Spend a day with Dad
When Fathers 4 Justice was just starting out, they weren't half as near as good climbers as they are now. In fact, I believe Bob Geldof was a member, before all the buckingham palace in a spiderman suit business kicked off.

Along with Geldof, my old headmaster in primary school was a member after a bitter divorce from his wife after she was caught nobbing the deputy headmaster. He came up with a brilliant way of supporting the cause - spend a day with Dad.

Being deepest darkest Wales, my dad had two jobs. January - May he worked as a builder, but come May he worked as a turkey farmer until November.

See, I didn't mind working on the farm we owned, all the turkeys were cute chicks and a bit of feeding, bit of shovelling shit. Whilst it's not high powered, it was the backbone of Britain.

What i forgot is we never visited the farm in October, I began to find out why.

Day one began by leading the 8 year old me into the shed, and seeing all these turkeys. Dad took them, hung them upside down, and began cutting their heads off. STOP!! I screamed after teh first one, but - dad being dad - continued for half an hour later, the amount of disembembered turkey heads was piling up, but the wings were still flapping. Blood was literally pouring out of the disembembered heads, and because the turkeys don't expect it, their eyes are still open. I made eye contact with this one poor bird, the last one, it must've been aware of the horror it's fellow turkeys underwent, and as my dad decapitated his head, and when it's head came to rest by my feet, the expression will live with me forever.

"Come on", said my dad, "Let them get things out of their system", as we left the still dripping with blood, wings flapping, headless turkeys.

There must be laws about what you can subject an 9 year old child to, but oh no, not my school in the 80's. See, it's Wales, and it was largely farming at the time. Apparently it's not uncommon in a "lets make you a man" way. Gordon Ramsay did it to his children. Gordon Ramsay is a sadistic cunt.

Surprisingly, I'm not a vegetarian, and I choke down turkey ever Christmas Day, but apart from that, I can't eat turkey, it just brings back horrible memories that only new socks, ace tv and mid morning drinking in my local can mask.

Cluck - err - click "I like this" if you had a good Christmas last year.
(rhyswynne - on every social network mullarkey known to man, Sat 23 Jun 2007, 9:11, Reply)

Shamelessly stolen from the Cellar
cellar.org/iotd.php - a site I'm sure many of you will be familiar with

On there is this poor fella with a rather nasty skin condition. Having not got much to compete with you lot, I thought I'd link to the pic of his hands

I wonder how he wanks?


( ogwen69 has returned from Reddit, Sat 23 Jun 2007, 8:47, Reply)

Being brought up
in an enviroment were most recipies started with a live animal, I'm not shocked by the kind of stuff that has the majority of slack jawed faggots reaching for he smelling salts.

But the following always stayed with me-

I used to go to night school at the University (hahahaha) of Luton. Walking back to the station late one night, muttering to myself about what a unmitigated shithole the fucking town was, I turned into a stairwell to be greeted be a rat chowing down on a pile of vomit.
The wee fella just glanced up at me and then carried on stuffing it's face.

Summed up the place perfectly I always think.
( Ring Of Fire A petty, drooling belming butthurt retard., Sat 23 Jun 2007, 8:25, Reply)

Gunshots aren't like the movies
Worked near a very bad neighborhood as a young school-age kid.

I was closing shop one night when I head the door open. Turned to see if I could help whomever it was, to see a fountain of blood spurting with each heartbeat from their throat. Three big steps into the store, and they've collapsed and begun to seize.

You know, when someone dies in front of you, you really can see the life drain out of them.

'Twas a gunshot wound, through the head and carotid artery. Police were called, etc., etc., gang-related crime. The next day I had a bit of a panic attack during class (I was still in school).

That's all.
(herbivorous, Sat 23 Jun 2007, 8:21, Reply)

i shoot rabbits...
and was doing a clearance job for a farmer and every rabbit was needing to be destroyed, so a swift end by my rifle seemed a pretty good way to go. I shot a rabbit, only to see the its young one come up and nuzzle it, and then proceed to drink milk.
My heart panged for about .3 of second whilst I cycled another round and dropped the little un too. Well it was clearance job...

