I thought I would see how I did at filling them up. And it seemed I did rather well.

The bar I worked in was part of a leisure complex (owned by a company that rhymes with "Shaven") and as I was poor and wanted more money, I worked long day shifts from 11am going on until 1 or 2 am when the main bar closed.

During this time I became friends with one of the lifeguards from the nearby swimming pool - let's call him Steve (for 'twas his name). Steve was 18, blonde and like me waiting for the first year at uni. He was also in the county swimming team and drop. dead. gorgeous. Yes, I had a complete crush on him. Anyhoo, he would always come into the bar for his break, and we'd have a chat and grab some food. We became really close mates. We used to go swimming together on our days off and so on and so forth...

Steve and I had our last day of work at the park on the same day. We finished at 5pm and proceeded to get absolutely shiftaced. It's like getting shitfaced but you are so drunk you cannot even spell in your head properly. At about 11ish, Steve looks at me and says "Carrot, there's something I want to tell you. I'm gay and I've fancied you from the first day I met you. I'm sorry if you aren't gay or I've offended you, but if you want you could come back to my place for a couple more drinks."

And he kisses me.

And I freak out.

And run away.

Excuse me, I'm just off to cram my fist into my mouth, rock backwards and forwards and whimper at my own entire stupidity. Never saw him again.

Length? Well it was quite impressive in his trunks...
( Undercovercarrot got done for gross misconduct on..., Fri 24 Sep 2010, 16:27, 2 replies)

when doing the washing, never mix your whites with the colours!
www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-wiltshire-11407516
(Anne Frank started to build a loft conversion on, Fri 24 Sep 2010, 15:53, 5 replies)

Fell in love.

( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Fri 24 Sep 2010, 15:39, 8 replies)

When I was 17
I had been chatting to a girl I met through a friend for a while and one day arrange to meet her in town for a bit of shopping and generally hang out. AFter visiting whatever shops she and I needed to she suggested we go back to hers as noone was in, being an innocent young TaZ I say yeah sounds good.

We gets to her house and she puts some music on and I raid her CD collection decided she had quite decent taste with the occasional awful band which is to be expected. After a while of chatting about music and other things I'm using her computer while she does something or other and she says "don't go routing through my folders there's some naughty pictures I don't want you seeing" "of course not hunny" I said (mistake number 1)

Then a little while later she says "don't look over, I'm just changing my bra this one's annoying me" "of course not hunny" I says...

I regret never looking through her pictures or at her to this day, damn my innocence and naivety. We slowly drifted apart only for her to tell me about a year later after losing contact for a while that she thought I was too nice for not sneaking a look and that things would've been alot different if I'd have had some balls. Oh if only she knew me now =[
(TaZ44, Fri 24 Sep 2010, 15:38, 6 replies)

Really cold survival trip
I was on a survival camping trip for my highschool's Outdoor Education class. It was one of those 2 day long trips where you only have to survive 1 night out in the woods, in groups of 2. You were allowed to bring a lighter (a couple lighters), a knife, some light snacks, bog roll, a few luxuries, and mild weather clothing. As it was April we were expecting mild spring weather (pro-tip: don't "expect" warm weather here in Canada). With mild spring weather come plenty of mosquitos coming back to life after a long winter, so one of our luxuries was a large can of bug spray. More on this later.

We had been instructed on how to build shelters, on how to collect water, on how to avoid nasty animals, on where to place the fire to keep warm, etc. The groups were dropped off in 1/2km intervals so you didn't exactly get to choose your area for the night. My mate and I got stuck in an area between a cliff face, roughly 30 feet high, and a lake, with about 50 feet of flat ground between the two, all soaking wet moss (comfy, but no insulation, wet, and full of bugs/pests).

We found a perfect flat outcropping about 10 feet up the cliff which was easy enough to climb to, but difficult enough to access that it would keep us safe from any pesky bears, etc. It was rock so we could lay down a base to keep us comfy and warm, and had a tree growing off the edge which would give us something to stack our wall against.

We set forth building our nice warm shelter with some decent sized logs and a fair bit of work, it took a few hours but we were looking forward to the trip and having a blast so it didn't phase us. We finished with enough time to eat our snacks and collect plenty of firewood for the night, but having done all these, we started to get bored.

