Clocks
Dan Dan Dan's story reminded me of the time I stayed over at a colleague's house one night after a few too many beers. He lived at home with his (mad) Mum.

She collected clocks, lots and lots of the bastards. The living room must have had about twenty or thirty clocks, all ticking and tocking out of synch. The noise was incredible. All the other rooms had clocks too, everywhere, even the fucking bathroom.

Worst nights sleep ever. Christ knows how he puts up with it.
(mr-lizard Hell's teeth man!, Tue 26 Jul 2011, 20:55, 1 reply)

I never had it in the first place
I've got a problem with putting things in the 'right' order. I was 17 before I could reliably get the months of the year right. Getting the letters in words in the right order was an issue as well. I don't know my left from my right. I can work it out wth some thought, but i have no natural feeling about it. If i'm driving on an empty road i have to double check the curb is on the same side as the passanger seat, and if i'm not on top if it all I'll give way to the left at a roundabout or the right....or both just in case.
( Ring Of Fire A petty, drooling belming butthurt retard., Tue 26 Jul 2011, 19:35, 6 replies)

Lost the love of my life
24th December 1979 I lost my dear wife, christmas day that year was almost too much to bear.
Luckily, on Boxing day, things looked up as it turns out she was down the back of the sofa with the tv remote.


No, you cunt.
( spingers, Tue 26 Jul 2011, 18:48, 2 replies)

Have a pea...
So there I was lying in bed being rudely awoken by my alarm clock, I get up have a shower and get dressed and go downstairs for breakfast.

When I get downstairs I say morning to my parents and eat the delicious breakfast my mother has made for me, say thanks and bid them goodbye.

I go out to the shed and get my bike out, saddle up and start on the 4 mile ride to school.

I used to enjoy the ride as I live in the countryside so you got to see all manner of wildlife (I'm into that sort of stuff).

Anyway I digress, so there I am cycling along whistling away to myself when I get to the village that the school is situated in (Weaverham if you care) Cycle up Lime Avenue to the school gates....
and they're shut??? Strange, it's 8:40am, so someone should be here.

And then it dawned on me, there was nobody about because it was fucking Saturday!

By bloody parents had watched me go to school on a fucking Saturday!

8 fucking mile round trip!

I was pissed! (off)

I cycled back home faster than I've ever gone before, I got to the driveway and cycled down it (We lived in a farmhouse) turned the corner and saw my Mother, Father and Sister stood on the doorstep laughing their heads off, Bastards!

I stormed in and refused to come out for the rest of the weekend.


They'd even gone to the trouble of ringing a neighbour (half a mile down the road) to get them to keep an eye out for me returning so they could be on the doorstep on my return and take the piss.

Cnuts!
(Kip, Tue 26 Jul 2011, 16:44, 3 replies)

I like to talk
to myself
(Dan dan dan They tik urh jerbs!!!, Tue 26 Jul 2011, 16:44, 1 reply)

Ever since my pendulum broke my life has been quite erratic
My parrot, who was cordial, is now transmitting static
The palms are dying, the carpet's dead, the cat keeps doing poo
The only thing that keeps me sane is talking to my shoe
( cumquat may will not be commenting further on the allegations, Tue 26 Jul 2011, 15:30, 4 replies)

My friend Billy
Had a ten foot willy,
And he showed it to the girl next door,
She thought it was a snake,
So she hit it with a rake,
And now it's only five foot four.

Which is how he lost very nearly fifty percent of his endowment.

He's still, unsurprisingly, incredibly bitter about it to this day.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Tue 26 Jul 2011, 14:54, 5 replies)

My pal Steve
Liked a drink. He was out every Friday night with the work crowd, every Saturday with his pals and every Sunday with his brothers in law. Even when the others couldn't make it he'd still go on his own. Then he started popping into his local most evenings on his way home from work. He maintained he didn't have a problem because he never drank in the house. Friends expressed concern but he dismissed their worries as over the top.

One evening on his way home via the pub he called in at the chippy for a pie dinner. The girl rang up the items into the till and asked for payment in the sum of £3.40 at which point Steve said "and one for yourself as well". The girl looked at him like he was a complete tard.