Length, it was about 30 meters i think....
(i AM that masked man Book him Tonto, Sat 23 Jun 2007, 8:01, Reply)

Last saturday..
I have a twin Niece and Nephew and they are 3.5 years old. The spawn of my only Brother and an absolute psycho-ex-wife, they are joy in the midst of chaos and a vitriolic divorce. The boy, Jake, is, at least I think, every bit as smart as that 2 year old they've been bragging about in the UK papers lately.

Anyway, his Sister is not. And the other day, I am working at my Sisters house, doing some work to finalize her estate for sale and my brother decides to stop by with the twins...and I come up the basement stairs to hear my brother screaming...

I get to the door just in time to see why: my Niece had picked up a bloated, VERY dead robin that had been, up until that moment, laying under a small bush.

All I could think about was avian flu. I started gagging when I realized, after inspecting the birds corpse that there were maggots ALL over it.

I went into the house and made my Brother put her through a rigorous bath...and then discard her clothes. I still wretch at the thought of her holding that maggoty bird.
( Citadel Because the world needs less morons, Sat 23 Jun 2007, 7:43, Reply)

grosest thing i saw ever....
...and has not been beaten yet, Still makes me want to puke today. When I was a nipper walking back from school in Romford, I saw an indian mother *suck* the snot out of her sons runny nose and spat it on the pavement. I mean she put her whole mouth over his nose and sucked. Fucking gross. I am not knocking other races etc, but someone should tell em that hankies have existed for thousands of years....


Length? The splat on the pavement was about 3 inches across....

edit i just read beauty school droputs comment about people sucking snot. Seems its more common than i thought!
(i AM that masked man Book him Tonto, Sat 23 Jun 2007, 7:36, Reply)

A Friday Night, Two Years Ago
My Niece is in a country band and they were having their CD release party in Baltimore (Maryland, just north of Washington, DC). I agree to pick up my Sister to drive her up to the gig and do so.

As we are sitting at a light about 1/4 mile from her home, first in line, with an SUV on my right, a car going the other way veers across two lanes of traffic going about 60 miles an hour. She hits the SUV HEAD on, missing my car by literally a foot.

The impact turns the SUV 180 degrees and the offending vehicle, now a compacted mass of steel and plastic, careens across a gas station, coming to rest alongside a gas pump...and proceeds to catch fire.

Like a complete idiot (see previous posts, I was a Marine, so, apparently, I am not the most intelligent of folks) I drive INTO the gas station and park my car with my Registered Nurse sister screaming at me.

I exit the vehicle and go to see about extracting the offending driver from the burning car. Now, I say "burning car" but it had only just started. So I figure if I dont get her out of there, she is going to burn to death.

As I am about halfway across the station, nearing the vehicle I realize: fire + gas = calamity (see what I mean?) and I decide a fire extinguisher should be my first priority.

Another passerby had the same idea and grabbed one and began extinguishing the now significantly larger fire in the engine area and underneath the vehicle...freeing me up to go check on the driver.

She was in there. In between being alive and dead and the dashboard had been pushed up snug against her chest. She was in shock and incapable of speech. I try to get her to make eye contact with me so I can assure her that she is going to be okay to try and calm her. Shock had already set well in.

I had to reach into the wreckage to turn the vehicle ignition off (while the vehicle was off, the open circuit in a gas station, full of vapors and now, thanks to her, a growing puddle of potentially flammable liquids, could be deadly to anyone within 50ft of the car) and when I did so I realized the reason she could turn it off was that her hands, and most of her forearms were PART of the dashboard mess and the left wrist looked as if it soon would be the cause of her death, with the thing having been cut about 3/4 of the way through.

I turned the key and just then, a Police officer came up and put his hand on my shoulder and said "I’ve got this."

I found out later that she died on the way to the hospital.

And once again, on the drive into Baltimore with my Sister I realized how close I had come to not only being in a significant accident, but to also having been burned crispy in a fiery gas station explosion...at least that’s what would have happened in a movie...right?

Sorry for the length of the posts I’ve been putting up on this one, its hard to keep them short.
( Citadel Because the world needs less morons, Sat 23 Jun 2007, 7:27, Reply)

Birthday party fun
I was turning 9, as I remember it. None of my friends had yet arrived, and we were putting up balloons by the side of the house. I went in to the back yard for some more balloons, and glanced at the pigeons that had collected under our birdfeeder. (Pigeons are far too large to use most birdfeeders, but they are happy to pick up dropped bits and pieces from under them.)

