a little father-daughter violence.
Junior cloud 1 is fucking ruined. Despite our plans for well behaved respectful children, we have succeeded in raising a 4 year old spoilt bastard who takes every opportunity to throw a proper wobbler. She recently decided that she will not do any kind of time-out. If we try she'll just trash everything in reach.

We've therefore resorted to the bear-hug time out. If she won't sit on her own, we'll 'help' her. It was during one such occasion that she decided the best course of action would be to chomp on my forarm. She was biting hard enough to break skin and the only thing I could think was to pull my arm in to hold some sort of headlock and stop her really clamping down and removing a chunk of flesh. I had my own teeth clenched and was holding a strained red grimace in pain.

It was this point that my wife walked in the room. The look on her face showed that she thought i'd lost it completely and was trying to strangle our first-born. I still have the scar and thanks to the patience I thought was beyond me, she still has her teeth.
(Greencloud Wanted to go fishing on, Sat 11 Dec 2010, 8:43, 19 replies)

Cradle snatching?
I've mentioned Lindsay, the Kiwi bloke whose Land Rover was stolen from outside a shipping agent's office as he bought it a ticket to the Shaky Isles. Here's another of his adventures.

We were working on a construction site miles from anywhere but still this side of the black stump and there was a married worker's caravan camp. Lindsay wasn't long married. His wife Rae joined him from NZ two months after he arrived since he had to get a caravan and place to live first. That was only a few weeks before I arrived on the site.

Rae looked about 16. She was petite, slim, came from the southernmost part of the South Island so had never got a lot of sun, had very short hair. Tongues started to wag. Eventually the site manager "spoke to him". So he produced a marriage certificate. She was 24.
(Redemption blamed it on the Bossa Nova since, Sat 11 Dec 2010, 7:39, Reply)

Watching the Karate Kid part 2
And my nuts were itching furiously. I felt my wife stiffen up and heard her gasp.

She thought I was wanking to Ralph Macchio breaking the ice.
(CactusZack Shaved his coin purse on, Sat 11 Dec 2010, 7:22, 4 replies)

one more then ill shut up !
...until i think of another
when my son was about 5 or 6 my mate paul took him to his first football match, paul said that as they are getting near the ground son said he needed the loo so they went into some public toilets, which were empty at first, paul helps son who tells him that when he's excited he wees very fast then decides to use the facilites himself, paul is using the urinal with son stood next to him and just as another person walked in son said "i can see you're very excited uncle paul..."
(dirtycowgirl saw underworld and they blew me away, Sat 11 Dec 2010, 6:21, Reply)

it looked a lot better then it actually was
when my sister and i were teenagers our nan, who lived alone, was very ill so my mum and auntie were taking it in turns to stay with her,mum during the week but on fridays the aunt, who lived in london would come and take over for the weekend, one particular w/end the aunt couldn't make it so thinking that mum would be gone sister and i decided to do what all good teenagers should and throw a party,
we decided that the safest course of action to minimise damage would be to remove all breakable items - including a very large collection of china ornaments from their shelves in the living room, stash them in mums bedroom and lock her door - however said ornaments had gotten dusty on the shelves and so on friday afternoon as we were taking them down we were washing them in a bowl of water...as we're doing this we hear a key in the front door and then mum calling out that she was home as auntie iris had made it down...my sister and i are exchanging horrified looks over the bowl of water and assorted ornaments around us on the floor as our mum walks in the living room - sees what we are doing and says "oh you girls, you girls... at which point the phone rings, off she goes to answer it and we hear her telling whoever it was what wonderful daughters she has because she came home early to find us cleaning her ornaments and it was a bit of a shame she had ruined the 'surprise' we were clearly planning for her and how happy we made her

me and me sister weren't too happy spending the evening at either ends of our road sending would-be partygoers away tho
(dirtycowgirl saw underworld and they blew me away, Sat 11 Dec 2010, 6:04, 1 reply)

During my GCSE's
I had an exam in the morning with a few hours before an afternoon exam. I decided to go to a friend in the village's house to revise and chat a little.