He said he felt like he'd had an out of body experience. He stopped drinking altogether and has been dry since.
(Fireyfox is prepared to change, Tue 26 Jul 2011, 13:50, 2 replies)

In 1977 I was working in Hollywood as a lawyer, and I was representing well known bodybuilder Mr Ferrigno in his negotiations with Universal Studios.
Although both sides were happy to work with each other and agree terms, the process was slowed by my client's intermittent, but extreme, stutter.
One day I was quite exasperated by his inability to pronounce the salary that he wished me to insist upon. Again and again he tried to say the words, but nothing came out.
Suddenly, I remembered that speech defects are frequently context sensitive, and can disappear if the communicator switches to another mode of vocalisation, so I said "Lou, sing it."
( Dr Preference AjcuiVd289, Tue 26 Jul 2011, 12:55, 1 reply)

I went to the Librabry to return a book..
I opened up my bag, but it wasn't there. Damnations! I'd lost it! I sulkily left the library and began to retrace my steps so I could find it. It wasn't in the last class I was in or the one before. I surmised that it could be in my locker so I checked that, but no dice. I sensed defeat, but there was a small chance that it could be at home. Slim, but worth a shot. I got home that afternoon and searched high and low, but it was no where to be seen. I resolved myself to the fact it was gone and I'd have to pay to have it replaced. An unplanned debt like this was going to put a dent in my already tight budget.

The next day my girlfriend and I were having lunch together when half way through she reached into her bag and said, 'You left this at my house'. Success!! I'd found it. After lunch I headed to the library and handed over the book. The librarian took a look at the cover remarked, 'Oh, another Stephen King fan'.

And that is the story of how I almost lost it.
(The Archduke of South London I'm in your Girlfriend eating her organs, Tue 26 Jul 2011, 12:55, Reply)

Grandfather
When I was 8, I had a talk with my grandfather. He said "Kid, when I was your age, I was 9!"
Then he cackled madly, and threw a spoon at a window.



(shamelessly borrowed from Steven Wright)
(tyrellsOwl, Tue 26 Jul 2011, 12:18, 1 reply)

All of you have got brain tumours.
It's the only explanation.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Tue 26 Jul 2011, 12:12, 13 replies)

Get a cup of tea in a shop
Pick up a packet of sugar, wrip it, then nonchalantly pour into ....the bin?

Ive done this a few times now, infact the last time I did it, I was on my second packet of sugar. The first had already fully emptied into the bin.

I normally then sly'ly look around to see if anyone noticed... I then sugar my tea correctly ensuring the sugar goes in the tea.
(Dan dan dan They tik urh jerbs!!!, Tue 26 Jul 2011, 12:11, 2 replies)

There is a clock
at my mums house.

Its been there for years. Recently i realised it actually has a very loud tick tock noise, which ive never noticed.

Once i heard it, I quickly went borderline insane, as I couldnt stop hearing it.

Horrible.
(Dan dan dan They tik urh jerbs!!!, Tue 26 Jul 2011, 12:02, 3 replies)

I meant to say to the wife "You bitch you'll ruin my life."
instead I said "I do"
(Gru being trolled since 1998, Tue 26 Jul 2011, 11:32, 4 replies)

Two weeks ago, I had a minor argument with one of my family members about the unfairness of bank charges.
He was hypocritically claiming that there was any sort of justification for their behaviour, even from their point of view, so I called him and the rest of my family English, then screamed and stormed out, slamming the door. The next morning, to prove that I was the lone voice of reason in an insane world, I went round to our parents' house and broke five of their windows. I banged my head while doing this, so I had to go to hospital. When I got back, I wandered off through the streets of Edinburgh in the opposite direction to the one I live in. Fortunately I was found in time, taken back to the hospital and referred to a GP for referral to counselling, but that didn't stop me invading a complete stranger's house on Friday night, crying and begging for help and prompting them to call both my parents and the police.


Well, okay, that wasn't me, but it was my brother. That was a fun week*. You want to talk about losing it? Imagine watching your brother break down so utterly, prompted by the most ordinary of things. I was actually genuinely terrified for his mental health...still am, in point of fact.

*May not have been actual fun.
(Falstaff's Spiritual Successor, Tue 26 Jul 2011, 11:14, 13 replies)

How I caused someone else to lose it
One of the best examples of losing the plot that I ever saw happened like this...

A few years ago, a mate of mine met Catherine, a Californian girl, while travelling around Ireland. She was seeing the world, and they arranged to meet up back in the UK after he returned home. Sure enough, a few weeks later she turned up, and went out pubbing and clubbing with us for a fortnight or so. I got on really well with her, and we became friends.

But all too soon it was time for her to go back to the states. The, a couple of days before she left, I got a call totally out of the blue from another mate, who was currently working in San Francisco, with the offer of a month's work if I could get out there quickly.

An evil plan formed in my head: I made sure I got her address from my mate before I left, and once I arrived - just a few days after Catherine had left - set off to track her down. She wasn't in at home, but as soon as her housemate determined that we weren't mad axe-wielding rapists - I think the English accents helped - she told us the name of the bar that Catherine had gone to, and we set off to find her.