Out from the bushes jumps our neighbours' fat, usually lethargic tabby cat. Who eats one of the birds. Right in front of me. Of course, a pigeon does not well fit into a cat's mouth, resulting in one wing remaining outside the cat, flapping frantically, and quite a sound. The cat ran off leaving a trail of blood and feathers. And part of a severed wing. We never bothered telling the neighbours, but we swept up the feathers and blood as best we could before guests arrived.

I can't remember sleeping that night.
(visualdichotomy will be otherwise occupied until, Sat 23 Jun 2007, 4:37, Reply)

Oh dear god
Its this thread.

I feel lucky to have lived a relatively sheltered life.

I thought I was one of the most jaded, unfeeling pricks ever, but I'm only one page into reading this QOTW and I'm trying to hold back tears in some cases, anger in others, and in one or two, vomit.

I honestly don't feel strong enough to keep reading. I can't actually click "I Like This" without feeling really bad.

I'm rather sad now :(

A funny one next week, please?

EDIT: Just hit page two, and I see I'm not the only one :(
(Fleximus Rex briefly gave up lurking on, Sat 23 Jun 2007, 4:13, Reply)

Horrific?
George W. Bush
(barrycounty, Sat 23 Jun 2007, 3:54, Reply)

Doggy fat
This still makes me gag.

A few years ago me and a few acquaintances were lazing about my mates mum and dad's living room watching some Sunday morning gash TV when said mates father decides to make us all a lovely cooked breakfast.

This wasn't unusual.

Our Saturday nights were spent swallowing pills in hot grubby techno clubs and then heading to young Andrews parents house where his dad would not only let us puff the night away he would also let us delve into his own personal stash.

So anyway, on this Sunday morning we are all still pretty stoned and the smell of sausage and bacon was getting everyone in the mood for a hearty feast and indeed that's exactly what it turned out to be...

except for one piece of bacon.

To call what was clinging to this withered piece of meat 'fat' would be doing it a massive injustice. It was an absolute slab of tortured gristle that was probably cut from a pig borne of Satan. There was much stoned hilarity at the sheer absurdity of how manky this rasher of pork was. So instead of all getting up, going to the kitchen to wash our plates.. we do what any other lazy Sunday post clubbers would do.

Put all the leftovers on one plate and give it to the dog..

Although we were starving there was still a fair selection of savoury bites left for the mutt to gorge itself on. At this point I can't stress strongly enough that this dog would eat anything.. plastic, rubber, grit.. it wasn't fussy. It seemed though that even the dog was wary of the rotting trotter and it demolished everything in sight before finally turning it's attention to it's formidable pray. By now the interest in the room was firmly fixed on old Arnie as he proceeded to wrap his lips around the extremity and start to chew.. and chew.. and chew.. and chew for what seemed like a good solid 5 minutes. Eventually and with a massive cough Arnie spat the pork tumour back onto the plate. He was defeated and we were in hysterics.

This brings us to Marc. I'll call him this because not only is it his name, he also is a big reader of this board.. anyway.. after the dog fuelled laughter had died down the conversation quickly turned to 'How much money would it take for you to put that thing in your mouth'. Many figures were banded about until Marc.. with a deadly serious face says.. 'I'll take a fiver off each of you'. Now I think there may have been 5 of us at this point so in his terms he stood to make a fortune. Still thinking this was a joke we all whipped out £5 each and waited for him to say 'Bugger off.. nae chance'..

What happened next will stay with me till my dying day.

Marc saunters over to the plate. Goosebumps appear on my arms.. surely not.. he lifts it from the plate and dangles it inches from his mouth like a bird feeding a worm to it's chicks. I'm still fairly convinced that he is going to throw it at one of us.. but no. It in goes. Right into his mouth. Does he spit it right back out ? No. Marc decides to chew on it for a bit.. All I can think is 'Please spit that out, please'. Instead Marc swallows the entire thing. In one long gulp.

As I finish typing this story I swear I can feel that lumpen fat sliding down my throat.

First post at last..

Length ? Longer than the dog could chew for.
(I fear satan, Sat 23 Jun 2007, 3:45, Reply)

G8 Summit
In London about '98 or '99 I went to a massive protest in Liverpool Street. There were thousands of people there all angry about world debt and other such social ills.