Ever the dedicated student, I found my mate watching lord of the rings in his bed. Now his bed was kinda like a bunk bed but the bottom bunk was a sofa. I sat watching while he lay in his bed. His phone rang, a mutual friend on the phone. I hear my mate say "Hi, I'm just watching lord of the rings in bed with Mong.". I cringe and prepaid for the gay taunts to follow.

As a sidenote, we have shared a bed several times in recent years and are both comfortable in our sexuality.
(Mong goose, Sat 11 Dec 2010, 4:23, Reply)

background info:
my grown up mixed race son has inherited his mothers warped sense of humour and therefore had decided to go to a halloween party as a slave complete with a very realistic fake ball and chain

i had ordered a new sofa, which i had arranged for a courier through u-ship to collect for me once it was ready
the night before the day it was arriving son decided to crash on sofa in backroom/kitchen as he had been out until early hours, but knew that when it arrived (expected at 9.30) he was going to have to help carry it into house
8am - knock on door - i answer half asleep and expecting postman but it is (very early and very black) courier, i mutter that i need a coffee (he'd driven from london so im guessin he does too) and he follows me through to kitchen....first thing he notices - sons drumkit "who plays the drums?"...second thing he notices - slave ball and chain which son has left hung on hi-hat - at which point son emerges from under throw on sofa stands up n says "mine.....
(dirtycowgirl saw underworld and they blew me away, Sat 11 Dec 2010, 3:55, Reply)

these are not the droids
you are looking for
(weaselinajetengine, Sat 11 Dec 2010, 2:26, Reply)

Back when I was an English teacher
I was talking about gangs and such, and mentioned the "gang" I had been in as a youngster. We basically hung out in one boy's shed, which we adorned with heavy metal posters, smoked illicit cigarettes and thought we were well cool. (We were 10). We also had a radio, which I referred to as a "tranny" - short for transistor, a pretty common epithet.

But the kids thought I was talking about a transvestite. From then on they regularly asked if I knew any trannys, if I kept them in my shed and what I did with them.

Little buggers.
(McChinaman banned, Sat 11 Dec 2010, 1:55, 1 reply)

my friend's brother used to play on the lacrosse team that his dad coached
one saturday the rest of the lads were going out. warren had not intended to go, but then changed his mind. however, he only had his lacrosse trousers on.

"don't worry, son," said his dad. "we can just swop." so they headed into the gents and each pulled off their pants. just as they were standing there in their jockstraps, about to hand over their pants, the door opened and another man stood there. he looked at them for a minute. then he said,

"i'll just leave you boys to it then..." and headed off.
( rachelswipe with a fork, Fri 10 Dec 2010, 23:34, Reply)

A true narrative of what happened to my brother and his girlfriend
So my brother takes his girlfriend camping. They are both in their mid forties, my mum had two marriages and I'm the youngest of the latter one.

Anywho they set off for the camping site with tent and air bed and other camping paraphernalia and when they arrive it's quite quiet. They pitch the tent in a nice quiet little spot and decide to go for a walk to the local shops to buy some wine and beers. They get back and proceed to get rather merry in the tent and time goes by so it ends up being quite late by the time they think about going to sleep and fail to notice, whilst using the portaloos, that the camp site has filled up and their nice quiet spot is not so quiet anymore.

Well his girlfriend insists that they must blow up the airbed now, even though that are both rather well pickled. She couldnt possibly sleep on the floor for one night. So my brother starts blowing up the inflatable mattress. Once it's nearly done he asks her how firm she wants the bed to be.

Brother: how's that?
Gf: oh it's getting quite firm now, can you get it a bit harder?
B: sure I can. (pause) how about now?
Gf: oh that's lovely and hard now. I don't like them soft. Do you think it'll stay up all night?
B: well if you don't flop up and down on it too much it shouldnt go down too much. Just try and be a bit gentle. I haven't used it in a while so I'm not sure how it will behave, it might leak.

