Nestlé's supermarket ice cream may be shit, but it was the best fucking scoop I ever had.
Finally able to visit me after weeks in hospital, my 4½-year-old daughter insisted on emptying her penny purse to buy an ice cream to share with Papa. I wasn't even supposed to be eating yet. I had chocolate chocolate chip, she had strawberry. We shared (she insisted on that, too).
(ReallyEvilCanine looks like an upside-down question mark with hair, Mon 27 Jan 2014, 13:51, Reply)

L'esprit de dix ans
When I was ten the Lotus Elan was brand new. "It's front wheel drive," the car bores of the day said. "It's a disgrace." "It leaks and the lights are noisy," Top Gear whined. "It's a fucking rip-off" said everyone else, gripped by the Major recession and unwilling to give Lotus' GM overlords the twenty grand they were charging for this two-seater 1.6 litre plastic toy.

But I knew differently. I had a pirate copy of Lotus Challenge (incidentally still runs on DOSbox) and I was completely in love with the best car ever made by anyone. "One day," I said to myself, typing in the 9-letter race track generator codes (I recall TESTICLES was quite a good one), "one day I will be driving a real one of these, and it will be made of actual plastic and not just pixels."

Twenty years later, an amount of money came my way. Not so small that I spunked it in the pub immediately, but equally not large enough to consider my investment opportunities. It was a kind of "second hand car" amount of money and, on a whim I stuck "convertible" into Autotrader. The top result? A racing green Lotus Elan.

A week later, I bought the best car ever made by anyone for cash from a guy in Somerset and drove off into the pouring March rain with the biggest grin my face could accommodate. "It will do," the seller had assured me, "140 on the bypass." No such luck to be had that day however as it had barely warmed up before the Check Engine light came on. Undeterred, I ploughed through hail, sleet and torrential rain which appeared to be achieving ingress through every possible joint, seal and orifice in the car body. By the time I got back to London I was sitting in a puddle and the door trim glue had dissolved so much that a piece of crap 1990s carpet was lying on my knee.

The car had been neglected, honestly. The past three MOTs showed an average of just six miles per year - i.e. driving to the MOT garage and back - and bringing it back to half decent condition sucked up a lot of work and money. It needed tyres, an oil change, new roof seals and a new flip-up light control box. And interior lights. And a timing sensor. Then it burst a coolant hose, so I thought I'd up my game and replace the whole set. Then the petrol tank began leaking and I had to get a garage to remove half the rear suspension so we could lower the thing out and weld the crack in it shut.

In the end, I spent almost half again on top of the purchase price. I quickly realised what an awful mistake I'd made but I have an addictive and stubborn personality and found myself unable to avoid chasing my poor investment to its sorry conclusion. Every weekend when I woke to find it wasn't raining I would cancel whatever plans I had and work on the fucking car.

Some months after I bought it, in the Summer, I was changing the brake pads. I had jacked up the front of the car to get at the hubs and was obscured from the pavement by nature of having my head stuck in the wheel well. A bolt wouldn't let go and, in a moment of frustrated existential crisis, I found myself covered in toxic brake dust, hot, sweaty, broke and pissed off. This wasn't I'd had in mind all those years ago when I was typing TESTICLES into my Dad's PC. This was bullshit.

I glanced up for a moment and saw a young kid of about ten riding a scooter down the pavement, followed by his Mum and a push chair. When he drew level with the Lotus he stopped and stared at it. I could just see him through the window but he wasn't looking at me. Instead, he looked at the flip up lights and the low-slung chassis. He took in the shiny wheels and the classic yellow badge on the steering wheel. He didn't see the flawed electrics or the rusty wishbones, or the bearings that were probably on the way out, or the crippling fuel consumption. He saw the car for what it was meant to be. As his mother caught up with him he turned and pointed.

"That is a bangin' car, Mum!"

Made my fucking year.
( pineapplecharm D d M Y, H:i, Mon 27 Jan 2014, 13:46, 36 replies)

The 'Red Arrow' manoeuvre.
Defined as, that moment, when being third in line at the traffic lights at a crossroad; the first car goes left, the second car goes right, and your destination lies straight on.
Sometimes I've been known to change my journey just to enjoy this phenomenon, but, not ten minutes ago, it happened for real. I had to imagine smoke pouring out the back of the car (just been to the mechanic, so I wouldn't have been entirely surprised!) and dramatic music playing as I drove, without deviation, straight across the junction as the other cars peeled off to either side.