The crowd starts getting a bit irate and the atmosphere turns a bit ominous. There's a police van full of filth that lots of crusty's start taunting. People climb on top of it and others are trying to push it over. The police freak out and start reversing out of the situation but are blocked by the traffic light pole behind them.

Clearly frightened, the driver of the van thinks, fuck it, and whacks it into first and floors it. His mates have got the windows down are liberally spraying the crowd with pepper spray as about 10 people in front of the van desperately try to avoid being run over. Most narrowly avoid this but one girl goes down and is completely run over by the van. I was directly inline with her and about 2 meters away. Once the van is off her I see that she has broken her leg in about 5 places and is screaming in agony - all this through eyes streaming from the bastard pepper spray.

The girl is quickly enveloped as hundreds of people chase after the van in outrage. It's starts to get really ugly and me and my mates decide to get the fuck out of there.

So we all went to Lond Fields where I did way to much ketamine and crashed my bike into a tree and broke my thumb.

The end.
(Creamy Discharge Freeze Motherstickers, this is a fuck up, Sat 23 Jun 2007, 2:38, Reply)

cat getting run over
As me and my girly were driving one night in the pouring rain we saw a cat that had been hit lying in the middle of the road. We managed to swerve it but he was obviously in pain and terrified.

We pulled over straight away and ran back to pick it up and take it to a vets, but just as we got within about 2 metres of saving it's life some fucking bint in an SUV ran straight over it's head right in front of us. For all she knew it could have been our childhood pet but the heartless cow didn't even stop to apologise or anything she just zoomed straight off.

We had to then get back to the car while a procession of cars proceeding to run over the body one at a time.

It really was heartbreaking... we were so close to saving it's life and some daft tart just kills it like that without any remorse.

I grew up always having a cat as a pet so it was extra nasty to see one get run over. I managed to drive the 10 miles home but as soon as I walked through the door I just started crying like a freaking baby.
(bitchman contains mild peril, Sat 23 Jun 2007, 2:38, Reply)

Fire
Saw a guy on fire 100% of him was ablaze. I was too far away to get to him in time so he died.
I had to phone the fire service and a rather pointless ambulance while the body lay smoldering next to me. Cant eat roast pork anymore, the smell is the same
( Terry Oblong There's nobody here but us chickens on, Sat 23 Jun 2007, 1:57, Reply)

Ok, my second one....
Beheading videos.... Nasty things. The worse Iraqi one is the Armstrong one, terrible - you'll hear that in your mind's ear for years.

And a Chechnian/Russian one. Apparently, this was an instructional video on how to cut somebody's head off. A Chechnian rebel slices most of the way through a Young Russian soldier's neck, then explains to his fellow rebels what he's doing. He leaves the Russian gurgling and making the most horrid sounds while he explains what he's done. Later they take his head completely off.

The Chech/Ruskie one was the first beheading I saw, and it made me cry like a baby, thinking about this Russian's family, his parents, brothers, sisters. His children! At this point in my life I didn't know people could do such things to other people. It was a dawning moment of realisation. It taught me a great deal about human beings and what they are capable of. The media protect you from this, with good reason.

I couldn't sleep for about a week.

If somebody goes to show you a video of this type, avoid it, no matter how curious you are. It's not worth it. Really.

Ha! I even mentioned this on the board once.
www.b3ta.com/board/2489313
( Black Moon Not cracked, I'm all up to be., Sat 23 Jun 2007, 1:54, Reply)

Never to be forgoteen
A bloodsoaked teddy bear placed post accident on the hood of the totalled car at the side of an Italian road as we crawled past.
(beaverwastemanagement a real company. I want to work for them!, Sat 23 Jun 2007, 1:18, Reply)

while working on the recovery lorries
we chanced to be called to recover a vw golf that had bet it's demise against the front of an oncoming lorry.
golf was pulling about 80mph, the truck about 60, closing speed therefore of 140mph. the golf had nothing but a floorpan left, the lorry was hardly scratched.
The family of 5 in the car were minced up like prime beef, and the paramedics didn't even bother to unpack the ambulance, it was clear from the red mousse-like gunk that it was not a survivable accident.

remember kids, thoughtless use of speed kills.
(Dangermouse., Sat 23 Jun 2007, 1:02, Reply)

Edenmonster
Razors are just as bad. The skin is very soft in that area so regrowth just curls back in for a lot of girlies, so they get waxed thinking it'll be better. Alright, maybe not the full 70s look but not this totally bare horribleness.
(bonjelafiend, Sat 23 Jun 2007, 0:57, Reply)

I'm gonna stop reading all this stuff now
I fear i may turn into a goth if i carry on...
(Snailfighter Mk VIII MASTER of the bits underneath the ledges on fences, Sat 23 Jun 2007, 0:57, Reply)

A pussycat on a road, which had been ran over.
Well, I say ran over, the poor little sod had been oblitorated. His head and chest area were over here, his tail and one back leg was over there, the remaining bits (other legs and major organs I assume - I couldn't tell) were over there.

