I suggested a topic for an internet forum to post amusing anecdotes about.
Then someone pointed out it had been done a year before I joined. Blimey, I don't think I'll ever live that down.
( BraynDedd Natasha Kaplinsky's labia majora, Sun 19 Aug 2012, 15:45, 6 replies)

I was young and I meant well.
That's my defence for one of the more excruciating experiences of my life. I was in a supermarket queue, being served by a young man with apparent learning difficulties and boss-eyes - 'one eye looking at you, one eye looking for you', as my nan used to say.

Being young and well-meaning, I was extremely conscious of not treating this young man any differently because of his crossed eyes, slurred speech and occasional twitch. Indeed, I fairly brimmed with the over-riding need to appear friendly and approachable. So when the young man addressed me, I couldn't wait to reward him with a dazzling smile and immediate response.

'You busy today?' he asked as he scanned my goods. 'Oh no!' I said brightly, 'after this I'm going straight home to put on my dinner and sit in front of the telly!' He gave me a bit of a look through his thick glasses. I smiled sweetly. There was a pause. 'You busy today?' he asked again, this time more pointedly, his head shaking a bit. Poor lamb, I thought. 'No,' I said, more loudly and clearly, 'I'm going to cook my dinner and watch a bit of telly. Not much on tonight!' and I gave a short laugh to emphasise the general relaxed nature of the evening.

There was a longer pause, during which I thought I could detect a look of awkwardness on the young man's face. Nonetheless, I pressed on, buoyed by my goodness and generosity of spirit. "How about you?" I asked, meaningfully. "Are you busy today? You certainly look busy! Ha ha ha!' He didn't respond; he just looked in my direction, his head shaking slightly as he scanned another item of shopping,

'How's Tony?' he eventually asked, speaking rather loudly (almost desperately) for someone who was in such close proximity to me. Oh dear, I thought. They really shouldn't have put him on the till if he's not... all there. 'Oh, well, I don't know Tony', I replied slowly, still smiling, as if to a simple child. 'He's fine,' said the woman in the queue behind me, the woman this poor man had been trying to converse with for the past few minutes, the woman who was now forced, in the nicest possible way, to ignore and talk over me in order to bring a halt what I suddenly realised was an excruciating moment for all concerned.

They continued their conversation as I, head down and cheeks crimson, tried desperately to pack my bags in the most nonchalant way possible for someone who was burning with shame. The shame I feel now... Oh god, the shame...!!
(MrsP, Sun 19 Aug 2012, 15:22, 5 replies)

I was in the Anne Frank museum in Amsterdam
and half way through the tour, needed a shit. So I found the bogs and sat down in readiness for a relaxing time. Then I noticed, on the wall next to me, someone had drawn a swastika in blue biro.

And written "Nazis rule" next to it.

I was a little bit shocked but at the same time rather impressed with the bravado.

I rejoined my mate and told him there was something I had to show him, and took him (under protest) to the bogs.

On proudly presenting him with the piece of graffiti in question his face turned black with rage and he screamed, "YOU INSENSITIVE FUCKING CUNT!" and punched me in the stomach.

I collapsed and the next thing I knew I was being manhandled off the premises by two burly security guards (oh the irony).

The rest of the holiday was ruined as my mate would not believe that I wasn't the culprit, and probably still doesn't, the stupid twat.

The feeling of absolute and utter shame and gut-churning embarrassment as I was led out past the people in the museum is something I will NEVER forget, despite my complete innocence.

PS. Amsterdam well worth a visit, for the Anne Frank museum, sex museum and Heineken brewery tour where you can get shit faced for 10p.
(Dr Skagra glorious glargzhem, Sun 19 Aug 2012, 15:20, 18 replies)

I once mistook one person for another.
Then I mistook this event for an anecdote.

