Reap/Sow
When I was on the dole as a teenager I used to sign on at the same time as some mates and we'd go for a few beers, usually with the last of our giros.
After aforesaid beers one day I was just about to get on the bus when the pensioner in front of me in the bus queue, whilst fumbling in her purse for change for the bus dropped a £20 note. No-one else seemed to notice so I picked up the £20 and left the queue and went back to the pub.
I believe this was the incident that has made my life go steadily downhill since 1992.

Length? Getting shorter thanks to karma :(
(garrison, Thu 21 Feb 2008, 19:56, 2 replies)

I think I have finally come around
I got married early and had a reasonable job (working with Doctor When) with reasonable money, our own place (rented) and a rock club at the end of the road (XLs in Edgbaston). Every few months we'd get a performance related bonus of a few hundred quid (back mid-90s it was good money) every four months and life was sweet.

Then my ex fell out with her boss and the income dropped. She couldn't find another job and as we were just above the benefit line, we got no help. I changed jobs for a percieved improvement in pay but lost the job as it was a contract and they didn't need to give me any notice.

The only job I could find was at my dad's engineering firm so ended up working 12-hour shifts from 6pm till 6am, back breaking work although it did improve my upper body strength...

Then her mum became ill with Motor Neurone disease (like what Stephen Hawking has) and we moved down to Cornwall to look after her. She died very quickly and as it was where she grew up, my wife of the time didn't want to move back up to Birmingham.

I couldn't get a job anywhere- all the electronics industry was miles away and I had no car to get there. To get a job in the deep SW at the time you needed to be in the tourism industry or self-employed tradesman. We were stuck both living with her parents. Eventually the only place I could get a job was at Flambards' theme park for the summer season, and for a pittance.

The people were mainly pleasant but I was cooking in the SW sun all day and my eyes felt like they were hot gritty marbles because we weren't allowed to wear sunglasses. Eventually a company relocated to the town and I got a job in electronics again, assembling equipment. Not great, but I learned stuff and the people there were generally nice, including my best mate down in Cornwall who I still keep in contact with 11 years later.

However we were under threat of eviction from my wife's dad who, at the time, turned nasty after his wife had died and was making a grab for all the money she saved while he spent all of his. My daughter was born at this time and he was persuaded by the wife's older brother to let us stay while paying rent but he got us out eventually, sold her childhood home and pocketed the cash after burning his wife's will which left the house to my wife.

We rented a place in town but the wife was sufferring from all the stress and developed two auto-immune diseases triggered by the hassle. She was in hospital and almost died.

Eventually we managed to get a place of our own on an affordable mortgage for part-own through a housing association and wrote her dad out of our lives. But all the stress and pain caused my ex to lash out on the only person she felt would put up with it- me. I for my part had become sullen and withdrawn and unresponsive which made her madder. I played my part in the downward spiral of destruction. Hands up.

By the time my daughter was four I'd been through years of hostility, anger and frustration and our relationship was torpedoed. I moved out and lived in a pitiful bedsit earning toss-all money and having to live on beans and sausages on toast- 1 meal cost about 30p - to pay for rent and the mortgage on my daughters' place.

I had to get a better job to be able to afford my divorce and the only option was contracting up in Cheshire- but it was 350 miles away from my daughter. For three weeks out of four I'd try to come down to Cornwall with a car given to me by my dad (a huge Volvo estate) and do the 700-mile round trip to see her. I was exhausted permanently but gaining experience and had some peace during the week. Me and my wife got divorced amid the usual acrimony but because I was coming to see my daughter every fortnight she let me (and still does) crash on the sofabed so we learned to mainly get on, if very uncomfortably, with the occasional fall-out.

Then that contract came to an end and I was out of work for three months, during which timke the lease terms on my new car meant I owed £1000 and they reposessed it, screwing over my credit record for years to come.

I had to move back in with my folks, and anyone who has moved abck in with their parents will know it's hardly ideal and causes friction. I was driving 90 miles a day, 5 days a week to get to work and celebrated my 30th birthday with no money at all. Miserable.

