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This is a question Guilty Laughs

Are you the kind of person who laughs when they see a cat getting run over? Tell us about the times your sense of humour has gone beyond taste and decency.

Suggested by SnowyTheRabbit

(, Thu 22 Jul 2010, 15:19)
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This question is now closed.

Real life comedy sketch
Seeing a woman actually fall up(!) a set of stairs in a department store, to then stumble around ten metres forward and fall head first into a big display bringing it crashing down to the floor amidst a shopful of concerned members of the public. Except me that is, who swiftly left the store wetting myself.

Totally surreal and I still can't comprehend it to this day.
(, Tue 27 Jul 2010, 17:56, Reply)
The one-armed woman on CBeebies
brings out a welter of emotions in me.

For one, her arm doesn't end neatly at the elbow but has a couple of twitching, vestigial fingers that you can see probing the limits of their skin-flap... *shiver*

Wrong of me to be grossed out, I know, but it is what it is.

What always makes me laugh (guiltily) though is that the producers have clearly been briefed to re-enforce the idea that lacking a limb is not in any way restrictive. So they constantly have the poor woman playing charades (badly) and making things (badly) etc. I'm just waiting for the day when they give her chopsticks.

Plus, I really want to like her but she's sooo feeble and patronising and inane. Like that short-arsed non-entity of a co-presenter she usually teams up with.

Perhaps they'll get run over? We shall see.
(, Tue 27 Jul 2010, 17:07, 22 replies)
Pizzas and old ladies
Recent trip to the supermarket (Asdaaaaaaaaa, if you must know)

At that place that makes those pizzas that you can choose the toppings for - the slightly less unhealthy junk.
I go towards the counter pick up the most fattening pepperoni choked thing I can find, and turn around to head back to the trolley.

But no.

My fingers decided they didn't want to grip properly, so spinning quickly as I do, super pizza(*) flies out of my hand, straight into face of adorable old lady trundling slowly past the strange sounding/smelling cheeses..

Followed by me trying not to cause reason for a "Caution - Wet floor" sign to be placed where I stand with the laughter

Then I realise "What about the old 'un?"
After the clingfilm on the pizza detached from her face (taking half her makeup - I hadn't the heart to tell her), I expected a royal bollocking, as she looks quite a lot like my Nan

But no. (Again)
She laughs louder than me!

So i scramble for the slightly dolled up pizza on the floor, giggle a few "sorrys" ("sorry's?) and trundle off as far as I possibly can, until I see her on the bus stop later, one half of her face looking like a sweet old lady, the other looking like a fresh off the job granny hooker thanks to the pizza.

I must have pulled something laughing like that!

(*) Yes, Super Pizza.

Apologies for any length - I'm still new to this...
(, Tue 27 Jul 2010, 16:52, 2 replies)
when someone
gets on the bus, and the bus driver floors it before theyve found a seat.

always funny.
(, Tue 27 Jul 2010, 16:33, 3 replies)
Unlucky in love
Since divorcing my mum, my dad – now in his fifties - hasn’t had much luck on the dating front. While this is in part down to his taste in unsuitable women – in short, anything with a pulse – he’s not been helped by a tendency to propose to anyone who can put up with him for three dates or more.

But last summer, Dad finally seemed to have struck lucky. He met a lovely lady (let’s call her Sharon) on the internet. They both liked motorbikes, shared a similar taste in appalling jokes, and generally got on like a house on fire.

Nevertheless, Dad decided to ‘take this one slow’. Sharon – just out of a rough relationship herself – agreed. However, they soon fell deeply in love. While Dad usually had little to say on the phone to me, now he was happy to talk about himself and Sharon and seemed truly content. Certain that she was the one, he bought a wedding ring and prepared to pop the question around Christmas time.

Sadly, he never got the chance. At the beginning of December, Sharon went to the doctor complaining of a pain in her stomach. Bowel cancer was diagnosed, and Sharon was operated on almost immediately. However, the disease had spread too far. Tragically, by the end of the month Sharon had passed away.

My dad takes most things in his stride, but he was genuinely heartbroken. One minute he had been thinking of marrying this woman – the next he was at her funeral.

The day after Sharon was laid to rest, I called to see how dad was getting on. He confessed that he didn’t really know where to turn now, not least as everything had happened so quickly.

“I can’t believe she’s gone,” he told me. “It was only about a month ago that we told each other that we’d like to spend the rest of our lives together.”

He paused for a second. And then, brightening somewhat, he added:

“Well, I suppose she did do that really.”