So off to sleep they go. In the morning they wake up and are getting various looks from their camping neighbours. Looks ranging from amusement to disgust. Sure it had been late when they put the bed up but not so late that all those camping close enough had heard the entire exchange, innocent as it may have been. They are not sure why they are getting these looks until they think back through the fog of the hangover to the night before and realisation dawns. They moved their tent that morning.

To this day if I want to embarrass my brother I just have to mention blow up beds.
(WineSoaked_Hedgehog If in danger or doubt, lose control, flap about, Fri 10 Dec 2010, 23:21, Reply)

Apparently a good way to get a dirty look at the supermarket
is to get a load of alcohol, and a single packet of nappies. At the checkout ask them how much the nappies are. When they tell you the price, decide not to buy them.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Fri 10 Dec 2010, 22:26, 9 replies)

twister
one drunken night at my friend's house, we decided to play twister. it seemed like a good idea at the time, but remember, we were both pissed.
the game started out fairly well, but it didn't take long before we ended up as an intertwined mass of giggling, drunken female limbs. also, due to the fact that it was summer and incredibly hot, we were playing in our underwear. we had decided that this would make movement within the game much easier.
just as we collapsed on top of each other after a particularly difficult move, laughing like a pair of almost-naked, booze-soaked mongs, my mate's boyfriend walked in.
it took quite some time to convince him that no, we really weren't interested in putting on a lesbian show for him.
( Smash Monkey lowering the tone of the whole internet, Fri 10 Dec 2010, 22:20, Reply)

Dad 1 - 0 Daughter
Hide and seek with the daughter. Made a fake me by hiding lots of cuddly toys under her bed covers and hid behind the door.

She fell for it like a sucker.

Me - 1. 3 year old daughter - 0
( useless_rocker twitter.com/phillipteague, Fri 10 Dec 2010, 19:00, 4 replies)

It would appear that I am gay.
A previous post (through some odd conection) reminded me of something from my youth:
A young Me was trying to explain to a school friend how a transvestite (famous in the '80s but I can't recall) was surprisingly convincing. I should mention that the setting for this explanation was the boys' changing rooms and that, at the precise moment I uttered "he even has good legs" the PE teacher walked in.
Occasion two:
A male friend and I were wandering the streets of my home town at around 21:00 -- we were a little tipsy and so walking next to each other and occasionally bumping into each other. As we walked past a bar we had never been in the guy on the door acosted us and said "Gents, gents, you'll like it here". We did like it -- there were good looking girls and the bar staff were friendly. I then went to the toilet and found, to my confusion, that guys were talking in there and one even seemed to be looking at my bum -- it then occured that this was a gay club....
I did goback there in my late twenties as it was a relaxed and friendly place to go with no "you looking at my bird?!?!" crap.
Then, one day, I picked up a guy:
I was depressed and lonely and bored and drunk -- so I started chatting up this guy and ended up going home with him. As far as "doing anything" goes we just kissed and I decided I was straight.
So, there you have it, my life as a gay man. I even missed a few stories about nights at the gay bar for he sake of brevity.
(Me, I'm not... in any way intoxicated, Fri 10 Dec 2010, 18:53, 4 replies)

PhD research
A fellow tutee was doing his PhD research into shining lasers at windows and measuring the reflections to eavesdrop conversations in the room (basically spy stuff back in the early 80's). In the lab, for calibration and tests, he used to use latex sheets with a mirror adhered to them to prove the concept. And of course he was wonderfully socially naive too, but seeing as latex sheets were easily available at the chemists...

"Hi, can I have 2 gross of condoms please?"
"Erm, yes sir - do you want them with teats, or without?"
"Oh, it doesn't matter - I cut the ends off them before using them anyway"

Bless.
( 0nyx, Fri 10 Dec 2010, 18:25, 2 replies)

Children and animals
About five years ago now two of my friends had gone to a big open-air fair near where we lived. After pottering around for a while and getting bored, they decided to leave and started walking back to the spot they were due to be picked up from. As they were walking through the rather large carpark they found a dead hedgehog on the ground. They were both standing and staring at it when a group of about thirty schoolkids came around the corner. Friend K looked at friend A and bellowed "A! I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU JUST KILLED THAT HEDGEHOG!" before pulling a suitably shocked face.

