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This is a question Why I was late

"On the way to the station, I got hit by a bat, it almost took my head clean off. Then the machine would not accept my ticket and the guy at the gate didn't think I looked like the photo on my travel card. So I had to go home and get my passport.

Then the train was 45 minutes late to the station because of the dangerous badger threat at Carpenters Park.

When I was on the train it took and hour and a half to get past the biscuit factory because the driver was really fat.

Then there was a delay stopping at the station because the train in front had heard we were coming and decided to play a practical joke with a rubber shoe on the track.

That is why I couldn't get here on time today."

What's your best excuse?

(, Thu 28 Jun 2007, 10:36)
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This question is now closed.

Badger Threat...
...No, seriously, here in the South, where trains run on power from a third rail, badgers pose quite a problem.

Their natural instinct during mating season is to follow the trails back to their home area and find a mate. Sooner or later they'll come across a man-made obstacle - motorway, barn or maybe even a railway line - where their other natural instinct kicks in - 'you don't climb over anything, you -being a badger- must attempt to go under the obstacle'. Cue many badgers providing a handy earth bond between the 750Volt third rail and the ground, which usually results in a dead badger and lots of nasty smelling smoke (and occasionally flames).

Only problem being, when you've got half a large badger carcass laying around the third rail, when you hit one at 100mph - it's not going to do your train much good.

Hence my announcement of 'this train is being delayed due to a badger on fire and wrapped around the underside equipment of the train'...

and a 45 minute delay as I picked dead mammal out of my shoegear.
(, Mon 2 Jul 2007, 22:42, Reply)
Mate at school turned up an hour late
Spotted the supply teacher hosting the lesson, so said he had been at his castanets lessons.
The whole class laughed at the dubious excuse followed by the dopy mare berating us all ten minutes for mocking his efforts to advance himself musically.
(, Mon 2 Jul 2007, 20:33, Reply)
Cantbearsed reminded me of this...
Little Jonny was late for school and on arrival his teacher demanded why.

"Sorry miss, grandad was on fire."

The teacher, immediately regretting her severe tone, replied "Oh, well I hope he's ok Jonny?"

"Well miss... they don't fuck about at the crematorium."
(, Mon 2 Jul 2007, 19:17, Reply)
She Turned Me Into A Newt At 08:50
It got better, so I was in for ten past nine. Even still I got into trouble. Nazi.
(, Mon 2 Jul 2007, 18:47, Reply)
Bus Drivers too
Occassionally the children of Chapelton would be late to school because our bus driver often stop at the public toilets for a pee.

Thing is, the school was just around the corner but rather than walk over and be on time, we waited on our comfy seats for him to drive us the rest of the way up the road.

Also, sometimes they forgot we were there and din't pick us up.
(, Mon 2 Jul 2007, 17:20, Reply)
Bus Drivers
Late because the bus driver refused, due to people talking too loud, to stop and the next stop was a further 20 minutes.

(, Mon 2 Jul 2007, 17:11, Reply)
Reason for lateness: Peugeot ownership
Actually another reason I have been late many times in the past is due to my trusted automocar. It being of the 205 GTi variety from 1890 something the old valve and compressed air running type I have in the past been frequently late with the accompanied AA van assisting me on my unplanned stop on the Queen's Public Highway.

Usually what happens is I phone work with the magical aid of the mobile self powered cellular telecommunications device and inform my superiors of my impending delay.

Since they know I have a Peugeot there's no problem with me being late.

Score :D

However unreliable the old Jalopy is, it's still the most fun car I've driven to date.
(, Mon 2 Jul 2007, 16:01, Reply)
FAO rachelswipe
I read the same article this morning, ironically as I was sitting on a train which got me into work for 09:10am. My own fault and I have no apologies. I wanted an extra 20 minutes in bed, so I deliberately got the later train.

Besides, my boss is off on holiday at the minute, hence me sitting on websites like this instead of doing real work...
(, Mon 2 Jul 2007, 15:52, Reply)
it was in my metro this morning
that people being late costs the economy something like £612M. apparently more than half the population are regularly late for work and the snooze button is the biggest culprit.

personally i was nearly late because of the same newspaper having an article about the naked african mole rat....... the same creature which has been the subject of that email about "imagine going through life looking like a dick with teeth". i cannot believe this is a real animal. i always thought that email was a joke.

i was glued to my seat with shock and very nearly ended up on my way back into central london.