Works even better when I'm on the bike, the sound effect in that instance is peeyow as I fly like a bullet from the impromptu display.
( Blind Meach Cautiously optimistic, Mon 27 Jan 2014, 13:32, 2 replies)

Ok, due to popular demand heres little dit for you.
Apologies in advance for length.

Right, so last Friday I had to go for a scope to check and see if my Crohn's had become active again as I was noticing some symptoms that usually would indicate active disease.

So to make it all lovely, you can opt for sedation, I wasn't going to bother as he wasn't putting it all the way in (ahh thank you). My doctor came to visit me in the prep room and asked why I didn't want the sedation and I said well I fancy a beer and I know your not meant to drink after sedation. "Well what do you mean by a beer?" He's seen me drink before when he bumped into me in the gay pub my dad used to own (wholeeee other story). Well only a coupley beers and a curry, so he said just to take it as I had already had a few pints and bare that in mind. So lovely I get to get off my tits on Midazolan and have a few beers.

So sedation in, warm fuzzy feeling, loverly jubbly. So scope goes in, the first or inch or two is a little inflamed. I am now my own discovery channel special watching last nights dinner on a TV. I had no bowel prep so there was a fair bit of 2 way traffic for what of a better word, it was like watching Liam Neeson in Taken when he drives against traffic the wrong way. My doctor was like Louis Hamilton with this scope with smooth maneuvers round behemoth bum logs.

Now fantastically there is no active disease, only local irritation where basically I've put on a bit of weight and its irritating where the intestine passes through my abdomen.

I can't express the relief I felt when he told me and I saw that there was no active disease I nearly cried. I'm rocking on for 2 and a half years in remission now. Losing my bumole was a small price to pay for getting my life back.
(bumless The man with the hole in the middle, Mon 27 Jan 2014, 13:14, 20 replies)

somebody had thrown some crusts in a local square today, and I saw seagulls, crows, pidgeons and indian minahs in just about equal numbers, gorging themselves
if they can learn to live together in bready harmony, maybe we can too.
you know, I think we're all going to be OK
( cumquat may will not be commenting further on the allegations, Mon 27 Jan 2014, 11:17, 4 replies)

This morning a besuited and self-important fat man pushed past me on the escalator to the tube exit.
It was not without a little mirth that on leaving the station, I saw him trip over a broken paving stone, bump into the wall and drop his suitcase.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Mon 27 Jan 2014, 10:52, 5 replies)

Accidentally hitting "speaker" on my phone just as the wife mentioned something intimate, thus letting the whole office hear
Don't know why, but it really made me chuckle. A genuine mistake, it's a new phone and I didn't know until that moment that it's possible to brush the "speaker" icon with your cheek as you hold it to your ear.
(moon monkey is busy making memories worth repressing, Mon 27 Jan 2014, 10:43, 4 replies)

Little moments of Joy
I'm one of the spaktards that works unbelievable hours for shit pay, only to be told by Cameron that my pay has gone up (it hasn't, the cnut has frozen it, so I won't even get my 1% I was promised).
Anyway, caring for those in the direst need has other rewards:
1. A patient taking a breath after "being down" for 20 minutes.
2. A patient taking it's first breath.
3. A patient taking their last breath, now their suffering is over.
So stuff your 1% Cameron, up your tight wrinkly sphincter, because all of the above are worth more than your sickening corrupt 11% pay increase you've awarded yourselves!
CNUT!
(stygof, Sun 26 Jan 2014, 22:34, 88 replies)

I've got some fucking jaffa cakes in my coat pocket!
What?
( Herb Alpert's Taxi Driver I have very beautiful lips, Sun 26 Jan 2014, 21:54, 12 replies)

Last night
Riding my first ever Alleycat cycle courier race along with a colleague - who has been mocking me for being slow for six months - and hammering him, despite the fact that he cheated.
( MatJ LOOK, Sun 26 Jan 2014, 21:03, Reply)