The new job was closer than Cheshire so my trips to see my daughter became bi-weekly plus holiday time in the summer, easter and christmas. I was on a lower wage but respectable- I cruised for a few years doing this while the company that employed me contracted me out to a car maker in the West Midlands for more and more each year based on my growing exp[erience and skills but passed on very little of their increase. I started getting depressed and took days off for being ill- this came and went on-and-off for years.

The turning point came when I moved in with friends from work- we had a shared house and the social suport of having friends to come home to after work instead of a silent house and the cheap cider. I cheered right up, even with the occasional relapse.

I then tried to leave my company and go to work for the bigger client direct but I was backstabbed and prevented and found myself in a hellhole role which plunged me back into despair.

After a year I started looking in earnest for another job and found one working out in Peterborough- a 140 mile round trip but in a calm, clean, decent position, but boring- I had been so hyped up for difficult work I found this well-paid sedentary work difficult to adapt to- then I got a call from a manager I used to work for briefly a few years before- he had a role to fill and would I like to come and talk to him about it?

I went to see that fellow and came away determined to go there. After giving a months' notice I went. I had to drop a couple of pounds an hour pay but the job was the best....

Now my ex is calmer, happier and my daughter is 11 and relatively well adjusted, all things considered. I still come down every fortnight but now I often get to borrow a car from the work development fleet of prototypes (for which they pay for the fuel) and I'm getting paid enough to be able to treat my daughter and even my ex occasionally. I'm happy in my job and am privelidged to be able to drive the cars. Karma has paid me back in spades.

(Oh, I now work at Aston Martin BTW... nothing cheers up a bod than a weekend with a DB9 or a Vantage, unlimited petrol and 700 miles of driving a posh car)

/apologies for length
( Rotating Wobbly Hat That's not a banana. THIS is a banana., Thu 21 Feb 2008, 19:31, 8 replies)

Not entirely Karma but very close
My best mate at school was a young man who has gone on to be a successful Premier League Footballer. Currently at Manchester City but previously of the mighty Aston Villa.

Anyway shortly after he established himself as a regular first team player at Villa we went out for a few drinks in Birmingham. While stood at the bar we were approached by a local gent who proceeded to berate him for his latest performance which even my mate accepted was crap. The tone of the conversation changed somewhat when this chap started complaining that the only reason he was picked was

"'cos he was a n*****".

The chap then went on to say how brilliant his son was and how he could do everything that my mate could do but he didn't get into the Villa setup cos he wasn't a n*****.

This continued for a few minutes and my normally placid buddy was getting mighty irate, with all of this my son can do that you can't crap, and all the racist bullshit that was now being aimed at him he cracked and responded with a retort that still makes me smile.

He took his wallet out of his pocket took about a £100 quid out of it and promptly set it alight with another mates lighter.

"Bet he cant do that though can he, you redneck cunt".

Hearing my god fearing mother loving chap come out with such a response left the whole of our group somewhat shocked. Not as shocked as the redneck was though.

Racist twat.

Length ? about 6 years ago.
(kickstandrich last had sex with your mum/sister/wife/daughter on, Thu 21 Feb 2008, 19:18, 9 replies)

on my way to work
on the bus one morning when i were a little younger. the bus was a massive, slow and very old double decker,

coming into norwich on the ipswich road there is a section where 2 lanes merge into one and shortly after this there is a traffic island in the middle of the road, passing a car in the right hand lane at the last minute is dangerous as if u dont get into the lane in front of the car in time you would bounce off the island

one morning a lady in an old vw polo who was obviously late for something thought she would try it with a bus, rather priditably didn't make it and she ended up screeching to a halt in front of the traffic island and she sat there holding her horn down for a good 10 seconds as the bus truddled past.