Whadda mistake-a to make-a!
( Dr. Shambolic je suis charlie, Sun 19 Aug 2012, 10:57, 4 replies)

Flippancy and shallowness
are things I tend to avoid, but I still love b3ta!
(roysin, Sun 19 Aug 2012, 10:40, 4 replies)

I once was on the train to Scarborough to visit a friend
And true to form was reading a book to while away the time. I was sitting in one of the uppermost pair of seats in the carriage, and at one point had to retire to squeeze a kidney. The carriage being quite quiet, I left the book on my chair. Upon returning, I saw two girls apparently sitting where I'd been. Two, pretty seventeen y/o-ish girls.

"Where's my book?" I asked, all self-righteous. "I don't mind you sitting there if you thought it was empty, but I left my book there!"

Surprised, they looked up at me like I was mental.

"Look, I left my book there just now when I went to the toilet! Where is it?" I demanded.

At the moment, I looked at the seats behind. Which is where my book was. Because that's where I'd been sitting. I slumped down onto my seat and endured them trying to stifle their laughter until the train pulled up.
(McChinaman banned, Sun 19 Aug 2012, 10:03, 2 replies)

I had suicidal depression.
Oh my God, I literally wanted to die!.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Sun 19 Aug 2012, 9:37, 26 replies)

Since this is the "lazy persons" qotw.
b3ta.com/questions/tactless/post1418716
(Misery McUglywife an attention seeking sociopathic fuckstain., Sun 19 Aug 2012, 9:02, Reply)

Olympic Standard, May 2000
An old friend from days of yore had lobbed into town and I'd taken the day off work to drive her around to see the sights. We stopped for lunch at a small cafe. A man alone at the next table looked familiar from behind, but I didn't quite recognise him. I sat directly behind him.

After a few minutes Glynis asked me if I was going to the Sydney Olympics.

The ticket prices and conditions of entry had just been published and I took a real dislike to the restrictions. I gave her my opinion of them at length, including that I thought the organisers were a mob of control freaks who wanted to treat paying customers like sheep. Or was it "like shit"? Shit, sheep, who cares?

I didn't notice the man at the next table get up and leave, but a few minutes later I saw him again in a newsagency.

It was Robert de Castella, gold medallist in the marathon at the 1982 and 1986 Commonwealth Games and fifth at the 1984 Olympic Marathon. He competed in four straight Olympics. Until 1995 he had been the Director of the Australian Institute of Sport and was probably up to his neck in organising the Sydney 2000 Olympics.

Bloody Glynis had known all along.
(Redemption blamed it on the Bossa Nova since, Sat 18 Aug 2012, 23:12, 2 replies)

Sometimes my life feels like that of a character in a mediocre sitcom
My wife and me were on the way back from a party getting a lift from a married couple we consider to be good friends.

I was pretty pissed.

We were talking about our respective bucket lists. The husband asked, "how about you, bierbelly... Anything you really want to do?"

I thought myself really witty and replied: "your wife!"

I hoped they'd see the funny side. They didn't. Awkward.
.
( bierbelly, Sat 18 Aug 2012, 19:06, 18 replies)

Bolton!
When I was a kid, we would visit my cousin’s house down in Bolton from time to time. One day, while down there, we all went to this park which had a mini zoo and a fairly big adventure play ground type thing.

I was happily running round like a loon then climbed to the top of fort, I looked down and seen my cousin playing in a sand pit as he was a few years younger than me.

I decided to run full pelt towards him, grab his shoulders and make a loud noise similar to that a Wookie would make if he had wiped his arse with a chilli toilet paper.

He turns around and I realise he is not my cousin, and his mother had been sat on the bench watching the whole thing. I think my exact words were “wrong kid” and I span around and ran off.
(pandaparty, Sat 18 Aug 2012, 18:12, 6 replies)

Supermarket shennanigans
Whilst queuing at the supermarket tills, I wanted to privately relay a message to my friend. Not wishing to be overheard I typed the message out on my phone and handed it to her.

