He's already been mentioned but that never seems to stop anyone else on here.
The man responsible for the biggest laughs this year on QOTW: Jam Master Geordie.

Repeatedly hitting refresh on this thread and laughing till my sides ached cheered up a dull Friday.
www.b3ta.com/questions/savingmoney/post1427383

Other contenders:
A slow year for Dr Shambolic although some moments of gold were to be had. He only seems to be followed around by someone with a permanent concussion which doesn't give him much room to shine I guess.

Amorous Badger's heart doesn't seem to be in it any more, let's hope that sees a reversal next year.

One to watch for 2012 - Windy Pig.
( Pig Bodine., Thu 5 Jan 2012, 13:01, 1 reply)

Hero of the year for me
The doctor in Bulgaria who insisted I stayed over night in hosptial after suffering my first ever asthma attack with only 3 days left of my holiday - she not only fudged the paperwork so my insurance would pay out (told them I had gastroenteritis(?) and grade 2 dehydration), but also let me use her personal mobile phone when my one died so I could call my family so I could sob down the phone to them!! Turned out they suspected I had legionellas from the shitty air-con.

The villan is my best mate who I was on holiday with when she said I wouldn't be able to fly home, cow bag!!
(Cydonija well it sure as shit ain't sad, Thu 5 Jan 2012, 11:33, Reply)

That student in the wheelchair - Jodie Marsh or whatever.
What a rebel - he showed The Man what's what.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Thu 5 Jan 2012, 9:58, 7 replies)

Whatever happened to Leon Trotsky?

( enoughblueskyforsailorstrousers, Thu 5 Jan 2012, 7:43, 9 replies)

My villain is God
Because he clearly hasn't made any heroes this year.
(Woodlouse say it with flowers. Send her a Triffid, Thu 5 Jan 2012, 1:23, 1 reply)

My Hero - RVI Hospital
The surgeon who performed my wifes masectomy and reconstructive breast surgery after the devestating news she had breast cancer. This guy was so good he used her latisimus dorsi tissue in her back to form new breast tissue (no dodgy french implants) and remove 23 lymph nodes all through one incision. Amazing stuff and giving Fabcat the dignity and self confidence she was worried she would lose after the op.
Also, the anaethnatist who gave her (and I quote) "a tray of goodies" to calm her down before the op. Nice work fella. MK
(Fabcat&MK see nothing wrong with a little bump n grind, Wed 4 Jan 2012, 20:11, 10 replies)

Herro!

( Dr. Shambolic je suis charlie, Wed 4 Jan 2012, 19:30, 10 replies)

John Oliver
Listen to the Bugle podcast. It's great.

And in 2011, John Oliver coined a new phrase that sealed his hero status with me.

On the news of the death of Osama Bin Laden, he noted that that week's Bugle wasn't some much of a tribute, as a "Fuck You-logy" to the big man. Andy Zaltzmann was audibly unable to control himself, as indeed was I for several minutes.

It helped that both Muammar Gadaffi AND Kim Jong Il were also to require Fuck You-logies later the same year.
(SonofRojBlake, Wed 4 Jan 2012, 16:48, 9 replies)

Mario Balotelli
Stop me if this has bindun - surely it has? Mario Balotelli. I couldn't give a monkeys about football, but this man is a hero. Far too many footballers are young idiots with too much money, who take that money and use it to be anti-social twatrags. Balotelli is, indeed, young, rich, and barking mad, but he's barking mad in a way that does not inconvenience anyone. Indeed, in most cases, quite the opposite - he seems to have a knack for calculated, entertaining craziness, often with a side-order of heartwarming "I wish I could have done that".

Nor for him the standard footballer practices of fighting in nightclubs, gang-raping teenagers or knocking off his team-mates wives or aging prostitutes. Oh no. When this man wants to meet some ladies, he and his brother go to meet ladies... by breaking into a women's prison.

As a young black man with a Maserati, he's not surprisingly stopped by the police quite a bit, and when one of them asked him why he had seven grand in cash on his passenger seat, his response was just "'Cos I'm rich." Said Maserati has been impounded many times and he's had to pay a five figure sum out in parking fines. This is the limit of his anti-social tendencies, though, it seems. When he was stopped for an autograph after a training session by a kid, he asked the boy why he wasn't in school. When the kid told him he was scared to go to school because of a bully, Balotelli put the kid, and his mum, in his Maserati, drove them to the school, and confronted said bully. Classic.