Now mr bus driver (for that was his name) had done nothing wrong, he neither speeded up or slowed down and he had no need to slow down to give way to her as she was no where near the front of the bus when the lanes merged, in fact she was just about level with the back of the bus, any police officer or driving instructor would tell u to pull back and merge in behind the bus

I (and the rest of the passengers) assumed that was the end of it but oh no..... about half a mile up the road the bus pulls into a layby/bus stop to let people off and the woman comes roaring up and parks in front of the bus. Now no accident had occured so the bus driver had no reason at all to stop however when he then went to pull back out into traffic the woman decided to create an accident and reversed her car into the front of the bus, there followed much raising of voices between the drivers and someone on the bus called the police out,

the first good bit came when both drivers came back on the bus faced the passengers and the lady demanded "I need someones details as a witness" at least 3 people told her where she could stick her pen and paper, then the driver pipped up "i could use a witness" and the woman stared on as we all formed an orderly queue, when my turn came i noticed that some had written their details and some comments aswell

the second good part came as the police turned up i enjoyed telling the officer exactly how it happened and how it wasn't the bus drivers fault and even recited parts of the highway code all while the woman stood next to him turning redder and redder, i then sat down and watched the woman turn whiter and whiter as the officer simply told her that on the basis of initial evidence and witness statments he would be arresting her on dangerous and wreckless driving, endangering the public, breach of the public peace, criminal damage and some others...

i saw the driver some months later in a shop and asked about it..... all but 2 of the witnesses had replyed to the police questionare with almost identical information... the result ? she got 6 points and £400 fine and had a job where she was supposed to have a clean licence.... nice
(maxumus HEY!.... diddly dee, de de de de de de, Thu 21 Feb 2008, 18:58, 2 replies)

In my home town (warning: contains sickening violence)
There was a family. The kind of family that every town has really. A thoroughly nasty and antisocial bunch of turds with a predisposition for glue sniffing, violence and petty thievery. A distinct lack of brain power characterised this unholy bunch of scrotes, and the petty thievery usually involved stealing from their own neighbours - they were so lacking in scruples that they had never abided by the petty criminal's unspoken mantra that you never shit in your own nest.

Now, those of you with a dislike for extreme violence I would advise you to stop reading about here...

This antisocial disregard for anything and anyone ensued for years. Oddly, they had very little, if any, trouble with the police, who repeatedly were unable to pin anything on them in order to put them away. The neighbourhood lived in abject terror of the fact that next time they were targeted it could be a lot worse, and so tended to say nothing so as not to provoke any kind of response.

The offspring of this family were three brothers, each one blessed with the same abject cluelessness as to what was considered acceptable in the world. They followed the family pattern of substance abuse, violence and thievery, but the eldest was particularly unpleasant and had spent his years making various 'points', usually with a sharp object. And several blunt ones too. This particular error of the gene pool had also developed a little sideline in selling drugs, and it was this that proved to be especially irksome for some people in the town.

So, one evening, a couple of local hardmen who'd had enough of this family riding roughshod over their fair town followed him, being careful not to be seen, and waited for an opportunity. Armed with a baseball bat, a stanley knife and a pair of pliers, they followed him to a not altogether remote spot on one of the estates, but one which consisted of a large expanse of grass leading down to the railway. An expanse of grass that after a certain point wasn't lit by streetlighting.

What followed was, even by his standards, pretty nasty. As he was sitting on a bench with his head in a bag of glue, the two hard men crept up behind him and smacked him squarely across the back of the head with the baseball bat. Being utterly off his box on Bostik, he wasn't in any fit state to defend himself as the blows rained down on him. Once he was rendered suitably unable to move, they then set about removing his teeth with the pliers, and for good measure also broke both his kneecaps with the bat, before (reportedly) slashing the tendons in the back of his legs with the stanley knife. Then they left him lying there.

About an hour later he was discovered by someone walking their dog. The police were called, but the beating he had received was so severe that it had rendered him permanently brain damaged and unable to speak. He now spends his life being looked after 24-7 by his family, nothing but an empty shell of a dribbling vegetable, which has in some small way been instrumental in keeping them out of trouble. Fortune smiled once again on the town when the middle sibling died of a drugs overdose, thus removing the world of another genetic abhorration. Perhaps seeing that the lifestyle he had adopted wasn't going to do him any favours, the youngest apparently became a bit of a reformed character, although his by now established reputation as a troublesome little cunt meant that opportunities for anything in the town were scarce.

Apologies for the gruesomeness of this tale, but honestly, the family got what they deserved after over 20 years of getting away with everything they had ever done to the people of the town.