His skin and fur on his head had been rotated around his skull, dragging his eyes with it. Face horribly distorted, but still had his purple collar on, with magnetic cat-flap release thingymebob on it. He was only young I think, grey and had white rings on his tail.

I moved the blood soaked remains off the main road and into the grass and bushes at the other side of the path, then for some reason I took his blood-stained collar off and shoved it in my pocket. I biked home and put the collar near my computer. Every time I looked at it, I had a thought for this little puss.

A few weeks later, I was reading the local paper and I noticed LOST: GREY CAT WITH RACCOON MARKINGS TAIL, PURPLE MAGNETIC COLLAR. I checked the address that was given on a map, and yes, it was really really close to where I found the cat. It's got to be the one.

Being a cat lover and responsible cat owner myself, I know what it's like to have a puss go missing, it isn't much fun. I decided to give this lady a call and tell her.

understandibly, she was upset, but I thought it would be best for her to know, rather than forever wondering. She gave me her house number and I took a detour after work the next day and returned the collar to her.

She told me the cat's name was Sam and she showed me a video of him playing with her other cats.

Well, I know it's only a bloody cat, but I love pussies I do. We were both upset.
( Black Moon Not cracked, I'm all up to be., Sat 23 Jun 2007, 0:47, Reply)

bonjelafiend
What's wrong with a razor.

And for a quick story.

Whilst mooching around in bed with an ex one morning, when her puppy jumped up on the bed, she said " He likes the same as you" and stared wacking the little dog off.
( The Awful Puppy Bakery is still bored, Sat 23 Jun 2007, 0:42, Reply)

Brazilian wax gone bad
Part of my job is electrolysis. Woman came to see me back in February with ingrowns all the way from the front to her bumhole. The ones halfway between, around the lips, were particularly impacted as her stupid beauty therapist just kept waxing over them. All were red and full of pus, blood and several curled up hairs. Spent TWO HOURS popping each one, loosening the hair, zapping them for a good 20 seconds each (the roots were very messed up) and then applying plasters. And she aint the only one (but definitely the worst so far). C'mon guys, isn't it about time for a semi-70's muff revival instead of this bare pedo crap?
(bonjelafiend, Sat 23 Jun 2007, 0:31, Reply)

Two
First - driving down a road somewhere near Macclesfield, following a Transit van.

Van brakes sharply. So do I.

Object wearing helmet and leathers appears over the roof of Transit van and lands between back of van and front of my car.

Object is dead beyond hope of recovery.

The horror of this sank home at the inquest, which I had to go to as a witness, when we learned that the motorcyclist had previously been a pretty hopeless abuser of all sorts of substances but had met a girl, turned his life around and was going to work (his first ever full time job) when this happened.

That would be 1996 and still a tear forms in my eye...

Secondly - Kendal, 1990. I worked on the fourth floor of an office block overlooking the river. Right by our office is a weir, dam, waterfall - call it what you like but it's about 10 feet high and the river cascades over it.

It's a very hot day and the local kids are playing in the river under the waterfall.

From our vantage point we can see what they can't. There's a dead sheep - a BIG dead sheep - floating gracefully downstream.

The waterfall concentrates the flow of water and thus accelerates it so an entire office crowds to the window to watch a very sodden dead sheep pick up speed at a rate it never achieved in it's ovine heyday towards the oblivious frolicking youngsters.

Better than we expected. I don't know the speed that the water falls at this point but the sheep (deceased) flipped over the top of the waterfall at a fair rate of knots and - literally - disintegrated as it fell showering the fun loving youths in sheep components. Oh how they ran.