Now, imagine this from her point of view. She's travelled around for a couple of months, meeting lots of new people, but now she's back in her familiar home environment, and probably feeling that it was all a dream, as you do after getting back from a trip. Then, without warning, someone who - as far as she is concerned - is thousands of miles away on the other side of the planet, strolls casually up and says "Hi!"

It was the first time that I've actually seen someone flapping like a chicken and running around in circles. If her brain had been a computer it would have needed rebooting. And possibly a driver update.
(moon monkey is busy making memories worth repressing, Tue 26 Jul 2011, 10:09, 10 replies)

I worry about my sanity.

I always have to so this, without fail. If I don't do it in the right order I fear ridicule and shame? It's got so bad that I have to make sure that I do it every single day too, not a day can pass without me making sure that I follow exactly the same procedure. I don't know if it's OCD, or superstition (although effectively, I guess they are two sides of the same coint). But whatever it is, I know that it's something that my brain just won't let go of. I literally can't leave the house without doing it. I always have to put my socks on before my shoes.
( scarpe We Stole Bikes, Tue 26 Jul 2011, 10:05, 2 replies)

I had to drive to Norwich the other week (from York)
I was half way there before I realised I'd forgotten the car!
(Che Grimsdale Best before:, Tue 26 Jul 2011, 9:34, 5 replies)

Jump ... jump ... jump ...
For fun I fly gliders - it isn't as calm and quiet as you may imagine mostly because you are zipping through the air at 70 miles an hour listening to the chat on the radio with various gadgets beeping and whining to tell you if you are going up or down or near controlled airspace ...

... one afternoon in 2005 while whistling through the air over Suffolk I had a sudden and very deep sense of dread come over me ...

[for those of you who don't know - Glider wings are designed to be taken off and the whole kit and caboodle stored in a long thin trailer. The wings are pushed together through the fuselage and typically joined with two thick metal pins - it is obvious if you have done it wrong as they flop to the ground - mine was a design such that the ends of the wings engaged with each other and a thin pin about the size of a man's index finger stopped them wiggling out]

... I couldn't remember putting the pin in! I slowed down gently, and tried to think ... OK so I arrived at the gliding club, I eat breakfast, I got someone to help me carry the wings, they slotted together, I used the lever to ram them together, I went for a cup of tea and chat and look at the weather forecast ...

... yup something missing! OK let's run through that again - nope still a gap 8-0

OK take this gently - THINK FOR GOD'S SAKE MAN!!! OK - can't see the if the pin is in as it is behind my head. What next? Is it in the cockpit? A few seconds rummaging around and all I can find is a twix, a half chewed biro and couple of plastic "relief" bags. Great! Must be in ...

... not so fast chirped up a little voice - "it lives in a pouch behind the seat! Can't reach that can you ! Can't see through the back of you head can you? Just imagine you're going to be trying to land - you'll open the spoilers and pop - the wings will fall off and you'll plummet hundreds of feet to a slow lingering death!"


GOING TO HAVE TO JUMP!!!!!!!!! Good thing you are wearing a parachute ... now make sure the straps are tight. Let's get them above the lump in your pocket.

LUMP? - POCKET? - PIN? - OHthankfuckinggoditsmynewphoneandithasacamera - now if I hold it by my ear facing backwards and clicketty-click!

A lovely photo of the pin holding the wings together - phewww!
(Biff..., Tue 26 Jul 2011, 9:22, 14 replies)

Self diagnosis
There was a period of time a few years ago, back when I used to take lots of massive drugs with great regularity, when I became convinced I had or was at the very least developing schizophrenia. My hypochondriac tendencies didn’t help matters as all of the symptoms I researched online seemed to match up. I wondered if I was really in control of my own thoughts and my internal dialogue, or whether it was just nattering away of it’s own accord. Regular visits were made to the local quack where I was repeatedly told I was fine and to stop worrying. A truly frightening time in my life, I don’t mind admitting.

I talked myself out of it in the end though.
(TheManWithThePlan cussed your mum on, Tue 26 Jul 2011, 9:13, 2 replies)

I occasionally put empty boxes on a plate and the food they contained in the bin
Always take a second or fifteen to realise, too, by which point I'm nestled on the couch looking forward to tucking in.
( Bentley T. Coon miles and miles of piles, Tue 26 Jul 2011, 8:44, 2 replies)

Back in the 80s,
I would switch my Speccy on and immediately enter NEW and press ENter, thus restarting the thing. Served absolutely no purpose except to waste another 3 seconds. I don't even know where the habit came from.
( sandettie light vessel automatic New Twitter - @bollocksreally, Tue 26 Jul 2011, 2:58, 2 replies)

Am I losing it?
I sometimes ask myself this, not because I forget things or put things in the wrong place, in fact I am very good at not losing things and know exactly where everything is in my usually untidy room.