*Edit* Whilst I know that this is not karma in its truest sense, it is still a reminder for the kids that crime (and being a twatful cunt in general) doesn't always pay...
( Davros' Granddad a voice of calm reason in a world of spastics., Thu 21 Feb 2008, 18:48, 8 replies)

People who don't believe in karma..
Always get away with murder, people who do get the shit poured upon them from great heights.

Personally I think there must be some sort of mathematical formula to karma. If you are a nice person, you will be friends with nice people who will do nice things for you, and conversely if you're a cunt...
(The_Greyhound wrote www.luckymcdanger.blog.co.uk on, Thu 21 Feb 2008, 18:43, 2 replies)

Looking after a friends pet is too much of a risk
This isn't my story but I feel it needs to be shared. A mate told me of his friend's dog-sitting experience...

A family friend had asked her to look after the family pet Labrador whilst they were on holiday for a few weeks. Seeing no particular problem with this she agreed and it was arranged that she would go to their house every day to feed and walk the dog.

Everything was going smoothly until a week or so in to the dog-sitting when she was alarmed to find it had died overnight. Unwilling to bring the bad news to the family over the phone and ruin their holiday, she decided the best course of action would be to take the doggy-corpse back to her flat and hold it there until the family came home, so she loaded it up in to a suitcase and headed for the tube.

When she arrived at her stop, she found the escalator to be out of action meaning she would have to drag the Labrador suitcase up the stairs. Already feeling quite uncomfortable with the whole situation, she tried her best to carry it, declining several offers of assistance. After a while she admitted defeat and asked for help from the nearest passer by.

As they were walking up the stairs the man began to ask what she was carrying that could be so heavy. Thinking on her feet she blurted out that the suitcase contained her boyfriends DJ equipment and she was carrying it across town for a gig he had that night. At this point the not so friendly passer-by seizes the opportunity and makes off with what he thinks to be several thousand pounds worth of musical equipment. Really it was just 80lbs worth of dog.
(Daveypants laffo, Thu 21 Feb 2008, 18:19, 6 replies)

Miserable twunt that I am
The Junior School that i attended from the ages of 6/7 to 11/12 was a very cut-throat place. There was a definite hierchy to things in my year - 2 boys at the top of the ladder, the majority just below them, then there was in me 2nd from bottom, and, lastly, a boy we shall call Timothy.

This hierchy was one of, quite simply, bullying, humiliation, and physical violence. So, naturally, while the 2 boys tortured all those below them, and down the ladder it went. you'd think, being 2nd from the bottom, I'd have identified with Timothy Made friends with him, even. Or at least empathised to an extent, and largely left him alone.

Did I bollocks. I called him names, kicked him, and generally made him feel like the scum of the Earth - all because those above me did it to me, and I was in need of releasing my anger on the only person I could.

These many years later, I occasionally see Timothy walking around my local area, shoulders hunched, eyes on the floor, tattered clothes. He looks like a broken man.

I, mean while, am different - I walk around looking confident and happy, whistling a bubbly tune, or humming along to some feel-good pop on my iPod. Who would have thought that, despite our situations, our lives could turn out so differently? Who would have considered that, even though I should have known better in the way that I acted toward him - given I was in a virtually identical situation - I was the one who came out of it happy, balanced, and generally alright?

Well, here's the karma. My "i'm so happy!" persona is a complete lie. On the inside I have much more in common with that hunched, broken boy, to whom I helped cause pain and misery. How do I know this? My ex-girlfriend works in the local chemistry. She processes my medication-needs, ie, an antidepressant called Citalopram. I'm on the highest possible dose, 60mg.

One day she happened to mention, "Oh, you know that Timothy you sometimes point out at me? I got a perscription for him today. Funny coincidence - he's on Citalopram, too. Exactly the same dose as you - 60mg."

I've sworn ever since to apologise and beg forgiveness from Timothy. It won't solve any problems, and it won't even clear my conscience, but what I did was completely unfair, and if it helps him in his distress - which I can garuntee, from personal experience, must be extreme, given he's on the same high dose as me - then it's all for the good.

Oh well. Back to the Eating Disorder Day Unit...