EDIT: this in turn has just reminded me of one of my favourite ever qotw answers, which still makes me laugh myself silly, so thanks browser:

"I once fell asleep on a train home to Brighton, as it pulled out of Victoria station. I woke up just as it arrived back at Victoria, having been to Brighton and back again. I think that was my angriest ever moment."
(, Mon 2 Jul 2007, 15:29, Reply)
Late...? Late? LATE??!!? FUCKING LATE?!!
We were all going to go to Leeds for a weekend piss-up, and were stood in the car park waiting for a couple of people, when one of my mates who was driving got the idiotic idea in his head to drive back home to pick up some scissors... so he can cut his fingernails. I'm not even fucking joking. We all almost strangled him before making him decide against the idea.
(, Mon 2 Jul 2007, 15:04, Reply)
Not me, but a friend
...my friend was starting a job a while back. She meant to take a train from Crewe to Manchester (about 20 mins), but ended up taking the unfortunately **direct** train to...

...London Euston (a good 2 hours).

Of course, she then had to take the next train back and ended up a good 5 hours late in total.

I wasn't very supportive when she told me. I think I laughed. A lot.
(, Mon 2 Jul 2007, 13:59, Reply)
....And yeah I'm sorry I was late
but I missed the train
And then the traffic was a state
And I can't be arsed to carry on in this debate
That reoccurs, oh when you say I don't care
but of course I do, yeah I clearly do! ....
(, Mon 2 Jul 2007, 13:59, Reply)
When Im late for work
I always tell the boss "My sacofricosis was playing up again this morning and you dont dont want me comming in when that happens."

Hes never asked what it is but it sounds bad so just says OK, prehapse he looked it up and doesnt want to say anything.

Sacofricosis is a sexual paraphilia that refers to people who make holes in their pockets in order to masturbate in public with a minimal risk of getting caught.
(, Mon 2 Jul 2007, 13:54, Reply)
I was once late for an important meeting in London.
It was one of those days when, if something could go wrong, it would go wrong. I had thrown a coffee down my neck and was eating a piece of toast while trying to put on my jacket when a large dollop of marmalade fell off the toast and landed on my white shirt. I ripped the shirt off shredding all the buttons like some overly keen porn actor and put on another. As I turned to leave the bedroom, I tripped over the cat and whacked my head on the wardrobe. Now I have a hurty eye and it's turning red already. Great!

Next up, I fumbled with the lock on the door which leads to the garage and........my car had a flat tyre and so I ran back into the house and phoned a mini-cab. I was told 10 minutes which I understand is the standard response. 35 mins later it arrived. The driver, the worst in London, of that I am certain, didn't come to the door but just sat there, in the car, fag hanging out of his mouth, leaning on the hooter. I got in the car and asked him if he could hurry as I was late and it was a very important day, in fact this meeting was probably going to change my life. He just shook his head and informed me that he always sticks to the speed limit. I'm sure he deliberately went slow just to be awkward, even on a part of the North Circular where it is a 50MPH limit, he stuck to just under 30. Cars were hooting and he just kept saying things like, "Well if you want a speeding ticket, you carry on. I have a clean licence and I intend to keep it that way..blah blah blah etc". I caught his eye in the rear view mirror. "It's fifty here", I snarled at him. "Are you trying to tell me my job?", came the reply. I wasn't going to ague with him in case he slowed down even more or stoped and thrown me out. Eventually we got to my destination, the BBC, and I jumped out of the cab, throwing a tenner at the bastard. As he pulled away, I realised I had forgotton my pass letter to get past the jobsworth at the gate. How did I know this, because I had left my briefcase in THE FUCKING MINICAB.

Eventually after several phone calls I was allowed through. Now panicing as I was almost an hour late the security guard stopped me and made me wait while he made me a badge. This took about ten minutes, a task I could have done in 2. I ran into the building, waited at reception while the girl finished a phone call, which seemed to take for ever. Eventually she directed me to the lifts and to the room where I should have been in an hour and a hald ago. I walked in, saw another receptionist, who was also on the phone and this time it was a private call which made me even more FUCKING ANGRY. By now the veins in my neck were popping and I snapped at the girl. She looked at me, finished her call and told me to sit down. I was sat there for almost 20mins when the person who I had the meeting with walked in. He apollogised to me for keeping me waiting as he had only just arrived due to bad traffic. He looked into my eyes and asked me, "Have you been in a fight?" I explained but was both angry and relieved he was late,I could have killed or kissed him. Not sure which. Oh, the meeting was a COMPLETE WASTE OF FUCKING TIME TOO!