At which, I almost pissed myself.
(, Tue 27 Jul 2010, 16:22, 11 replies)
I see deaf people...
I can't help it....
I'm a sick man.....
send me to hell....

But I laugh (uncontrollably) at the way deaf people speak.

The episode in Glee where the deaf kids sing Imagine, oh how I laughed.

or the time I worked at the Disability Rights Commission, I always left meetings with a contorted face, trying to hold the laugh in.

I even know how to sign - this doesn't make it better, I'm truly a bad man.

Worst of all (and this does send me to the 5th circle of hell) was the time I pretended to be a deaf person...

I was in this pub that had a very strange queuing rule - a straight line that started at the centre of the bar and worked its way through the pub, each side of this queue were empty bar spaces. So I staggered up to one of these empty bar spaces, without any consideration for the queue and proceeded to wait there until the barmaid asked me what I would like to drink.

During this waiting period, some patron was shouting at me "the queue is here mate" etc etc. This went on for some time, until this idiot came over, tapped me on the shoulder and said..

"Are you deaf or what? the queue for drinks is back there not here!"
I immediately turned around and in a deaf person's voice/accent said "Sorry I can't hear you, I'm deaf". The look on the guys face (as I also accompanied the statement with sign language) was priceless.
(, Tue 27 Jul 2010, 15:25, 2 replies)
I laughed when A Vagabond deleted his homophobic post.

(, Tue 27 Jul 2010, 14:32, 53 replies)
Like a little shitty schoolboy
A good friend and I were performing a perambulation along one of the many tree-lined avenues that are only found in the better areas of our nation's capital. On our way to the pub, and such like.

I noticed, as I had done before, a lady walking in the road itself - outside of parked cars. She had one of those foldable white walking sticks, which blind people are known to use, stretched out in front of her, tracing out the ground ahead of her as she walked.

I remarked to my companion as to the inherent danger of her position. And what did he do? 'BRRRRRR, BRRRRRRR, BRRRRRRRUUUUMMM!'

The poor woman jumped. I laughed
(, Tue 27 Jul 2010, 13:45, Reply)
Greedy Piggies!
A few years back I was serving with the UN in Georgia, trying to help keep the peace in the neighbouring province of Abkhazia.

One evening, as dusk was falling, we were driving back to base when a huge boar raced out of the scrub and directly in front of our APC. The contest between a a Saracen, weighing in excess of 20 tonnes and an albeit fairly substantial pig was, alas, an uneven one.

The boar was catapulted forward through the air and landed a good way up the road. I won't trouble you with the details. Suffice it to say that the outcome was fatal.

Despite the APC's potent headlights we weren't immediately clear what we had hit. As we neared the poor mangled creature and all became clear, there were sighs of relief and a few expletives.

Suddenly, under the full beam of our spotlight, what can only have been the boar's coterie of friends and family, including tiny piglets, trotted out of the undergrowth and immediately began tucking enthusiastically in to its remains.

After a long contemplative silence, the driver, a Pakistani officer, said in hushed awe, "Cannibal Piggies!"

Hardly Monty Python but we all pissed ourselves. Guilty feelings? A little for the proud boar. Bugger of a way to go and not much of a send off...
(, Tue 27 Jul 2010, 13:39, 10 replies)
A wee pearoast
I used to work in a large IT office. Now I just work in a small IT office, but that's progress for you.

Anyway, the desks were grouped together in groups of 4. Everyone, for reasons unknown, had their own individual waste bin positioned just behind their desks. This information will become pertinent to this tale. You have been warned.

My desk looked over onto another bank of 4 desks, and Ken, my supervisor, sat at one of these desks.

Ken was a strange guy. Quite likeable, but could talk the arse off a donkey. Not really much of an IT mind it has to be said, or indeed a supervisor for that matter. He was quite a nervous chap, and would often scurry about the office, sheet of paper in hand, trying desperately to look busy.

One day he pushed back from his desk, stood up from his chair, turned round - sheet of paper in hand - and proceeded to hurtle up the office.

So far so good. Sadly for Ken, his foot not only made contact with his bin, but his foot actually went INTO his bin, catching his foot and sending him cartwheeling up the office. He was quite a tall, thin bloke, and the sight of his long gangly arms and legs spinning and whirring wildly as he vaulted like Hugo Sanchez between the desks was a memory that I will always savour.

Everyone, almost to a man, put hands to mouth and gasped "Oh Ken, are you alright?" etc. Except for one man. The man now pissing himself at his desk. The man now typing this tale.