EDIT: changed name to protect the broken.
( Matoosh would rather like a biscuit, Thu 21 Feb 2008, 18:08, 10 replies)

Looking back.
Sometimes I wonder what everyone from school is up to now. I'm in a different part of the country, so opportunities to find out are limited to visiting my parents at Christmas and the like.

The local Tesco in my hometown seems to be staffed exclusively by people I knew at school who, if I'm being honest, I am quite happy to see still stuck working there, living with their parents, progressing no further than the wasted lives that they thought were oh so cool when they were teenagers.

On the other side, the people I want to see doing well are, by and large, managing that. Some of them are doing very well indeed. I'm quite happy seeing that too.

The really bad ones I don't know about. Perhaps they are pulling in more money than I am, or have won the lottery, or any of the other good things that seem to be happening to the bad people in other people's stories. But that doesn't upset me.

That's because I know this; truly bad people punish themselves. It doesn't matter how much good fortune comes their way, sooner or later they'll wreck it. Like being a chav, being a bastard is its own punishment. Their bad natures will not allow them to enjoy what they have, or cause them to lose it; the aggressive and arrogant driving their BMW into a tree, the abusive and violent putting themselves on the wrong side of the law, the selfish and heartless losing all hope of love...the list goes on.

If you want to believe it, perhaps karma gives good things to bad people only so that they feel the loss much more severely when they get what they really deserve. It's a comforting thought, even if untrue.

You just have to be patient. :)
(Musuko, Thu 21 Feb 2008, 18:07, 1 reply)

Natural justice and karma, rolled into one
A few years ago, before I came to my senses, I used to be a prison officer in one of London's finest holiday camps. We had a prisoner who was the whingiest, whiniest, most horrible waste of space on the wing; he was also a prolific self-harmer and constant pain in the ass - an all round bad egg.
As is the case in the penal system, this cretin received a letter informing him he was being released early. On New Year's Eve, of all dates... So he proceeded to brag and boast to all and sundry about how he would be living it up etc while they were all behind bars.
He went out as he had stated, on the lash, and got run over and killed.
By a police car.


Now THAT'S karma
( bentalls In my head, I am a ninja, Thu 21 Feb 2008, 18:02, 3 replies)

karma, eh?
i dont believe in it myself

my friend is constantly pulling his younger, attractive albeit slightly naive friends. he's broken a couple of hearts, been a bit of a bastard and made a couple of people angry.

so you'd think karma would have to kick in at some point.

as he told me, an admirer had made themselves known. so he cunningly planned to have her over the night after his on-off bird at the time.

things did not go to plan.

girl left a number of nasty marks on his neck. there was no disguising what they were. i have no clue why he allowed her to leave such obvious signs of his adultery, right there for the world to see. he had to wear a scarf around his neck for weeks. of course, this was a problem. he had to explain to his other girl where the bruises on his neck had come from. he did. there was much anger.

then she continued to see him. i cant imagine how much id have to like someone to keep seeing them when their neck was covered with ugly bruises caused by some other girl.

im not bothered about karma. he needs to be punished for being an idiot.
(ladyintheradiator, Thu 21 Feb 2008, 17:51, 3 replies)

A touching tale
"Are you alright, love?"
Rose looked up from where she sat on the park bench, eyes shining not only with the tears she had so recently wiped away but also with hope; with a fervent anticipation that she had found goodness in another person. Her voice caught in her throat as she tried to answer, and the police officer crouched down before her, staring into her weary, blue eyes.
“You alright?” He asked again, genuine concern mapped across his open, honest face.
“I’m fine,” she managed. “Really. I’ve just had a bad day.” She flashed him a smile – she almost believed the lie herself.
“If you’re sure,” the constable said uncertainly. “You’ve got a nasty bruise there.”
Rose smiled again. This time she couldn’t muster such a genuine beam. She told the familiar lie: “I’m fine. I walked into a door.”
“Listen,” the policeman said, taking her hand. She flinched instinctively and his brows furrowed in concern. “Too often victims of domestic abuse stay silent, and…”
He trailed off as Rose’s husband walked up behind her. He laid a comforting hand around her shoulder, but the close observer could see that those thick, green fingers held a vice-like grip, as though she were his possession. His bulbous eyes whirled in his scaly head as he stared at both the policeman and Rose at once.
“Is there a problem here, Officer?” He asked in a low voice, his tongue hissing sibilants. Before the PC could answer it flicked out, many times the length of his body, to snatch a small pigeon out of the air. All three watched the feathers drift to the ground before the bobby spoke again.
“No, sir, not at all. I was just asking your wife-”
“I know what you were asking!” The reptile snapped. “It’s none of your business. My wife is a little clumsy, that’s all. People make assumptions when they see a guy with green skin dating a white woman and it makes me sick.”
“Sir, this isn’t a racial-”
“Bullshit!” Both eyes rolled to focus on the policeman. “Now you’re going to make assumptions because I’m angry now, but I love my wife and I’d never hurt her. Sometimes we argue, yes, but not as much as we used to. I’ve changed…
“I’m a calmer chameleon.”