As A tells it, he had to run the best part of a mile before they stopped chasing him...
( MatJ LOOK, Fri 10 Dec 2010, 18:24, Reply)

You must be misjaken, ma'am.
I popped into the chemist one morning to pick up my prescription. I didn't live in the city at the time. I'd been crashing at a mates' house for a couple of days for the express purpose of drinking, and I'd unexpectedly run out of these quite vital drugs; fortunately I had the prescription on me.
Now, this was Glasgow, where they occasionally flirt with heroin rehabilitation; nonetheless, in my unthinking hungover state I was surprised when the pharmacist apparently thought I'd run out of another chemical substance entirely and beckoned me round to the little window out of sight of decent people where they dispense small vials of diamorphine substitute.

Hugely affronted by this, I went on a psychopathic rampage of destruction, destroying everything in sight and - well no, of course, I just politely explained what I actually required. They still took far too long to serve me.
When I returned and recounted this, it was pointed out that since I looked as you'd expect someone who'd been drinking themselves into a sofa-coma two nights in a row after, it was perhaps an understandable mistake on the part of the pharmaceutical dispensers.

The exact words were: "Fucking hell, have you looked at yourself this morning, Falstaff? You're lucky they didn't force it down your throat."
(Falstaff's Spiritual Successor, Fri 10 Dec 2010, 18:23, Reply)

Back to school
When I met my other half she was working in a girls' boarding school. She had a roster of duties, and on one occasion I got an absolutely filthy and furious look from the owner of a guest house where we'd been staying when I asked her, over breakfast "When do you have to be back at school today?" We used it several more times in other places after that, just to wind people up. Never failed.
(ubergeekian, Fri 10 Dec 2010, 18:04, Reply)

More of not what it sounds like
I recently discovered that a grocery store near us has a UK foods section. I was getting nostalgic looking at the packets of biscuits and mars bars and curry. I saw a can of Heinz Spotted Dick and said to my wife, "Look honey, want some dick?" The look of outraged disgust on the old ladies face as she was looking at tomato sauce sent me into hysterics.

And no, she didn't want any.

And I bought six bottles of lucozade and it's awful.
(CactusZack Shaved his coin purse on, Fri 10 Dec 2010, 17:27, 15 replies)

It's a valid subject!
I did a zoology degree back in the good old days when you could afford to fuck about and put work off for a further few years without incurring the debt of a small third world nation. As part of the course I spent a summer in Portugal doing some research. I was paired with a rather attractive girl from my course which was lucky because the majority looked like Bill Oddie's groupies. One of our experiments involved the requirement to smear the branches of a shrub with vaseline in order to isolate some branches from the local ant population. The next stage of this experiment/folly was to remove any remaining ants from the branches. Essentially we were trying to achieve an ant-free branch. Don't ask why - there was a valid purpose! Anyway the instrument that we were using to remove these ants was called a 'pooter'. For those not in the know this is basically a jar with two pipes running from the lid. It acts as a vacuum - you point one tube at the insect and suck through the other and the insect is sucked into the jar. It's the quickest and easiest way to collect small insect samples without harming them. Some of the ants were persistent little buggers and were trying to crawl their way through the vaseline barrier. And it's for this reason that our professor, who had come to check on our progress, witnessed me standing behind a bush with my research partner on her knees loudly stating "I'm not sucking you off whilst you are all covered in vaseline!". He immediately turned tail and came back half an hour later, whistling loudly as he approached.
(Grezmo, Fri 10 Dec 2010, 16:46, 3 replies)

I didn't break the light! I really didn't
When I was a nipper my parents didn't have a proper bathroom so I'd have a bath at my grandparents house. This usually involved me playing with wind-up toys until my prepubescent epidermis resembled my aging nutsack nowadays. Only less hairy.

Minding my own business with my favourite wind-up turtle and dolphin I was startled by the glass bowl covering the light falling off and shattering on the edge of the bath. As I'm carefully moving to avoid all the hot broken glass in the bath my grandfather and mother start hammering on the door as they'd heard the commotion.