Oh Ken. I'm sorry I laughed. But it was funny as fuck.
(, Tue 27 Jul 2010, 13:30, Reply)
Here boy ....here boy....
I was sitting in the lounge with my friend watching tv when we spotted the dog meandering around the garden. He looked full of the joys of spring. I shouted the magical code word, "Walkies!!". His eyes lit up and his tongue dropped out the side of his mouth as he immediately set off at top speed across the garden....straight into the closed glass patio door. Oh, how we laughed.
(, Tue 27 Jul 2010, 13:01, Reply)
On holiday
in Magaluf (the shame; I was only 18) and my friends and I were being harassed those little pikey looking kids and old women that sell flowers and ‘lucky’ heather. I could see Steve getting more and more annoyed at one particular kid who would just not leave him alone; he kept pulling on Steve's arm trying to get him to purchase a manky looking rose.

Despite numerous ‘no thanks’ and then a few ‘not today’s’, the kid would just not give up, and kept thrusting the flower in Steve’s face. We all carried on walking away from him but still he followed us; it was like he was taking enjoyment from winding us up. It was fucking annoying, but I shrugged it off, it happened pretty much every night and I had to admire their resilience as most people told them to fuck off as they approached.

After a good couple of minutes of being subjected to a very bad sales pitch, Steve finally snapped.


He shouted with such ferocity that I thought his eyes would pop out. The little kid almost left the floor; I swear his head tipped back slightly from the force of the actual shout. He was obviously rattled and didn’t know what to do. He stood and stared blankly for what seemed like an eternity, whilst Steve sounded the ‘T’ of ‘cunt’ with fists clenched tightly and eyes closed. Steve was shaking slightly, getting every last bit of pronunciation out.

The kid then turned and ran – straight into a sandwich board outside a club. He hit it from point blank range, and with such a force, that he fell to the ground and the board collapsed on top of him. Steve was still hunched over, now shouting ‘cunt’ at nobody in particular, just the void which the little boy had left. We all started to laugh at the boy (who still had the flower clasped tightly in his hand) and he just lay, wondering what had just happened.

To top it all off, a rather rotund woman then went over to him and pulled him to his feet by his ear, before giving him a swift boot up the arse.
(, Tue 27 Jul 2010, 11:51, 16 replies)
Will two tens be alright?
Waiting for my prescription to be made up at a chemists in a rather genteel seaside town near where I live there was a shout across the shop of "We haven't got any twenties. Would two tens be alright?" Knowing that they are unlikely to have a cigarette counter everyone looked across the room to where the assistant was waving two packets of Tena lady about. Then following the line of her gaze to where the customer was. A very refined looking lady whose mouth was opening and closing like a goldfish. There were a few snorts and coughs, mine included as I turned away and studied the bottles of TCP.
(, Tue 27 Jul 2010, 11:06, 6 replies)
Drunk and uncoordinated
Having come to the conclusion, not without extensive research, that alcoholic beverages were no longer for me I found myself the designated driver at my uncle's birthday bash. Being a round number a suitable facility had been hired and a buffet/dj/bar laid on. This of course led to a number of guests needing their car keys confiscated and conducted home.
The inappropriate laughter occurred when the revelers were led to the vehicle pulled up in front. Getting dirty and/or embarrassed looks from the spouses of people that one is about to drive home because of ones laughter at their inability to negotiate a few steps of stairs and sidewalk is decidedly uncomforable.
The most notable contestants were the gentleman that started drifting down the slanted sidewalk, restrained from entering the roadway at the last second by a stopsign and the guy I had to haul out of a prickly hedge he had tried to sit on. The latter draped himself nicely over a fence upon reaching his abode.
At least noone hurled in the car...
(, Tue 27 Jul 2010, 11:03, Reply)
The gents
The toilets in work are either side of the lift, so when you enter there is about 10 feet of narrowness before it opens out into the main area.

I walked in the other day and was about half way down the narrow bit when i walked into a solid wall of stench straight from the arse of beelzebub himself.

'Fucking hell' was my immediate response and on turning to leave I heard 'tee hee hee' come from one of the traps.
(, Tue 27 Jul 2010, 10:07, 1 reply)
My ex's mad dad
She phoned me up one night, a bit shaken. Her dad was staying with her for a few days and they had just got back from walking the dog. It was a late autumn evening so quite cold and dark. Her dad had jumped down from a wall, stumbled and fallen in the river. The sides are quite steep and high so he couldn't pull himself out. She knocked on a nearby barge and asked the man inside to help pull her dad out which he did after managing to tread on her dad's hand and make it bleed. Having got him home he went straight in the shower and in the process covered the walls of her bathroom with bloody handprints leaving it looking like "the scene of a murder".