She then proceeded to read aloud, with the concentration and diction of a 5-year old struggling with new words: "THE. PEOPLE. BEHIND. US. STINK. OF. BOOZE. I. THINK. THEY. MIGHT. BE. GYPSIES."
(R. Jimlad twitter.com/sirmarkymark, Sat 18 Aug 2012, 18:07, 59 replies)

Ultraviolet shame
At a goth party, I spotted an old friend standing in the "chill" area, which was lit with black light.

As usual, the light was displaying all the fluff and cigarette ash on all the black clothing and, amusingly to me, the patchiness of my friend's foundation. She is generally a very au naturelle sort of person, so this amused me unreasonably.

Since we're old friends and have a fairly open, rough line of banter between us, I remark that it's funny the things you don't notice in regular light, making pointy gestures at my face.

My friend wore a brittle smile and said something I could not quite hear over the Sisters of Mercy.

Thinking my observation skills unimpeachable, I blathered: "I said I don't think your makeup was intended to be worn under UV!"

She pulled me closer and said calmly into my suddenly burning ear: "I'm not wearing makeup, it's damage from radiation therapy."

"Oh, well, actually that makes it kind of cool in a weird way..." but my quivering shame weakened this rally and she patted me, not unkindly.
(Ladyfingers is in your wardrobe,, Sat 18 Aug 2012, 17:47, 1 reply)

The time I most wanted to die. Ever.
In the late 80's I went to a slightly rough school in Newton Abbot ,in Devon. There was a science block, in this school, which consisted of two labs with a small prep room/office sandwiched between them, this room having doors at each end to either lab. This block was taught in by two teachers who had a small, blonde lab assistant to aid them. Now, whenever you had a lesson in that block, at some point, the teachers would all vanish into that prep room, with the assistant, and reemerge a few minutes later, pissing themselves laughing. Without fail. Anyhoo, I changed schools and went elsewhere.
In the 90's, I returned to that school to do an evening course and in our class, there were about twenty people. One day, in part of a health & safety lesson, the teacher brought up that the school had recently built new science block. Me being a cheeky 20 year old loudmouth instantly blurts out something like:

'Did they put in that inbetween room for the teachers, only we all thought that they used to go in there to have it off with the blonde woman that set up the experiments!'

The teacher looked at the floor gestured towards another member of the class and said

"Yeah, that's Brian's wife...'

I still cringe.
( The Togaboy The world will end on, Sat 18 Aug 2012, 15:57, 3 replies)

Not so much what I said.
I was walking along and saw an attractive woman walking towards me. Feeling reckless I didn't disguise that fact I looked her up and down approvingly -- I won't go as far as saying I leered but there was some lingering gazing going on.
The thing about me is that my facial recognition doesn't kick in until I've taken a really good look at somebody's face. In this case I was concentrating on the lycra-clad hips.
I was a little taken aback to say the least when the attractive young woman said my name! I then recalled she happened to be my brother's wife's sister. Thankfully she's somewhat famous and used to people staring at her so she was able to carry on a polite conversation as if nothing happened.
I really ought to ensure I don't know girls before perving.
(Me, I'm not... in any way intoxicated, Sat 18 Aug 2012, 15:09, 10 replies)

I was in the pub with some friends a few weeks ago when the topic somehow got onto Thatcher and somebody mentioned her Alzheimer's which gave me the great idea of piping out "She also has Alzheimer's." It becomes less funny if you had a relative who recently died from it, or so I'm told.
(Mikethfc, Sat 18 Aug 2012, 13:47, 7 replies)

Oh dear. I dun a woopsie...
I was doing a software pitch to a room full of around 20 senior execs from Legal and General. It was in their conference suite, and there was a sliding partition wall between us and the next room, where I could hear a computerised voice which was putting me off my stride. Sounded like they were playing around with some voice software. It put me off a bit mid-sentence and I said, "sorry, I'm getting distracted, sounds like we've got a Dalek next door hahaha"

Long stony silence...