***

I’m so, so, sorry, but in fairness that joke is my friend Martin’s and not mine.
(MJPerry was crude but clickable at, Thu 21 Feb 2008, 17:43, 2 replies)

My first CV
I was very naive and so put nothing but truth on my first ever CV. Needless to say the only job I could get after uni was a phone monkey in a call centre on minimum wage.

Some minor (ahem) adjustments later, some elevation of all aspects of my life other than my actual qualifications and i'm now working for a advertising agency in central London for a very respectable pay packet.

Karma? My arse! (cowers waiting for karma to bite)
(Milo Minderbinder, Thu 21 Feb 2008, 17:41, 2 replies)

Done this twice..
Occassion 1:

Was out drinking 'till around 4am one Saturday morning. Went back to a mates. Woke up around 9, absolutely freezing as said mate had turned the heating off and had no spare bedding (even though, oddly, he had a spare bed). Realised that although it was Saturday, I had to work at 9:30. Get to work at 9:35 and cleaned myself up as best I could. Who was the first person I saw? The lady who had been in our party who had been due to go see her parents that morning, but had missed the train due to a hangover, and jokingly blamed me.

Occassion 2: Just before xmas, went out with a few friends who I used to see regularly, but hadn't seen them for a while.

Similar situation to the above, except this time, I had to considerably longer journey (in the case above, the friend lived a couple of streets away from the club we were in, and a short bus ride from work).

This time, I was three bus rides away from home (at least 1.5 hours), so I went home and to bed. Some 2 hours later, somehow I managed to get up for work on time, wash, dresh and get to work nearly on time. Spent all day feeling awful (I was greeted by one of the techs saying "Man, you look in a shit state" and laughing). Went home at 5, and straight to bed..
(Ok, I'll get me coat, Thu 21 Feb 2008, 17:31, 7 replies)

greed
One Christmas I was investigating the fridge when I discovered a huge bowl of brandy butter.

I was about to reap the rewards of my find, when my sister walked into the kitchen.

"You shouldn't eat that", she said flatly.

"Oh really!?" I asked, "and why not exactly, will you tell?"

I then performed a dance around the kitchen table clutching the bowl, while I sang "will you tell, will you tell, WILL YOU TELL????"

At the climax of this performance I scooped an enormous handful of the stuff into my mouth, which turned out to be translucent wobbly chicken fat.
( browser still relating boring anecdotes into a void on, Thu 21 Feb 2008, 17:26, 8 replies)

Icy Goodness
One cold and snowy day, I was amongst a bunch of commuters walking out of Marylebone Station in London - the forecourt was covered with a sheet of ice and it was extremely tricky to find a way across. Subsequently, we were all picking our way very slowly and probably looking like a selection of mongs.

Some twunt in a pin-striped suit (there's a lot of 'em here) was obviously pissed off with our tremulous progress and pushed past, shouting, "Excuse me!" and tutting loudly.

Rather predictably (although not to him, obviously) his doom was close at hand. The ice and his speed combined to make him slip in the best way I have ever seen anyone do it - both legs raised high up in the air, where he seemed to hang for a delicious amount of time, before smacking down very heavily onto his arse.

I am proud of my fellow commuters - they joined me in pointing at him and laughing in a loud and prolonged manner (no mean feat when also trying to maintain one's balance).