"Sorry to hear that" I said managing not to laugh out loud until after I'd put the phone down.
(, Tue 27 Jul 2010, 9:41, 3 replies)
Dead Cat, Unhinged Mum
Years ago we inherited a manky cat which had lived a semi-stray existance in some nearby stables. She stank like the place where sealions go to die. She moulted constantly, huge white furballs like tumbleweed would blow through the living room, and she had one fang protruding from her mouth at all times.
Her party trick was to clean her growler in the noisiest slurpy fashion a cat could ever muster, usually in front of some visitor who already gagging at the smell and would now flee in horror, covered in drool and white fluff.
Alas it was in mid slurp that poor puss was presumably overcome by her own fumes and died, leg in the air but stiff as a board. Dad went and fetched her with the intention of burying her in the back yard.

However, due to the Jacko-esque pose in which she had died, the inadequate size of box selected as coffin and the fact that no one wanted to do anything about it, the leg would not fit. Dad quietly went about the business of burial, using moggys leg as a convenient handle.

Mum on the other hand was in tears...of hysterical laughter. There she stood at the graveside, doubling up, unable to speak, but with an occasional mime of the cats final pose thrown in complete with one-fang expression. Absolutely peeing herself laughing at a dead cat.

Its a wonder I turned out even this well, really.
(, Tue 27 Jul 2010, 9:36, 2 replies)
Honestly it really was very funny - you should see the video.

Leon Elcock, Hamza Lyzai.
(, Tue 27 Jul 2010, 8:32, 1 reply)
. . .
Back in t'day when I was a gainfully employed contributing member of society, I would spend my day assessing, and once in a blue moon, actually treating people on a general rehab ward.

One lady I had begun (began?) to assess was a 60something lady who'd had a stroke (easy!) affecting her right side. Quite commonly found in these right hemi's can be speech difficulties (to do with the part of the left side of the brain which 'does' speech and language).
The lady in question had not only been so lucky as to be afflicted with a very dense right sided-weakness, but also with significant aphasia (generally: impairment of language) and if I'm not mistaken, quite likely some dyspraxia also, both with her speech and also apparent within function.
She was a very social person prior to her stroke, very chatty, a real sweetie, and very proper so you can imagine (can you? go on, try) how frustrating it probably was for her to all of a sudden be rendered speechless and pretty much dependent. Literally.
And not for lack of trying.

I can't recall the exact assessment, but it was at her bedside (you know how ultimate soundproofed those areas are once you pull the curtains round for 'privacy') and I recall her trying really fucking hard to tell me something.

"c-c-c-c-c-c-c . . . "

I wait. She is clearly trying to get it out but perseverating, and I know its rude to try and second guess constantly. I'll only let someone struggle for so long.

"c-c-c-c-C-C-C-C . . . "

I'm trying to make sure my face is wearing the appropriate expression of patience and encouragement

"C-C-C-C-C-C-C-C- CUNT!"

That poor lady. And yes, I'm professional, so I didn't laugh in her face, but my god it was hard to keep my face straight.
For all I know, she was telling me what she thought of me.
(, Tue 27 Jul 2010, 8:25, 4 replies)
Im living in Shanghai at the moment
Last night I visited the toilet at a hotel lobby because they are generally the best toilets in the city. Anyway upon flushing, the toilet started filling- quickly. Not unheard of in this city, as the piping is not too good. I continued desperately pressing the fush button hoping it would drain, but soon enough the toilet bowl was overflowing. While it ran around my feet I waited until everyone had left the toilets so that i could duck out of there unnoticed.
dashing out the door i brushed past a man entering the toilets.
The sounds of disgust from inside the mens room set me off into a fit of giggles as i quickly rushed out the door and down the street.
(, Tue 27 Jul 2010, 6:58, 1 reply)
A couple of years ago,
Not long after we started our A-levels, my mate's mum sadly lost her battle with cancer. It obviously affected him terribly, but after a few days it became clear to all of us that it was best just not to talk about it...

So a few days later I was catching the bus with a few mates. We got on, but for some reason the bus driver wouldn't take my mate Josh's pass; he kept saying it was invalid. Being witty as we were, this now became somewhat of a running joke: whenever Josh said something, the reply would be "shut up, you're invalid".

A couple of days after that incident, Josh says something, and my mate whose mum had died replied with the now standard "shut up, you're invalid". At this point, barely two weeks or so since the passing of his mother, I decided it would be appropriate to respond to this by saying "No, your mum is invalid".