I got home later that afternoon. Walked in, poured a large drink when the doorbell rang. It was the minicab driver standing there with my briefcase. He held out his hand and asked for twenty three pounds. It was only £9.30 to broadcasting house so I asked him why it was more now. He explained that he had gone to another job the other side of the river and his next fare had found it and that this was his second visit to return it. Without any cash as I only had a tenner in my pocket which I HAD TO PAY THE FUCKING CAB DRIVER, so I had to wander around the corner to a cash point and when I got back he had put the price up to £30 due to the fact he had to wait. It was around about now that I snapped. After the police had left I went back inside and finished off a bottle of Cardhu malt.

I was half way down the bottle when I realised I had to pick up my girlfriends kids from school, so I phoned a mini-cab. "10 minutes". "I tell you what, I'll walk". It rained. I arrived at the school soaking wet only to see my girlfriend already there. I had forgotton she had the afternoon off and had told me the previous night that she would PICK THE FUCKING KIDS UP! On the way back she kept sniffing the air and asked me if I had been drinking. I just looked at her and said, "Yes I have. In fact I've had lots, no loads actually, nearly a whole FUCKING BOTTLE OF FUCKING CARDHU MALT!" The remainder of the journey was silent.
(, Mon 2 Jul 2007, 12:31, Reply)
On the way to another gig.
One musical friend of mine is rarely early, and occasionally on time, but most often late. Anyway, on this occasion a good few years back we were indeed late, so we were bowling along the road at a fair old rate in this bloke's old Passat, when the car started to sway violently. He thought the car had a puncture, so he managed to get it stopped in a layby, where we examined the wheels. Nope, all tyres OK.

Turns out that the reason we were yawing was that he was just a crap driver and when the car got a bit of a sway on, he managed to steer with it and make it worse. So we advised him to take it easy until we got there. Which he did, and we were then even later arriving at the gig, but at least we were still alive.

So the official excuse for lateness was that we had a flat tyre (we even made our hands a bit dirty!) but the real reason was that the driver was crap.

However, the real relevance of this little tale is that said bloke now works as.......

a driving instructor.

Those who can, do, etc etc.
(, Mon 2 Jul 2007, 11:25, Reply)
The excuse I'm waiting to give...
...is 'I got up, looked out of the window and decided that I just couldn't be arsed so I went back to bed.'

Regrettably, the delivery of this wishlist line depends on Camelot setting me up for life, which up to now they haven't. Bastards.
(, Mon 2 Jul 2007, 9:07, Reply)
Why do we have to be there on time?
I quite frankly can't understand why we have to be in the office by 9am on the dot anyway. Everyone's way too hung up on schedules. I mean, I know that in some jobs some people have to be there on time to drive buses or fly planes or open shops or whatever but I sit at a computer all day drawing pretty pictures. I have no responsibilities in the company so I see no critical need to be there right on the button. As long as I do my 7 and a half hours a day, what is there to complain about?

BTW I do actually turn up on time every day just to stop the w@nker of a boss from having a dig, just don't think I should have to.

My lame excuse for being late... I was abducted by aliens. It didn't work but at least I put a smile on the w@nker's face.
(, Mon 2 Jul 2007, 4:24, Reply)
I wish it was just an excuse
Pulled some bird and went back to hers. Next morning she had to leave early for work but let me stay a little longer. Eventually get up and make my way downstairs. She lived in Walthamstow in a house split into two flats with a communal front door. Turns out the other flat has double bolted the door.

Fuck. 10 years ago so didn’t have a mobile. Turned around to go back into her flat so I could call her to come and let me out. The door to her flat has closed behind me and now I’m locked in a 12 foot x 3 foot corridor in pissing Walthmastow. Fuck.

Started laughing about the situation until it dawns on me that she’s not coming home for another 10 hours and start to feel a little faint. Have to lie down as the claustrophobia takes hold. Start to panic and really need to do a shit.

Prise open the letterbox and study the road outside hoping to catch someones attention. First person walking by is a kid.

“Oi.” Kid looks around. “Oi, over here.” Kid looks confused until he see half a face in the letterbox. He comes over but he can’t speak any English. I try and tell him to get help and he wanders off. Next thing I hear some man shouting and this kid starts crying. Must have been his dad telling him not to fuck about with strange men in letterboxes. See the kid hurry by on the other side of the road.