It is probably the same in many households so you will all know exactly what I am talking about,
when the butler has ironed a perfect crease into all the sections of the Sunday Times but excluding the magazine sections.
( d.r._and_quinch when will you be famous?, Sun 26 Jan 2014, 18:36, 4 replies)

Yaqui dancing inspiration
Not recent, but still fun. When I lived in Tucson, Arizona, I used to like to jog through the open spaces of an automobile air pollution inspection station, which also happened to be adjacent to a Yaqui Native American village. The Yaquis had fled Sonora, Mexico, as war refugees during the Mexican Revolution and built their village on the edge of town. As Tucson grew in the 20th Century, the village had been incorporated into the city, but it still retained a separate identity.

I was jogging past during a holiday - Easter, I think - when I saw a group of Yaqui men doing a gentler jog of their own: a tribal dance, in full regalia. They saw me, and nodded to each other. They sped up and drew up next to me, and in a kind of mocking tribute, we jogged side by side for a time.
(Perv With A Dog had his eyes pecked out by scrub jays on, Sun 26 Jan 2014, 18:00, 5 replies)

running down a hillside
wearing camouflage gear, covered in mud, screaming at the top of my lungs and shooting every fucker i saw with paintballs.
best sunday ever.
( Smash Monkey lowering the tone of the whole internet, Sun 26 Jan 2014, 16:00, 8 replies)

I beat Dr.Chinaman in a beauty contest
there were only 2 of us, and he's an ugly cunt
( H.B.Mupps, Sun 26 Jan 2014, 14:21, 1 reply)

I unexpectedly had a tall woman with massive norks pull me. I knew her slightly and knew that she was single and having a dry spell, so I went to hers and had massive shagging.

Then I realized that no one I tell will ever believe it, which made it even better.
(Shimrod, Sun 26 Jan 2014, 11:58, 1 reply)

It was in the middle of Oman.
I was driving home from Salalah, which took me right across the middle of the desert where it's as flat and bleak as Keira Knightly's chest. Straight road for miles and nothing to see other than the occasional dust devil.

Out in the middle of nothing a bunch of cars were pulled off onto the sand. About a dozen young guys were off a couple hundred feet into the desert playing soccer. As I passed half of them raised their arms in victory.

I'm not sure who enjoyed it more, them scoring a goal or me witnessing a random moment of exuberance.
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Sun 26 Jan 2014, 11:46, 2 replies)

I`m happy that one of the HR witches got asked to leave last week , I`d had an argument with her a few years previously where she thought it reasonable that I come in about 15 times (on my rest days) through the year for about an hour each time . I wipe my butt on her P45 . Made my day .
(Helikaon, Sun 26 Jan 2014, 10:19, 3 replies)

Charming Chav
I was walking back from work in the rain on a Saturday, in a foul mood due to the combination of a crap day, soaked shoes and having to work during the weekend.

Suddenly a track-suited and hoodied chav walking towards me poked his emaciated and pale face under the edge of my broken umbrella and I stiffened, expecting to be called a cunt, grabbed by the chest, offered drugs, told to go back to my own country or threatened with rape (all of which has happened before with this type).

Instead, he looked deep into my eyes, murmured 'you're beautiful' and was gone.

He must have been on some very good drugs or his vision was blurred by the rain as my thunderous face and bird's nest of rain-frizzed hair would not have made me any more of an oil-painting than I am at the best of times but still, my day suddenly became a lot brighter.
(snakelady, Sun 26 Jan 2014, 9:08, 4 replies)

I got second prize in a beauty contest
Won a tenner.
(McChinaman banned, Sun 26 Jan 2014, 5:27, 2 replies)

IN 2014, FUCK SHITPANTS NUGENT

( BraynDedd Natasha Kaplinsky's labia majora, Sat 25 Jan 2014, 23:47, Reply)

My cat came back from the dead!!
Well, he disappeared and despite knocking on doors, putting out flyers etc we couldn't find him.

Then he was found splattered on a nearby road, so I scraped him up and had him cremated…

Two days later he strolled in, a little thin but healthy. We think he'd been accidentally shut in a shed or garage.