"Actually that is our Chairman, he has had throat cancer and uses a voice box"

We didn't win the contract.
( Three Dog Man, Sat 18 Aug 2012, 8:50, 8 replies)

Don't mention the...
A German friend Jurgen mailed me to say he was coming over to London from Munich for the week with some work colleagues.

'Where's a good pub to meet?' he asked when he finally rang
'where are you staying?' I asked
'Kensington'
Quickly thinking of pubs near their tube stop, 'Let's go to Churchills on Kensington Church St - the beer's good and they do Thai food. See you in half an hour' was my reply

'Ach ja, we like your famous Englisch sense of humour' they greeted me, as I found them sat under an enormous portrait of dear old Winston himself as I walked in

They're good sports the Jerries
(lazyman, Sat 18 Aug 2012, 2:22, 2 replies)

Knowing when to stop talking
A new lady friend and I were chatting over the phone just getting to know a bit about each other. The conversation turned to family and she got upset and explained that her twin brother had died two years ago from alcoholism related problems. I felt really sorry for her and she said she was trying to move on with her life but it was difficult. I didn't really know what to say so I let out a sigh and said "Well, life goes on......or doesn't in some cases".... Silence and then 'click' as she hung up . I cringe about it to this day.
(Mugabe's Philtrum, Fri 17 Aug 2012, 22:28, Reply)

No idea where this came from
I was down in Brighton, just having a good night out. I was on the seafront enjoying a pavement dinner when a group of Irish lads asked approached.

"'Scuse me, mate. Where's a good place to go out round here?" the lead asked
"Well, the best clubs are under the arches on the beach. The cheap slags are up West Street, but the chances of a beating are increased exponentially." I reply.
"We're up for it, no bother there." he says.
"But if you wanted to blow up the Grand Hotel, it's just down there." says I.

It's a good thing they found it funny. I have no idea where it came from.
(Rilux might be pregnant and has bum-aids, Fri 17 Aug 2012, 22:19, Reply)

I almost got away with it.
I was chatting to the female half of a nice young professional couple who had just moved in next door. She had taken in a parcel for me and I was reclaiming it, trying to act like a normal person - chit chat and not being a complete tit, that sort of thing. I was apologising in advance for the amount of noise that our two kids make, trying to make it sound like I was joking, before the subject moved on to jobs. Her partner was a surgeon and she worked at Great Ormand Street Hospital. "Oh right", I trilled, "so you'll be used to the sound of crying children."
(Naich, Fri 17 Aug 2012, 21:00, 2 replies)

Open wide...
I'm a dentist, and one of the things you quickly learn is to warn your patient before you use that little handpiece that puffs compressed air, otherwise they tend to jump. I usually do this by saying "Blow dry!" first. One afternoon after a long shift at the NHS coalface my mind must have been wandering, because I said "Blow job!" instead. The patient was lovely, and pretended not to notice, but the nurse that I work with had to leave the room because she was laughing so much.
(dignut, Fri 17 Aug 2012, 19:30, Reply)

I once made up a story for a QOTW answer
and then accidentally posted the fact that I'd made it up in a QOTW called 'Foot in Mouth Syndrome II'
( dogfish, Fri 17 Aug 2012, 16:43, 3 replies)

In the pub the other Friday...
...with a load of other web developers, and the conversation turns to WordPress. As an aside, the more drunk a shell (for that is the only suitable collective noun I can think of) of web developers becomes, the more technical (and less comprehensible generally) the content we argue about becomes.

Now, WordPress is a decent enough blogging system, but there are certain "developers" who use it for everything they build, and WORDPRESS IS NOT DESIGNED FOR ECOMMERCE, despite what the plugins say.

So, after my rather long rant about developers who do this, culminating in the phrase "any developer uses WordPress for ecommerce is a moron and needs a career change", one of the group quietly pipes up to say they, in fact, specialise in building ecommerce websites with WordPress.
(retrac fumble in the jungle, Fri 17 Aug 2012, 16:36, 4 replies)

I once opened a conversation with a patient on a burns unit with 'It's warm on here innit? You must be cooked'.