Half an hour later a street sweeper comes past. After he’s stopped pissing himself laughing he asks me what I expect him to do about it. “I don’t know, call the police?”
“Alright then.” And he wanders off. Comes back about half an hour later. “I’ve called the police – they’ll come but they said it’s not a priority.”
“Cheers mate.”

Two fucking hours later some twat of a policeman turns up. “What seems to be the problem, Sir?”
“I’m stuck in a pissing corridor, mate. That’s the cocking problem.”
“What about going out the backdoor, Sir?”
“No you retard, I’m stuck in this corridor, I can’t get round the back.”

Eventually he goes off and calls this girl at work. Apparently they announced over a tannoy that there was a man locked in her house and could she please go and let him out. Quite embarrassing for her she later tells me.

She has to come all the way from South Kennsington which takes another hour and a half. As soon as she turns up I sprint upstairs to unload the mother of all shits and then finally leave that bastard place.

Turn up at work six hours late and have to explain the whole thing to my boss. He threatened to sack me if it happened again. WTF.
(, Mon 2 Jul 2007, 2:23, Reply)
Another one from the Sam archives...
During year 11 in high school i had a bit of a...problem...what with getting to school on time. A very big problem. A humungous problem of gargantuan proportions. To put it short i had 89 lates during the year out of 200 something days. Y'see the bus company are a load of twats who won't even let you on the bus for childs fare even if you happen to be wearing your fucking school uniform. They pay no attention to this as i don't look my age. I was told i looked like i was in my 20's, when/if they eventually let me on the bus (OK, a downer for getting to school, but i was free to roam the pub landscape). Occasionally i had to go home and grab some money out of my savings purely so i could get to school by paying the adult fare, which was frankly shite as my family was always low on cash.

So on parents evening that year my form teacher (good guy), told my mum about the problem, and I nodded in agreement and told them why i had been late to school so many times that year. My teacher offered me advice to get a bus pass to make travel more efficient.
Anyway, after a hefty scolding from mother I promised i would get a bus pass. Another slight problem: I didn't know how to get one. I asked my parents if they could help me get a pass as i had no idea where/how to get one. "OK Son, we'll drive you up to town on the weekend to get one, don't worry". After numerous delays they finally agreed to take me up on a specified date. A week before I left the school forever.

Fucking time wasting cunts.
(, Mon 2 Jul 2007, 2:02, Reply)
A couple here
One of these belongs to a friend of mine, i believe he said "sorry im late..... my grandmother was on fire" i dont quite think i can explain that one.

Another one that i personally used (to no avail i might add) was that id been locked in homebase all night and failed to get home in time to do my coursework. I even remember making up a 10 minute detailed back story just so they might of passed it off as something that really happened heh heh.
(, Mon 2 Jul 2007, 1:50, Reply)
Sadly this isn't really funny...
When I was a teenager, I had this part time weekend job in somerfield. For some insane reason I ended up as the weekend supervisor for the deli counter.
One weekend I thought I was due to start at mid day, so I stayed up late and got totally wankered. On reaching my bedroom at 3am I suddenly remembered I was actually supposed to be starting at 8am.


So anyway I set the alarm clock for 7am hoping I might actually hear it.

I did, but switched it right off in a halfdrunken haze.
I eventually woke up at 10am and rang work saying 'Sorry I'm not there I ...slightly overslept'
'Slightly??' says the boss.
'I'll be there in 30 mins' says I.
'Don't bother we got Maggie to cover it, see you next week!'
Result, I got a free day off, and they forgot to dock my pay too :D
(, Mon 2 Jul 2007, 0:57, Reply)
Uni applications
Applied for a variety of unis on my UCAS form, and sat back awaiting the results. They all came in, and everywhere offered me a place straight off - except Bristol, who wanted an interview. Fair enough, thinks I, and start working out transport.

It turns out, that to fly there and get a train back is the cheapest, easiest and fastest option (as I live up north), so we get everything booked and sorted out. On the day, I get up at some obscenely early hour, and get to the airport on time. Plane delayed. Cock. Should still be just about to make it. Plane arrives - still just enough time. Get on, whack MP3 player out, and go to sleep.

The wheels bump on the tarmac, so I turn off my MP3 player, and listen to the pilot. "Welcome to Newquay airport, sorry about the diversion. We'll have buses to get you to your destination". Newquey. Not Bristol. Fuck.