But my favourite story, better than setting his own house on fire with fireworks, better than going to the casino, winning 25 grand and giving a thousand away to a homeless man on the way home, better than wandering round Manchester in a Santa outfit handing out cash at random, better than almost anything I've ever heard, was the tale of the young man with the new house who has asked his mother to help him settle in. She sends him on an errand, a mission, a shopping trip. She gives him a list. On the list is boring stuff like bleach, an ironing board, cleaning supplies and such like. Balotelli is gone for a couple of hours. He returns, followed by a large John Lewis van containing... cleaning supplies? No. A giant trampoline, two Vespa scooters and a Scalextric. Mario Balotelli - you da man. I only hope he can keep this performance up in 2012 and he doesn't do anything more like normal footballers.
(SonofRojBlake, Wed 4 Jan 2012, 16:45, 3 replies)

I’m afraid my hero of 2011 isn’t quite as noble as some of the ones I’ve read this week…

My hero of 2011 was just a child. An innocent little kid. And no, he doesn’t have leukaemia, the bad aids, any limbs missing, nor has he suffered any particular life trauma…(at least I don’t think so – I only met him once and never got to speak to him).

It was mid-December, and I was scrote deep into one of those not-quite-last-minute shopping trips round Tesco to get some buffet food etc before Christmas. It was one of those times when, as you bollock around the heaving lanes, you become aware of the embarrassing situation that you have unwittingly become part of a group of total strangers that are somehow ‘synchronised’ as you all proceed to stop, start, and snake around half a dozen aisles; tripping over each other and invading body space as you reach for the shelves.

Everybody was harassed. – Well, it wasn’t that long ago – you all remember what it was like.

Amongst our troupe of about 9 happy shoppers was a chav couple, some stressed blokes, an immensely hideous pretend-posh crone of a woman, a young mum, and this little lad, who was obviously pissed off about being in Tesco (considering Toys ‘R’ Us is next door), but behaving himself nonetheless.

As for this pretend-posh arsed bint though…you could tell that she considered herself borderline royalty - yet she didn’t possess even an ounce of class. I mean, In the name of the sacred love egg collection of Bob ‘King Dong’ Holness, this was only Tesco for fucks’ sake, not Harrods! how ‘la-de-da’ could she be? And besides, I know some real poshies and they’re alright, so I’m not saying there’s owt wrong with a touch of breeding and privilege etc when it’s handled correctly.

This pompous tart however - was just ‘stuck-up’ her own chutney clout to gargantuan proportions, Like an early forties, ‘Hyacinth Bucket’ sort of specification, with the full fur coat, make up that possibly required a cement mixer to help apply, hard-coiffed, bolted-on hair, whilst dripping with enough chunky gold to satisfactorily explain the question: ‘I wonder what happened to the fabled ‘Jingle Jangle jewellery’ collection, now that Jimmy Saville’s thrown a seven’?

The worst things about her though, were her Hoity-toity, spiteful voice, and her cuntish attitude. She was one of those – ‘whether it’s actually true or not, I’m better than you’ women that you tend to despise almost on sight. In the brief time I had spent in her company she had barged a couple of people out of the way (without an apology), grabbed a poor shop assistant (who reminded me of Justin Hawkins from the Darkness by the way, and who was desperately trying to stack shelves to keep up with demand) and made him traipse around after her for about 5 minutes as she fired questions like ‘Why do you call this ‘finest’? it’s ghastly!‘, before making the poor fucker sprint off and collect things for her.

As I write, it is now my suspicion that the hero boy’s mother must’ve been mumbling and complaining about this woman under her breath to inspire his act of heroism, so I should possibly share the award of ‘hero’ with her. Anyhoo, as we all trundled round, quite a few of us certainly shared a couple of those disapproving glances and rolled our eyes at the events as they occurred.

I suppose I should have said something. But I didn’t. I’m English – my whole ‘comeuppance’, and ‘putting people straight’ repertoire goes about as hard core as 'muttering under my breath', and the occasional ‘tut’. Yep, I’m a cowardly cock-rot.