I worry I am losing it because sometimes I create sounds in my head that are so loud I hear them with my ears, it is a very strange feeling. Sometimes it is like a bang or a scream or sometimes it is like music that I think I am listening to, but I am not it is in my head. Whatever it is, even though I know that it is completely silent, I hear loud noises.

Other times normal everyday sounds and noises start to sound like words, not words I understand but not like noises, like someone trying to communicate with me. Then I get worried that these sounds I create in my head my form into words, and that at some point I will hear voices in my head, but I never do.

I have very vivid complex dreams that would make excellent books/films if I could concentrate long enough to write them down, sometimes they are so disorientating I wake up not knowing where I am, what I do or even which way up in the bed I am. The most severe case of this took me a good 5 minutes to piece my life together, it was a normal day, waking up at a normal time and I couldn't even remember my girlfriend. What if one day I wake up and it takes longer, 10 minutes, 15 minutes, all day?

sometimes I am worried I might be losing it, should I be?
(Little Animal Disaster isn't finishing what he started, Tue 26 Jul 2011, 1:38, 20 replies)

Tonic clonic fun
Hiya, a few people have posted similar stuff to wot I've been having so you can have mine too.
I get panic attacks, I think. I get proper spack out fits every so often, like an epileptic. Except I'm not epileptic. They say.

I've been on propanalol (beta blockers) for a while which don't seem to help - so I'm a bit stuck really. I get no warning at all that the fits are going to happen, the last 2 times were at work and the first I knew of it was waking up with some paramedics around me.

It's weird, wish I knew what it was - if I died from it I'd have no idea.
(Nigella Pussycat picking baked-in hair from creme brulee, Tue 26 Jul 2011, 1:26, 15 replies)

Altzheimers runs in my family
This QOTW has been quite reassuring, as I've read so many tales that make me think phew I'm not the only one who does daft things like forget names, pin numbers, why I've gone into a room or stop dead on the stairs with a brain blip and cant remember if I'm going up or down.
Stress, tiredness and overwork can make us more absent minded and forgetful.
But lately I seem to be having more of these moments, I pop to the shop for milk and come home with a tin of beans and dont notice until I make a cup of tea.
Go to the post office to pay a bill and buy some stamps instead.
A couple of weeks ago I went to make my dinner and stood staring blankly at my cooker with no idea how to switch it on. The same cooker I've been using for years.
I did the same thing last week and again today.
If family history is anything to go by I shouldn't need to be concerned for a good 30 years yet
But I'll have probably forgotten by then
(insomniac-surfer oh go on then, just this once, Tue 26 Jul 2011, 0:34, 1 reply)

Numerous loses of intelligence...
Quite often start a sentence to tell someone something and completely forget what I was actually going to say.

Will out of the blue just forget my bank PIN numbers. Why I suddenly think this I don't know. I'm normally not even at a cash machine when the thought comes to me.

Forgetting how to spell common words or looking at correctly spelt words and convincing myself that they are spelt incorrectly. Case in point, I ordered some custom t-shirts a couple of weeks back and pontificated over the wording being paranoid of the spelling (something in my head was telling me something was wrong). On opening the delivered package I instantly spotted the spelling mistake. Aaasss!!!
(ihavechangedmyusernamesoicannotbeidentified, Mon 25 Jul 2011, 23:25, 2 replies)

My mum asked if I'd like a cup of tea,
so I whipped my cock out and wanked into a pair of headphones.

Not one of my better days.
( monster munch person, man, woman... camera... TV?, Mon 25 Jul 2011, 22:00, 3 replies)

I was punching wa-a-a-y above my weight and knew it.
Twice-once, chink-chink - his pearl foury
against a sorry-assed whispy pride-of-my-collection whatever-the-fuck-it-was.

I regretted it the moment we exchanged contracts.

Hold on, though! Luck was on my side - I hit him once,
dropsies, boom, right on the button.

But we both knew it couldn't last.

He rolled like a dream, into a drain, I was onto a loser,
and then the lunch bell went.

I picked at my ham roll, avoiding his stare -
I'd wait it out till afternoon class -
but damn, no matter where I sat the cross-eyed fucker had my number.

And five minutes before lunch ended
he had my pride and joy in his pocket.
( nightbuffalo needs more duct tape, Mon 25 Jul 2011, 21:52, 2 replies)