Possibly the first time a first time the university has ever heard the excuse "Sorry, went to Newquay" as an excuse for skivving an interview. Not that it mattered, as they gave me a place anyway.
(, Sun 1 Jul 2007, 23:25, Reply)
I have the misfortune of having a disabled mother. She has MS and walks with a stick and limited movement, so when I got my first car at the ripe old age of 17, I drove her to work every morning.

Which was all well and good. But for the entire seven months before I left high school, I just didn't bother to go in. Double period of English 3 mornings a week, RE on the fourth and study periods on the Friday. Used to go to Ikea for hotdogs, get a pint of milk and read the papers before sauntering in around 11, making the excuse that the "traffic was bad". For seven months. And despite living a whole mile and a half from the school.

The rest of the time I attended I didn't do a great deal anyway, failed my highers, and went on to work for the UK's premier ground handling company at Glasgow Airport... doing not a great deal either.

For the record, I drive a Ford, not a Cherokee...
(, Sun 1 Jul 2007, 23:17, Reply)
not mine
but a lad i used to work with when i "marked up" paper rounds.

his excuse for being about an hour late to work one morning was "i got lost"

he could see the paper shop from his front door
(, Sun 1 Jul 2007, 22:35, Reply)
A Girl back in school
She was living a two minute walk from school, and still managed to come in late every morning. At least she usually had another amusing story as for why she had not managed to fall out of bed, which would have brought her half way in.
One Day she claimed, she had to wait for her sister to have an onset of asthma.
Another day a strange man was standing in front of her house, equivocally requesting to have a look at her electricity meter, and she was affraid to pass him by.
My favourite excuse however was, after she had lost 30 minutes on a 2 minute walk she came in, and casually announced, she had had headwind.
(, Sun 1 Jul 2007, 22:33, Reply)
Most horrific thing I've seen?
When I was 10 we had to watch these health videos or somesuch at school. They talked about a whole host of illnesses and health problems and the effects on the body, illustrated with graphics and inner-body cameras.

I was whiter than Michael Jackson since his regeneration the whole day.
(, Sun 1 Jul 2007, 22:32, Reply)
Best excuse and totally true
I am known for constantly being late - in fact people usually tell me a different earlier time to arrive knowing that I've a possibility of making it at the time they actually want. But I digress. My best excuse and totally and utterly true was used a couple of months ago. Was going to go and stay with a friend and go for a meal and was supposed to turn up early afternoon to spend time with them before having to go out. Arrived four hours later than was expected and asked my excuse.

I was having one of my girlie pigs inseminated by another friend's new intact boar. Strangely enough, no one had ever given that as an excuse before...
(, Sun 1 Jul 2007, 22:07, Reply)
Not me, but a friend of mine. As most of these things are. But trust me, I'm glad I never have to tell this story as my own.

Said friend, Phil for the purposes of this story etc, was driving to work when he suffered a side-on collision with a rather low-riding MG. his Mazda was completely pole-axed on one side as the twunt driving the MG had failed to pay attention whilst pulling out of a junction, smashing into the right hand side of Phil's car.

Bizarrely, the MG was ok, apart from some scratched paintwork and a broken light, but Phil's Mazda had a large dent in the side. The impact of the crash had caused the door to crack and implode into the car, with the now two halves of the door becoming vicious shards of metal.

One of said shards had thrust itself rather delightfully into Phil's leg. Through the ankle bone. And then twisted. An entire ninety degrees. Severing the ankle in half, separating the ankles bones and splitting the femur almost in half lengthways. When the paramedics turned up, they had to lift Phil out of the car and support the weight of half the door, as it would have ripped his leg in two had they jolted it out. He lost a lot of blood that day.

he also lost his foot. Most people in his work knew about it, but when he did return, some people inevitably asked him why he had been three days late for work. His response, casual as ever:

'Oh, just lost a foot.'
(, Sun 1 Jul 2007, 21:28, Reply)
Why Are You Late?
School teacher: Why are you late?
Me: Cos I arrived after the bell went!
I nicked it from Sister Act 2 of all places! And i got a detention!
(, Sun 1 Jul 2007, 21:23, Reply)
I was once late for work as there was a moth hiding in the towel and I smeared it all over me as I was drying myself off. I was then gagging, and dry heaving for ages at the thought of what had happened, before then having to have another shower.
(, Sun 1 Jul 2007, 21:10, Reply)

This question is now closed.

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