So, as Lady Muck continued to saunter round and bully the poor haggard staff who were probably already fit to drop to their knees, we all entered the refrigerated meat aisle (which was abso-bastard-lutely heaving, meaning we were pushed even closer together – much to her disgruntlement).

In the kerfuffle that ensued however, the boy managed to slip just a few feet out of his mother’s reach...and right into the oncoming path of Miss ‘Cash for Gold’ 2011 (or should that be 'Gold for Cash'?)

I was only a couple of feet away from him, I could tell the boy was shy, but he seemed strangely motivated. This kid had something on his mind.

Fortuitously for all of us, he had also managed to perfectly time his approach with a slight lull in the hustle and bustle that was going on so that his activity could attract the interest of everyone in the nearby vicinity.

The young lad strolled up to Cruella DeVille’s less popular sister and he tugged very gently a couple of times on her fur coat. He then spoke with a voice so angelic that it would make Charlotte Church sound like Andre Villas Boas gargling nails and napalm.

'Excuse me...’ he whimpered politely, with a quizzical expression on his young face.

The woman clearly had no time for this – and she sternly glared down at him, looking down her nose (which, in her defence, I suppose she sort of had to do...he was a lot shorter than her after all)

“Yeeeeeees...?” she sneered.

The boy gulped slightly, then looked back directly into her beady eyes before asking quite clearly, with a combination of (accidentally) perfect timing and sublime innocence:

“......erm......Do your farts smell?”


...



The sheer hugeness of the shock-lol that erupted from the whole aisle seemed almost vast enough to blow the lamb chops clear into the fruit ‘n’ veg section. Some people tried, (and some succeeded) to stifle their giggles – fair play to them. I wasn’t quite as tactful.

The decibel-busting ‘Pfffffffft’ that launched forth from my cake-hole drenched half my trolley in dribble, and caused me to fire my chewing gum out with such vigour that I doubt it has actually landed yet.

Time then seemed to stand still as the grizzled harridan merely stood rooted to the spot. Everyone else either looked at the floor waiting for a reaction or suddenly made good their escape.

But what was the woman’s response? Well, unfortunately, she didn’t really have one – she didn’t get time. The lads’ poor mum had reached over and dragged him away before any further damage could be done. From his expression I think he actually had more to say…Of course, I can only imagine what - and I can’t decide if he was either going to ask her for tips, or inform her boastfully about the monumentally smelly guff that had been dropped by some clearly talented anal trumpeter near the cereal aisle.

To be fair, as I looked at both women, it was almost a dead heat between who was the more gobsmacked – The woman on the wrong end of this quite phenomenal question, or the boy’s mother – whose scarlet face of burning embarrassment was about to start frying the beef on the fridge shelves.

The rest of the shopping trip for me was a bit of a blur…but I remember it was mostly spent by me looking like an even bigger twat than usual as I staggered around, semi-helpless, pushing a badly weighted trolley about…and struggling to see where I was going due to having to wipe the tears streaming down my face. I think I may have popped my spleen.


So that gentle reader, is why, of all the worthwhile candidates...that the anonymous young boy of Tesco is my Hero of 2011

And as for the Villain? – Oh I don’t know. Life’s too short to hate…Pick your own. Happy new year.
( Pooflake braces for an onslaught..., Wed 4 Jan 2012, 16:29, 14 replies)

Hero
Stewart Lee

He's just so intelligent and well read, and makes fantastically funny, clever jokes. It's like he turns comedy on it's head, shakes it about, then turns it back up again, and reinvents it!

He's so post-modern and cool. I've got rather a crush on him - he's terribly witty - good-looking, too.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Wed 4 Jan 2012, 15:50, 27 replies)

Hero: Margaret Thatcher
...for surviving another year, so we can all continue to watch her suffer something of the pain, misery and despair that she caused the rest of us.

I hope she survives for decades.
(moon monkey is busy making memories worth repressing, Wed 4 Jan 2012, 15:30, 22 replies)

Larry David in Curb Your Enthusiasm
Is my hero and inspiration.

He has that unwavering confidence to say exactly what's on his mind regardless of the probable outcome.