After some quick forensic work by my grandad they came to the conclusion I'd been messing with the glass and knocked it off.

That scene wasn't what it looked like. I was innocent damnit. :(
( Airman Gabber Living life like a 70's BBC presenter, Fri 10 Dec 2010, 16:04, 1 reply)

Speaking of Boots...
I once bought condoms and ear-plugs at the pharmacy counter. It wasn't until later that I realised how that must have looked...
(moon monkey is busy making memories worth repressing, Fri 10 Dec 2010, 16:04, 4 replies)

Geography
My geography teacher always got to class late. One day he arrived just as I was finishing telling a rivetted classmate about a recent purchase.

He caught the end of the conversation. "...so yeah, it keeps it warm when it pops out." I looked up to see teacher looking at me stoically, one eyebrow raised, paused in the doorway.

"Toasters", I blurted out, "we got a new toaster".

Fucking hilarious now I've typed that out. I'll get me coat.
( I have run out of coke is a little sweaty, Fri 10 Dec 2010, 15:56, Reply)

Meths
Going on a cycling/camping holiday with mates many moons ago we were using a meths burning stove caled a Trangia. We went into Boots to buy some of the fuel which you had to buy from behind the counter as they wouldn't sell it to people they thought might be drinking it.

The nice lady asked:

"How many bottles do you need?"

My mate turned to me and said "I think two bottles will be enough for four of us don't you?"

The assistant then put them back under the counter and asked us to leave. Bemused we walked outside only to realise that she thought we were going to drink it. I know we were scruffy fuckers but I didn't think we looked that bad.
(RobNob, Fri 10 Dec 2010, 15:40, 5 replies)

My wife and I were in the kitchen
and I decide to slip a courgette down my trousers, wait for her to notice and then say something on the lines of "this isn't what it looks like".
However, it came out as "It isn. IIEEEEHHHH!! It's freezing". In quite a high pitched squeal followed by a struggle to fish it out as it slid down my leg.
( sandettie light vessel automatic New Twitter - @bollocksreally, Fri 10 Dec 2010, 15:14, 2 replies)

Inspired by a true story...
Years ago I worked as a junior exec in the accounts team for a big distribution business in Birmingham. Sue was the new field sales team leader, and was a brassy petite redhead - her standard introduction in a business meeting to a man she'd never met before was "do you think I'm beautiful, pretty, or attractive?".

I was in my early 20s at the time, and she probably had 15-20 years on me, but she was still pretty sexy to my confused and, I admit, staggeringly naive self. This was compounded by her habit of flirting outrageously with all of us lads, which we returned in kind as best we could. One company Christmas do, though, Sue and I had a drunken conversation where I confessed that I fancied her something rotten, and she confessed that it was mutual but that with her married, being senior to me at work, and having kids only a bit younger than me, it was never going to happen.

Now this could have been her letting me down gently, but something about the way she looked at me after that made me think she was actually serious and really did fancy me quite a bit. She'd joke about it, between us, and she was a regular mainstay of my wankbank for the whole time we worked together, but it went no further.

This was in the very early days of mobile telephony (mostly what looked like a trimphone handset bolted to the top of a car battery) and most car phones were just that - built into the car. She, being a rather successful busineswoman (at the time) had one in her company Rover, and had also splashed out at her own expense on a "car kit" which basically meant the inbound voice came through the radio speakers, while a micropohone the size and shape of an alsatian's happy lipstick got pinned to the driver's side sun shade.

Me and some of the other guys had been to a retail trade show at the NEC, and had taken her car. Being the early 90s, drinking was still practically required at any such event, but the police already took a dim view of drink-driving, so I was the designated driver. Sue had previously worked in the wine trade and has tipped us the wink to talk to an old colleague of hers on the Threshers Wine stand, who'd promised to put aside half a dozen bottles of something for her, with the payoff of a bottle each for us. The boys had necked theirs with lunch, but I, as designated driver (I was most junior, so got that end of the stick a few times), still had mine for later.