The first still visits me at low moments. The second still makes me grin.
( The Disappointed Caravanner of the year, Sat 23 Jun 2007, 0:30, Reply)

Lots of dead bird stories
Makes me think im perhaps not alone in my, I wouldnt go as far as to say phobia, but certainly very strong dislike for dead animals specifically dead birds.

Knowing this, what does my charming cat decide to do to the young (about 6 years old) gimli. Thats right catch drag inside and eat, head first, a big fucking bird. I was so mortified by this I cant even remember what kind of bird it was. I just remember screaming and shouting like a little girl for my dad.

On second thoughts. It really is a phobia. When I was 18, I had to change the route I cycled to work for about a week due to the dead crow in the road. It was fully intact, which is so much worse than a mashed variety of dead animal and fucking huge. I couldnt understand for the life of me how nothing had squashed it.

Perhaps I am just a pansy.
(Gimli son of Gloin., Sat 23 Jun 2007, 0:21, Reply)

Tales from the Road...
As a lot of people have said up the thread, this one is pretty tame. But it's also kinda funny...

I've done some cycling in my day, a lot of it on rural roads where road-kill is abundant. Now, you'll get plenty of bloated corpses, messy innards stretched out along the roadway, but one particularly picturesque arrangement stood out.

On one trip, I came across a mound of hairy mammal, smaller than cat, bigger than a rat, etc. I couldn't make it out and, halfway through thinking, "Hmmm...wonder what that was..."

There it was: a rabbit's head balanced on the road as if growing out of it and looking straight back down the road at its body. I still think someone had to have placed that one.
(The Manly Ferry, Sat 23 Jun 2007, 0:16, Reply)

This is going to be a list.
1. I haven't personally seen this one, but a friend of mine was playing cricket in his backyard when he hit the ball over the fence. Naturally, he was selected to go fetch the ball from the neighbours yard, so he jumps the fence and guess what he sees? A pool with 3 naked people in it, mother, father, son. All monstrously obiese too.

2. One time while in a public toilet in the middle of nowhere (I wish I posted this in the grafitti QOTW) I saw a drawing on the wall of a dog screwing a man from behind. I was 11 at the time. No wonder I'm so attracted to B3TA.

3. One time at school I was walking through one of the staircases in E block and noticed some one had taken a dump on the steps, and it was a foot-longer. My friends and I had to notify the cleaner, who has always eyed us suspiciously since.
(Berzerker, Fri 22 Jun 2007, 23:37, Reply)

Why I Hate Survivor
Take a seat, it might take me a while, sorry about that. No! Don't sit there! Oh too late..... It began in a very similar way; me and a mate belatedly decided to go watch an England v Italy match at our local several years ago. Upon arrival we discovered there were only two seats left and, because we were late, they were the only two in the entire lounge that faced away from the bloody telly. So we got our drinks, sat down and began painfully watching the football by craning round, occasionally turning back to sip our pints. Added to this annoyance was the pub's insistance upon keeping the juke box going full blast, so we couldn't even turn round to rest our aching necks and listen to the commentary. After about twenty minutes I had to give up, so I sat, drinking my pint, rubbing my sore neck and watching the people watching the football ready to whip my head round if they showed any excitement.

Whilst I sat there something moving caught my eye. Sitting opposite us, staring over our heads at the football was Gary. Now the pub is located quite close to what the less sensitive would call 'The Spacker Flats' which is where Gary had come from. Gary seemed to have problems with his legs and drove everywhere on a motorised scooter. He wasn't exactly retarded, just slightly mentally unexcellent. Which is why I didn't immediately throw something at him when I noticed his hand was buried deep within his pocket and was rythmically moving up and down. My head and eyes immediately shot back to focus on the telly trying desperately to ignore the pain as I let out a little whimper of fear and disgust. After a few moments of not really watching the football I somehow managed to convince myself that I must have imagined it and couldn't resist turning back to confirm my suspicions. One quick glimpse later and I'm staring at the telly again, desperately trying not to piss myself laughing. "What's so funny?" My mate asked. I could only shake my head. Not only was there now definite tenting but I'd also seen Gary's face and his eyes were most definitely not on the telly anymore. They were on my oblivious friend.