Watching him slip over again when trying to stand up served only to increase our joy.
( thealternativefact, Thu 21 Feb 2008, 17:16, 1 reply)

copper's nark
The sleepy hamlet of Busbridge in Godalming is not known for its uncontrollable rates of crime.

The police officer that attended the biannual neighbourhood watch meeting was, therefore, keen for suggestions for something that he and his colleagues could be getting on with.

"Fight crime!" suggested one.
"Solve mysteries!" suggested another.

The policeman replied that there was no crime in Busbridge, and hadn't been for years.

"I've got one" said one indignant-looking lady, Barbara. "The college students drive very fast at the end of the day and first thing in the morning. It's dangerous and somebody is going to get hurt. Something must be done!"

"Right-ho" said the policeman, who was subseqently seen outside the college regularly, waving his speed gun.

At the following meeting everyone was keen to see how the operation went, except Claire who wasn't in attendance.

"Well" said the policeman. "In the last six months we have had over 25 occassions where we have needed to stop drivers who were breaking the speed limit. None of them, in fact, were students. 7 of those occassions turned out to be by the same driver, though - the lady who raised the original complaint, and who is now having her licence reviewed".
( browser still relating boring anecdotes into a void on, Thu 21 Feb 2008, 17:16, 4 replies)

Karma Chameleon and the Lord
First day of secondary school. Queue up in the tuck shop and buy a can of coke. Sitting in the corner drinking said coke and I am approached by the school bully (I am later told), a huge Nigerian by the name of..wait for it..... 'Lord'. I mean as if he wasn't huge enough already you actually had to address him by calling him Lord because that was the fuckers name.

Anyway I'm digressing...Lord proceeds to approach me and asks for a sip of coke. Not wanting to cause any friction I give him the can. The bastard takes the can, takes a huge swig backwards and not only returns back to his normal swig motion but takes a huge swig forwards too. He gives the can back to me with a huge grin on his face and proceeds to walk away. I clean the lip piece and am just about to re-sip my coke when an observer, who has been watching this unfold, says 'I wouldn't drink from that if I were you mate, he's just backwashed it'. Being 11 and straight outta Compton....sorry I mean primary school (couldn't resist ;p) I was unaware of the cunning tricks and guile needed to survice in big school, after all it was my first day.

I got the cnut back though, 2 years later he was having a fight with another kid at school and we all piled into Lord. I swear the whole school beat the living shit out of Lord, kicks, punches, eye gouges rained in on him (all the pent up anger from the years of bullying he's inflicted on everyone I reckon). I personally contributed with several toe punt to his ribs. I hate violence but it felt great at the time. The whole way home I was listening to my walkman and kept on rewinding Cypress Hills 'what around come around kid' reveling in the poignancy of the lyrics to my situation.

Do I win £10?
(CaptainFellatioNelson is trying to kill me, Thu 21 Feb 2008, 17:14, Reply)

Live on the BBC
When I was at school, many years ago, there was a young twat who thought it would be cool to bleach the front of his jet black hair. It was certainly distinctive, and it certainly made an impression, even if he did try to convince us that it happened when he "spilled some peroxide by accident".

One morning in the summer, Peroxide Boy wasn't in school on account of a "dentist's appointment". I'm sure the poor love must have been suffering terribly after such an ordeal because he didn't show up for the rest of the day.

Fortunately for him, the agonising pain didn't stop him from going to the tennis at Wimbledon, and it didn't stop the BBC TV cameraman that day thinking "look at the twat with the bleached hair!". And zooming in.

I always thought it was ironic that the footage made it to the highlights programme that night.
(Thomas_The_Spankengine, Thu 21 Feb 2008, 17:13, 2 replies)

A twat of an ex-manager of mine.



Spent his days spying on everybody by installing snooping software on their computers and then accessing it while supposedly, you know, actually managing us. He had zero people skills apart from arse-licking the higher ups and making up false claims against us underlings.* We always knew he'd nabbed someone as he'd look round with a triumphant grin, a hissed "YES!" and scuttle off to the head of our division. Sure enough, some poor sod would be hauled up on a verbal warning for looking at a news site, sending a personal email or what have you - major internet crime it was too.