The fire was placed directly at the foot of the shelter as it allows the heat to cycle into the shelter, but the roof isn't solid enough to keep harmful smoke in, etc. As long as the fire keeps burning, you should be relatively comfortable. The mild spring weather didn't pan out, it ended up dropping to a, not so bad if you're prepared for it, -10 degrees celcius, and we weren't prepared for it. But still, fire is burning well, we're having a good time, let's have some fun before we go to bed.

This is where my bad idea comes into play. I turn to my mate, mention that as it's ball-freezing cold out we won't be getting bothered by mosquitos that night, let's see what happens if we chuck the bug spray into the fire. He chuckles, pulls out the camera on his phone (back in the 0.3MP days) and we hide behind a large rock on the cliff after I've placed (tossed) the nearly full (pressurized aerosol) can in the middle of our decent sized fire.

The blast sent a 10 foot fireball hurtling straight up in the air, blew our fire and firewood off the cliff and scattered across the wet ground, sent embers flying everywhere, and set our shelter ablaze. Luckily, the canopy of the evergreen tree on our perch didn't catch, but the leaves were singed by the blast and rained down embers for the 20 minutes we spent fetching water from the lake and salvaging whatever parts of our shelter we didn't have to kick down onto the wet ground below. This happened around midnight.

The rest of the night was spent running around in the dark collecting what was left of firewood in the area to try and keep a proper fire going so we wouldn't die of hypothermia. When we were collected the next day, the other groups camped 2-3kms away mentioned the blast had woke them.

Apologies for length, my mate didn't complain when we were spooning for warmth.
(Turtlenuts, Fri 24 Sep 2010, 15:38, Reply)

That Man Wants You
Was in pub in Manchester in 1998-ish, enjoying a pint or few before getting the train back home.

Bloke walks up to my table, sits down opposite me. Smartly dressed but clearly pissed, with a face like Davros on a bad day. He's got a pint of Kronenbourg and a double whisky with him.

Something about him disturbs me and I smile nervously. He gives me an appraising look and seems to be trying to chew his own teeth.

I'm about to get up and get away from this weirdo when he speaks.

'Alright cock. Can ye play the fuckin' guitar y'cunt?'

I shake my head. 'No,' I reply nervously but truthfully.

He takes a long pull at his pint whilst staring at me from over the top of it. 'S'alright. Do y'wanna be in my band?'

By now quite scared, I shake my head again, make my excuses and leave.

What a fucking, FUCKING idiot.
(Dr Skagra glorious glargzhem, Fri 24 Sep 2010, 15:05, 4 replies)

Monday night.....

"He's in Iraq" she said

"He's out there for six months" she said

"I haven't had sex for two months" she said

"I feel like a god-damn virgin" she said

"Take me back to yours, I know it's just round the corner" she said



"No" I said.
( Mister B is eating an icanhazcheezburger with lmaonaise, Fri 24 Sep 2010, 14:39, 21 replies)

I have quite a few from when I was a teenager
One was my choice of schoolbag when I was 13 - I went for one designed for a small child. It had pockets on the side with embroidered pencils, pens and crayons on it. I thought everyone would think it was hilarious, but I didn't realise that ironic clothing and accessories should be off the cards until at least the sixth form. Particulary for boys.

Another was a couple of years later when a scary lunatic and his friends at told me to "shut the fuck up" when I was practicing the piano in the school assembly hall. (I know). I didn't stop, I said "Hey Mikee, gotta practice!" in an American accent and played the hornpipe.
( browser still relating boring anecdotes into a void on, Fri 24 Sep 2010, 13:51, 3 replies)

I really should know better.
I was helping a friend of mine clear some brush from his land, including a stand of bamboo. We had piled a load of brush in a clear area and had a merry little fire going onto which we threw the shrubs and branches and whatnot that we had cut down. Then we threw on a load of green bamboo with the rest of the branches.

Did you know that those chambers inside bamboo are actually pretty airtight? Did you know that putting it into a fire while green would result in steam pressure building up inside those chambers until they burst? Did you know that a large piece of bamboo can produce explosions sufficient to hurl chunks of fire in all directions so that you have to simultaneously dodge and try to put out a dozen small fires that have suddenly sprung up all around you?

Well, I fucking do now.
( Wanderer, Fri 24 Sep 2010, 13:47, 3 replies)