It was at this point that Eye Of The Tiger by Survivor just happened to come on the juke box. I seem to remember someone cheering at the manliness of it all as the intro thumped out of the speakers and England surged forward on some doomed to fail attack. For me however, with the full knowledge of the wanking retard behind me, the song seemed to take on a slightly different note. I rolled my eyes as the vocals kicked in with "RISING UP!". At "..WENT THE DISTANCE.." I smiled slightly and for "DON'T LOSE YOUR GRIP" I burst out laughing and when the chorus kicked in with "IT'S THE...EYE OF THE TIGER, IT'S THE CREAM OF THE FIGHT" I was laughing so hard I couldn't breathe and tears were streaming down my face.

"What the fuck is up with you?" My friend asked and the sudden rememberance of the image of Gary slyly tugging himself off behind us brought me back down slightly.
"I think you've pulled!" I said, setting me off again.
My mate turned round to see which obviously hideous woman I'd spotted as per the usual joke. "Yeah, yeah, which moose have you...oh my fucking god!" He stage whispered and we were both staring at the telly, rigid with a mixture of disgust and hilarity.
"Is he done yet?" I asked innocently.
"I don't know!" The friend wails.
"What do you mean?" I ask. "He's either having a wank or he isn't."
"Well...he's....it's....oh just fucking look!"
We both turned slowly and I notice Gary's eyes flick up from looking at my mate back to the telly. Strange he doesn't want my mate to catch him looking at him but doesn't mind continuing with.....well, it's difficult to describe. By the dreamy look on his face and the way he's arching his back he's clearly on the vinegar strokes, but his hand is no longer in his pocket. There is now not only very obvious tenting but a distinct wet spot and, as we watch, rather than finishing himself off in any sort of subtle manner he begins prodding himself quite hard on what I'm guessing was his trouser covered bell end. We both let out little moans of horror and resume watching the match. I occasionally steal glances at my mate, biting my lip as I hear a little groan come from Gary's direction, wondering whether to tell him he's the object of lust for the cock poking mentallist. After a few moments of sheer hell there's an enlongated sigh from behind us and we both tense up. A few moments more and we risk looking round to see Gary slumped forward on the table looking exhausted but undeniably happy. It's at this point I refuse to sit there anymore and we spend the rest of the night standing at the bar, unable to watch the football but at least feeling slightly less dirty.

We told the bar staff what was going on and, after half an hour of arguing over who was going to say something to him (and one brave soul verifying there was now a sizable, vomit inducing stain on the front of his trousers) they wrote him a note which read "If you want to bash your bishop, do it at home!" and taped it to the front of his scooter for him to find when he left. The funniest part of the entire night was about an hour later when my friend went for a piss. No sooner had he gone into the toilets when, quite by chance, Gary happened to need the toilet too. My mate hurriedly emerged only seconds later trying to slyly wipe wee from the front of his jeans and groaning at the uncomfortable feeling of having to cut it off mid-stream.

As we left that night (after making sure Gary had definitely gone and wasn't waiting for us) a man was walking past with his dog. He saw us exit the pub and politely asked us what the score was. We looked at each other and realised we didn't have a frigging clue! He thought we were taking the piss out of him and called us 'wankers'....
( Gleeballs is mostly made out of chocolate and hate., Fri 22 Jun 2007, 22:53, Reply)

Tales of the riverbank
I just walked past the sort of river that flows next to the road.

Tangle in the weeds is the body of a HUGE rat, having been slowly erroded in places by the flow of the water. Guesomely there is still a furry bit sticking out of the water while below the water lines its gone skeletal.
(Staffs Giraffe, Fri 22 Jun 2007, 22:51, Reply)

My Secretary's "Flip Book"
I had a secretary while I worked on Wall Street who had been a paramedic. Apparently, paramedics keep a 'flip book' of all the calls they respond to. Everything.

Some of the notable entries:

a guy who had been run-over by a train. Literally the upper part of his body was held to the lower by a section of skin no wider than 2 inches. It almost looked as if the victim was looking down at the break in his body in awe.

a 'floater' as they call them. Someone had been swimming when they clearly were incapable of the act, in the Hudson River. They found them after a few weeks. Floating, face down. When they rolled the corpse over, it looked like the flesh had turned into oatmeal.

and finally:

A jumper. Someone had lept from a very high window and when they hit the ground, they literally split.

I asked her after having thumbed through the 'Flip Book' to never bring it into the office as the mere thought that those pictures existed made my stomach turn.
( Citadel Because the world needs less morons, Fri 22 Jun 2007, 22:47, Reply)