After six months of this shite, there was a change in management. The twat was called in and asked to give reasons why he should stay on at the company and to list all the things he'd instituted to make the place a happy and productive environment. Apparently, a lot of 'Err's, 'Weeeeelll's and 'Uhmmm's was the best he could do. He spent the next two, yes, two years on the dole as word got round how much of a clown he was. Oh, and someone decided to use his habit of driving home utterly pissed against him and tipped off the cops to nab him leaving the pub carpark - a four year ban.







* The gobshite misread the results of an internet test that we were running and hauled an entire team in for a disciplinary hearing over them browsing the internet all day. And I mean all day, as in 24 hours, as it was a bandwidth load test. Having this pointed out to him only made him more determined to see them all found guilty.
(Fanta Menace Is tall enough to see over the fence, Thu 21 Feb 2008, 17:10, Reply)

Actually I have a useful thing to add to this:
Ever wondered why some countries such as Mexico, Italy, Brazil etc are well known for thier petty street crimes? Well, it's the Catholic church y'see. You can commit whatever crimes you like if you can go off to confession and have the slate wiped clean.

However, in buddhist countries such as Thailand, you are much less likely to have your wallet nicked, despite lower standards of living, because buddhists are afraid that the bad karma will come back on them.

Fact me hard!
( Mr Gear the gay-maker, Thu 21 Feb 2008, 17:10, 2 replies)

A guy I used to work with...
Was going out with a nurse. SHe decided to throw a sickie and take the day off work to go shopping, so she caught the train to knightsbridge and had just walked past Harrods when the IRA set off a rather large Bomb. Being the kindly soul she is she set to tending the injured. got her face all over the news and a bollocking from her boss
(The Hooded Bean is in my pants Can't resist a Fanny/Tranny Joke, Thu 21 Feb 2008, 17:01, Reply)

The letter-opener that I stole
has been stolen.
( Mr Gear the gay-maker, Thu 21 Feb 2008, 17:00, Reply)

Hoist by their own petard!
I once attended college in a small place in the northern Adirondack mountains, where I studied to be a forester. At the time I drove a 1977 Toyota Corolla, baby-shit yellow, rear-wheel drive, with a lawnmower engine in a chassis that weighed less than my ex wife. Lotsa fun in the snow, if you like spinning out all the time.

One morning as I drove to school I found that the state snowplows had been through to scrape off the night's snowfall. While this is normally a good thing, it turned out that they had scraped the snow off of the glare ice that was beneath- and had not put down any sand. So the snow, which would have provided at least a bit of traction, was removed to make a nice long skating rink out of the roads.

I cursed the jackasses in the plows as I slid along- by that time I had been driving the car long enough to be expert at making it go through damn near anything- and came to a curve at the top of a hill, where a man was frantically signaling me to stop. I slid to a halt next to him, and he warned me of the cars off the road on the other side of the curve. I thanked him and crept forward, and marveled at the sight of about twenty vehicles shot into the snowbanks. I carefully threaded my way through the wreckage-

-and found that the two state snowplows had slid off the road and were wedged into the hillside.

Yes, I did indeed grin and give them a thumbs up as I went past.

Twats.
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Thu 21 Feb 2008, 16:59, 6 replies)

from reading these stories
it seems like a lot of people have experienced that good things happen to bad people.

I consider myself to be pretty fortunate in how my life has and is going

does this mean I'm an arsehole?

additional: I was pretty fat for a good few years....
( Vipros. clever got me this far, then tricky got me in, Thu 21 Feb 2008, 16:52, 1 reply)

Missing chapter of the jungle book.
The passage where an Irishman blunders into the jungle, treads on the snake's tail and gets bitten in the ankle in revenge.

It's called Ka Mick Retribution.
(Rotten_Cointreau is a proper scientician, Thu 21 Feb 2008, 16:41, Reply)

I lied on my CV once...
and ended up with the worst job of my life with a boss so evil that I'm almost sure he was Satans guidance counsellor.
(The Archduke of South London I'm in your Girlfriend eating her organs, Thu 21 Feb 2008, 16:27, Reply)