Stuck in return traffic on the main road back into Digbeth, we got a call. It was Sue.

After a bit of proper business talk with the various people in the car, Sue asked after her wine delivery. Being Sue, the conversaion went as follows:
SUE: So, Shiny, what have you got for me? I hope it's hard and cylindrical?
ME: I've got you a nice Semillon.
SUE (suddenly serious): Shiny! We said we weren't going to talk about that any more!
ME: Er, Sue, you do know I'm talking about the half crate of white wine your mate on the Threshers stand gave me to give you, right?
SUE: Er.....
REST OF SALES TEAM IN CAR WITH ME: Hahahahahahahah!

The two of us spent months trying to persuade the rest of the team that there was nothing going on and there never had been.
( shinyshinyscalp less a man, more a way of life, Fri 10 Dec 2010, 15:04, Reply)

Massive (non-)drugs and serial barring
I was once asked to leave a pub for racking up some fat lines of coke on the table.

Except I wasn't. It was salt, from the bottom falling out of the salt cellar when I'd picked it up. I'd been idly playing with it and organising it with a beermat.

My protestation that it was salt was met by the angry landlady with:

'Why are you snorting salt?'
'I'm not snorting it. It spilled and I'm playing with it. It doesn't even look like cocaine - it's salt!'
'Oh, so you know what cocaine looks like, do you?'

At which point I gave up and left.

I was later allowed back in but got barred a couple of months later for fighting. I wasn't even involved in the fight. I was sat having a quiet pint in a corner with my friend.

The third and final time I was barred (they always let me back in after a while), it was quite a loud, busy night, and I couldn't really understand what was going on, but from what I could gather I was being barred because someone had spilled a drink on the bar. I was standing on the other side of the room at the time.

Presumably she just thought I looked like a wrongun...
(SnowyTheWereRabbit the Leporid from Hell, Fri 10 Dec 2010, 14:55, 1 reply)

Unbelievably contrived
The benefit of being home alone is that there's no great urgency to get dressed when you get out of the bath. A couple of years ago, I had just got out of the bath and donned my dressing gown which I didn't bother fastening as I didn't see the point, nobody was in.
I switched the TV on and the Olympics was on; women's gymnastics. Looking back, this would already look suspect, and would be only 'the boss coming for dinner' away from an episode of Terry and June. Well, it was either the olympics, or Diagnosis Murder.

I went into the kitchen to get a drink and wandered back through to the living room, only to catch my sleeve on my door handle causing me to throw nearly a pint of Ribena down myself and then throw the glass on the floor, which promptly shattered.
"Arse!" and I picked up as many pieces and shards as possible, and then got the Hoover to clean up the smaller fragments and a towel to mop up the drink.

I start pushing the Hoover back and forth, not being very effective because it's a wooden floor. So I unclipped the pipe and used that. I hadn't noticed the pipe brushing my groin. My todger did however, and went to Defcom 4. Not a semi, not even a quarter, just slightly larger. Just limbering up.
My wet dressing gown was sticking to my legs so I threw it off onto the settee. Job done, I switched off the Hoover and got my towel just as Mrs Sandettie walks in. Seems I'd forgotten she was working half day that day.
She took one look at me bollock naked, holding a towel in one hand, a vacuum cleaner pipe in the other, my slightly expanded member and on the TV a girl in a leotard prancing about doing the splits on a beam.
She looked at me and I just sighed "I aren't even going to bother explaining".
She just spent the rest of the day snickering to herself and coming out with crap puns.

"Hoover hell is that at the door?"
"I'm just Dyson some onions for tea"
etc etc
( sandettie light vessel automatic New Twitter - @bollocksreally, Fri 10 Dec 2010, 14:54, Reply)

I always like to.....
Polish a glass under the table (in a wanking motion) whilst staring at ladies / kids / young boys etc, and when the inevitable look of disgust appears, gently raise the glass to the light.
(bigbear45 scousers are the barnacles of society, Fri 10 Dec 2010, 14:50, 7 replies)