I was about to get into the shower but instead tore downstairs naked and opened a can of cat food double-quick, as per his peremptory instructions.

Dunno whose cat we cremated. Nobody's come forward to claim it. It was a big strapping well-fed neutered tom like Tim. Somebody must be missing it.

But hey, Tim came back!
(Juan Quar is clinging to her front teeth on, Sat 25 Jan 2014, 21:12, 5 replies)

Bedtime story
As I was getting ready to go to bed, I took off my T-shirt only to discover a wart on my stomach. I had never had a wart before, and I wondered what I should do with it. Should I put some cream on it? cut it off? or just leave it unmolested. As I pondered my options I prodded it with my finger and to my surprise it came off. Turned out it wasn't a wart but a fleshy tomato seed that had gone down my top. Delicious.
(Coresink is almost an anagram of foreskin, Sat 25 Jan 2014, 16:35, 2 replies)

PROTIP: nobody else gives a fuck about your kids you bunch of meaningless pricks.

( BraynDedd Natasha Kaplinsky's labia majora, Sat 25 Jan 2014, 16:35, 8 replies)

It was a freezing cold day in the depths of winter.
We were trying to keep the lights to a minimum in the house in case, by some miracle, the baby dropped off. My wife and I must have had ten hours' sleep between us over the past few days, and when we weren't directly roused by the underweight little tyke's cries for food, we were awoken by sudden and crippling anxiety attacks that pulled us out of bed to check that everything was OK.

It was getting late in the afternoon and there was hardly a thing left in the cupboards. Forget any thoughts of a slap-up meal for the festive season; my wife had to eat, the baby had to eat...I had to eat. As I stared morosely out of the window in search of an idea, the realisation struck me with all the warmth and festive cheer of a hearty chorus of carol-singers: Tesco's was still open!
( .Yeti. El amor en los tiempos del cólera, Sat 25 Jan 2014, 13:56, 9 replies)

might sound a bit odd
but one of the things that can always make me happy is to be indoors during a violent thunderstorm, alone, blaring Mussorgsky's Night on Bald Mountain and flailing around the room doing my drunken conductor bit.
i don't question it, i just enjoy it :)
( Smash Monkey lowering the tone of the whole internet, Sat 25 Jan 2014, 13:39, 10 replies)

omg my kids there the best thing in the werld they really are
i never moan about not having enough sleep or time or money or the house being a mess or not being able to go out for a beer with my mates whenever i want to
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Sat 25 Jan 2014, 13:07, Reply)

I had decided to surprise my son with a cup of tea
So I went up into his room only to find him with his headphones on, frantically masturbating. Barely able to control my sniggers, I went downstairs where all of the girls in his class happened to be, and got them to come up and have a look.

They were even more amused than I was.

I left the cup of tea on his bedside table, but he must not have noticed as he hasn't said anything yet.
(Eukanuba, Sat 25 Jan 2014, 12:22, 2 replies)

Like Ol' Blue Eyes himself
I went to a dance not long ago - a wannabe rave, but poorly publicized, so turnout was low. The DJ was spinning some dub step anthem, when I noticed a man in the hall who appeared to be nearly 70 years old. Curious, I approached him at the bar, and asked if he liked the music. The fellow paused, then answered diplomatically: "It's just like Sinatra."
(Perv With A Dog had his eyes pecked out by scrub jays on, Sat 25 Jan 2014, 10:41, 1 reply)

Herb Alpert's Taxi Driver's story reminded me.
My dad had died, and I was clearing out his flat. Not the greatest job I've ever had to do, and I was feeling very low indeed.

I was going through a wardrobe in what had once been my bedroom, and looking through coat pockets before chucking them in the bag for the charity shop. In one pocket, I found a plastic film canister. Looking inside I found 38 MASSIVE DRUGS. I had stashed them there a couple of years before and forgotten all about them. It cheered up an otherwise shitty day.
( The Awful Puppy Bakery is still bored, Sat 25 Jan 2014, 5:04, 4 replies)

I once bought a carton of eggs
And all 6 turned out to be double-yolkers. Good times.
(Rilux might be pregnant and has bum-aids, Sat 25 Jan 2014, 4:09, 4 replies)