Immediately, I was dragged out of the room by another mate, of course telling me that I was well out of order. As soon as the door closed behind us, he cracked up and said "that was fucking brilliant. Tescos?"

If you're reading this, sorry mate.
(, Tue 27 Jul 2010, 3:28, 1 reply)
My Gran's Funeral
My Gran passed away a year or two ago, and as she was a Roman Catholic, we had her funeral at the local Roman Catholic church.

The Priest realised that many of the people may be unfamiliar with the Roman Catholic method of conducting a funeral service, and so kindly informed us of how Catholics conduct services:

"For those of you who do not know, us Catholics, sometimes we sit, sometimes we kneel, sometimes we stand..."

II must admit that I wasn't listening intently to what the Priest was saying, but what he said above caught my attention. In fact, in my head, a rogue imagining of what he would say next appeared, which was this:

"... and sometimes we get on down and shake our booties!"

Now, in a funeral, with my dad crying next to me, my mother attempting to comfort him, and all my immediate family positioned around me, biting down on your fist with laughter is somewhat frowned upon. I had to get a tissue from my pocket, and pretend to be sobbing, which worked. I think.

Hell? It's perhaps the least I deserve...
(, Mon 26 Jul 2010, 21:23, 7 replies)
Who's there?
At a funeral some years ago, quite near the front, coffin on those tressel things, very very quiet....at which point my uncle turns to me and whispers "is it just me or can you hear knocking too?"

I nearly sprained something trying not to laugh, thankfully people just thought I was getting emotional.
(, Mon 26 Jul 2010, 20:55, Reply)
I'm sorry but I had to laugh at this devine image of our lord jesus

I'm going to hell
(, Mon 26 Jul 2010, 20:38, 10 replies)
Working in retail...
...as I do means that you come into contact with a lot of 'characters'.

One of our regular customers is a little hard of hearing. VERY hard of hearing (as in would probably miss a Dominos moped at three feet distance). One day he potters in and goes to purchase a walkman. Trouble is, as my colleague was trying to explain the price, type of batteries etc she realised he had no idea what she was saying. So she raised her voice. He, being deaf responds at past eardrum bursting point despite the fact there is no need. I was out the back of the store and wondered what the bloody hell was going on. So I poke my head out front only to witness two people stood a metre apart bellowing at each other as though someone had parked a festival PA system on the counter.

Now this was all very well and although amused I did manage to control my professional self. However...

An hour or so later he reappeared, wobbled to the counter and resumed conversing with the same person as before. It appeared that the walkman was faulty (it wasn't but he just wasn't getting to grips with it). Now I, and I like to think any normal person, would have just accepted he needed a more simple model and given him his money back, not my colleague, oooooh no. She starts explaining how to use it. I am now stood next to her serving on the adjacent till and the ear battering is getting worse...

"YOU NEED TO PRESS THIS BUTTON" shouts till lady
"DO I NEED TO PRESS THIS BUTTON" replies customer

Suddenly from the main office I can hear my boss and her deputy starting to laugh. I guffaw and choke it back. My customer notices and starts to giggle. She chokes it back. I find tears are pricking my eyes and the noise from the office is getting louder and louder whilst Mr Deaf Gent and Miss Till Lady are still locked in the aural equivalent of talking through a concrete radiation shield. Then she shouts something as loud as humanly possible for the fourth time and he replies asking the same thing... and I lose it. I know he is deaf and I felt so awful for laughing but the scenario was so ridiculous it was impossible not to be hysterical. I somehow finished the sale with the customer giggling fit to burst before I run like fuck towards the exit door to the stockroom leaving a tittering till queue and, bent double, I howled laughter into the floor, tears running down my face in torrents.

As I walked back into the office to find two managers, red faced, make up everywhere, the gent was thankfully beginning his journey towards the front door. I do feel a bit guilty but secretly I do wish he would return although preferably when I am not on the next till.!!

Sorry for the length, I just really wanted to get my point across (the counter).
(, Mon 26 Jul 2010, 20:35, 4 replies)
(, Mon 26 Jul 2010, 19:42, 3 replies)
Saving Private Ryan
In a packed cinema when it first came out - including lots of pensioners who had heard it was about t'war.
First twenty minutes - you know what happens, stunningly realistic depiction of the Normandy landing.
Anyway, about five minutes in, a bloke in the background is wandering around in a daze. He suddenly stops and picks up his arm, with a nonchalant 'Oh! There it is' attitude.
I bellowed with laughter - nobody else did.
(, Mon 26 Jul 2010, 19:28, 3 replies)

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