( Amorous Badger NAKED BEA ARTHUR PHOTOS 4U, Fri 17 Aug 2012, 15:54, 37 replies)

Why, oh why do I say what is on my mind sometimes?
I work in a bike shop, and on the odd occasion, we get rather attractive young ladies come in. My boss I would like to point out, would shag a fag burn in a fur coat, so often he deals with such lovely ladies. I digress.

One day a young ladies brings a bike in to be fixed. The bike is duly fixed and the young lady in question comes in to pick up said bicycle. We have to take the bicycles up some stairs to the exit of the building (health and safety stuff). I take the bicycle upstairs for her. She bends over and I *happened* to notice her bottom had a nice shape.
Quite why I decided to mention this fact to someone else who worked there, I do not know, but I did.

Turns out to be his 17year old daughter....I got away with it only because my face was so funny. Apparently.
(salsarider79 has eaten a violin and talks in music, Fri 17 Aug 2012, 15:48, Reply)

No weddings and a funeral
I didn't want to be there, I hate funerals with a passion as they are truly tedious affairs where there is a lot of droning on and on by the priest and various people doing readings.

I don't do well in situations where I have to sit in one spot for an extended period of time just listening to someone spout out stuff I care little about. My boredom threshold had already been reached within minutes of the service starting and I was doing everything I could to stifle a huge yawn and keep my eyes open. I had to do something so reached into the inside pocket of the jacket I was wearing and pulled out my mobile phone, a game or two of snake would help me out here. I should mention this event happened when smartphones were still just a twinkle in Jobsworth's eye so I was using a Nokia phone.

Just before firing up a game I noticed the tiny envelope icon flashing away telling me I had a text message waiting, it had been sent after I had entered the church so I decided to read it to help waste a little more time.

This was a mistake.

Turned out it was a joke sent by a friend, I knew it was by the time I had finished reading the first line but my brain was so numb with boredom that I couldn't stop myself from continuing. I flicked down a couple of pages and got to the punch line and to this day I swear I tried to hold in the laugh. I really did.

It came out as a loud splutter of someone trying to contain their mirth, a raspberry of laughter you could say. I hunched over and covered my mouth with one hand to stop any further noise but the damage was done.

I managed to get myself under control in short order and when I looked up I could sense the atmosphere in the church had changed. I was later told that my sudden onset of laughter happened just as a reading had finished and the church was silent while the next reader was heading to the plinth.

It was deathly quiet and it seemed every pair of eyes in the church was looking in my direction. I knew my time there was done but it seemed I hadn't quite finished making a fool of myself yet. This church was very large, one that could easily seat around 300 people and I was sat just several rows from the front by the centre aisle. This meant I had about a twenty meter walk before I got to the doors at the back. I stood up and with phone in hand I raised it and said "text message" like that would explain everything.

I then headed down the aisle in that hurrying yet trying not to look like I'm hurrying walk, the looks on peoples faces as I went past each row varied from shock, pity, disappointment and anger.

I didn't stick around upon exiting the building.
(ParaSitius is an Optimistic Pessimist, Fri 17 Aug 2012, 15:29, 18 replies)

dead man's chair
Some family friends of the missus's lost a young husband/father (careless I know)who we all knew as Jez. So obviously when I'm round there house and the missus goes to sit down I say; "Don't sit there that's Jeremie's chair!" totally out of the blue and for no particular reason.

Turns out that was his real name and I felt like an utter cunt.
(Shamelesspendant Better dead then smeg., Fri 17 Aug 2012, 15:07, 2 replies)

Drove home
to my student house, but couldn't get into the drive because some twat in a Beemer had parked across it. I parked down the road, walked into the house in a huff and walked into the kitchen, where I said "Some twat in a Beemer's parked right across our fucking drive."

"Yeah, that's me." said our landlord from behind the washing machine he was fixing.
(cypherspace is not a toaster, Fri 17 Aug 2012, 14:24, Reply)