There are so many times when I wish I could be like Larry, rather than the overly sensitive and thoughtful chap I generally am. Sure I may ruffle some feathers, but I'd get shit done.

God bless you Larry.
(BinDipper, Wed 4 Jan 2012, 14:39, Reply)

HERO:
Whoever it was (can't be bothered wading through past QOTWs) who came up with the neologism "necro-nonces". Genius!
(McChinaman banned, Wed 4 Jan 2012, 14:34, 11 replies)

Hero:
John Grant, for Queen of Denmark, the best album I have heard in a good few years and the soundtrack to a fair sized portion of the last 12 months.

Villain: Me, for not being around to vote for him last year when it actually came out.
( scarpe We Stole Bikes, Wed 4 Jan 2012, 14:16, 3 replies)

FUCK ISLAM
THE FUCKING PAEDO-PROPHET WORSHIPPING CUNTS

My villains of 2011 are all those arseholes who respond to the slightest criticism of Christianity with "Well, you wouldn't say that about the Muslims, would you?"
( emvee cruor deo cruoris, Wed 4 Jan 2012, 14:11, 10 replies)

Heroes: the goodies.
Villains: the baddies.

Duh.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Wed 4 Jan 2012, 13:04, 2 replies)

Hugh Grant
is one of my heroes.

This pompous lower upperclass rich git with little or no acting skills and boufant floppy hair was able to secretly "mic himself" and record the acne face hack Paul McMullen incriminating himself and others and that gave legs to the phone hacking story.

So Hugh Grant is one of my heroes for 2011- and I hate myself.
(bugboy, Wed 4 Jan 2012, 12:02, 10 replies)

having only just recently got round to watching Band of Brothers....
I would say my heroes are anyone who fights for this country and for peace throughout the world. (even though it's ironic that you have to fight for peace).

My Villains, however, would be anyone from S*nderland.
( Ya What Skiddlyboop, Wed 4 Jan 2012, 9:51, 19 replies)

U2
They do so much to raise awareness of issues.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Wed 4 Jan 2012, 9:50, 5 replies)

My Hero is David Cameron
For stopping that miserable bastard Gordon Brown from being PM again.

Although he is a bit of a toffee nosed twit. His Mrs is quite fit though, in a horsey sort of way.
(username failed moderation, Wed 4 Jan 2012, 9:17, 10 replies)

Villain....

Kenneth William Bates
(MichaelLinge (ywc), Wed 4 Jan 2012, 7:49, Reply)

Rupert Murdoch
because he knows full well the fact that almost half the population is of below average intelligence. Mind you, Piers Morgan is a truly audacious liar. Give the whole rotten bunch a thumbs up.
(the other guy not the one that gave you coochie warts, Wed 4 Jan 2012, 4:34, 7 replies)

Hooray for b3ta!
Heroes are everyone that gave me a good lol in 2011, and I'm talking, looking back from 2004 up to the present date, and so, too numerous to mention!

Villains are the b3ta bullies, who pathetically attempt to scare women and/or n00bs, they know who they are.
(Victor Mildew going apeshit again, (aka, nightprowleroftheweb), Wed 4 Jan 2012, 3:20, 16 replies)

both in the last week, as I really wasn't that bothered until now...
Hero- Bea Smith.
Villain- The Freak.

Got to love Prisoner DVDs for chrimbo...
( Rotating Wobbly Hat That's not a banana. THIS is a banana., Tue 3 Jan 2012, 22:35, 7 replies)

Maybe not hero's but definitely worthy of considerable respect
Stephen Lawerence's parents for their continual campaigning and pressure on government's of both main parties over the last 18 years to gain justice for their son.
( Fucking hell Jeff I am not a robot, Tue 3 Jan 2012, 22:14, 3 replies)

The England Rugby Team
Dwarf Tossing!! Jumping from a moving ferry!! Vice captain caught playing tonsil tennis with some one other than his wife, Princess Thingymajig,!! Behaving as if the whole world cup was just an excuse to get royally fucking bladdered down under whenever the mood arose!!
Stand up and be counted gents, to pissheads the world over you will be the true heroes of 2011.
Villain of 2011, COPD. Fucking horrible disease that wiped out my Da last year.
(Hammy1801 may have scabies!, Tue 3 Jan 2012, 21:28, 4 replies)