i declare this to be the best qotw ever
i'm assuming i get to pick the winner? the winner is nameless for his lack of bumhole/bumbag story. that story really moved me.
( The Doveston haunted by the memory of his own amnesia, Thu 20 Dec 2012, 11:19, 1 reply)

After the work Xmas party last night
I deserve a fucking knighthood for getting in to the office today
( emvee cruor deo cruoris, Thu 20 Dec 2012, 10:40, 15 replies)

David Rappaport
I once saw an interview with David Rappaport, the dwarf actor famous for Time Bandits, among many other appearances. He was, naturally, talking about his experiences as a dwarf, and how you have to take control of your life and overcome adversity.

Before becoming a successful actor, he had gained a degree, become a semi-professional drummer, and married and had a family. The program was quite simply one of the most inspirational and soul-affirming things I had ever seen, and I came away full of hope, admiration and a desire to try to emulate his confidence and resolve.

Two weeks later I heard that he'd committed suicide. I still don't know how to process that.
(moon monkey is busy making memories worth repressing, Thu 20 Dec 2012, 10:31, 2 replies)

Used to work with a bloke who had a terrible stammer.
He also had a robust sense of humour.

He would always start a conversation with the phrase "Can I have a quick word?" only it would take him at least a minute to say it.
(Barnetboy, Thu 20 Dec 2012, 9:46, 4 replies)

Not about me personally, but I look after the cheeky bugger.
No names to protect the innocent and all that jazz, etc, fluffy kittins will be saved.

Severe Cerebral Palsy is the unfortunate bane of this person's life, and communication is slow, often a simple sentence can take 10+min.

Limited movement in their limbs means they cannot eat, write or simply wipe their own arse. And has been like this for the last 30+ years.

They have overcome the shitty side of their affliction by having a sense of humour, a laugh that will have you smiling bigger and wider than anything you will ever experience.

And mischievous to boot. Anyone who has had their foot run over by a powered mobility chair know that they are very, VERY heavy. Oh, and rather quiet.

Sometimes people moan about having nothing more than a common cold, or having a bad back. I used to do this. After working for a good few months now with this individual who has overcome a possible lifetime of living in a care home only to growl and tell social services et al to bugger off to living in their own place, having their own say and take on what they do on a day to day basis makes me think that this person, a human being, has overcome more adversity than I can care to imagine.

I'm cooking them Christmas dinner on Christmas Day.
Nom Nom.
( Tesco Quality 60.825659, -0.788337, Wed 19 Dec 2012, 23:47, 11 replies)

nameless let rip with an earthshaking splatterfart bellowing his challenge like a bull elephant seal.
Gonzo looked up from examining the droplets of baby oil glistening on his chest hairs and responded with a resounding splatterfart of his own, his Pringles tin acting like an echo chamber. The soundwave caused some of the lime jelly to spill out of the paddling pool.
Nameless began to oil himself up in preparation for the fight to come. He'd been rehearsing this fight in his mind, and what was left of his intestines for weeks now, loading himself up with spicy curries washed down with fizzy pop. He was sure that Pringles tin or no Pringles tin, Gonzo would end this day defeated.
Gonzo waited patiently. To him this was just another challenge, and he had never lost one yet. Still in his prime, he wasn't about to relinquish his hold on the remote with the Hollyoaks Omnibus about to start in ten minutes. The Chinese Food was already ordered and he had his pick from his b3ta harem to hold hands with, all he needed to do was send nameless packing with his carrier bag between his legs in shame.
To Be Continued...
( stuj (^(^;;^)^) GO TEAM SPIDERS!(^(^;;^)^), Wed 19 Dec 2012, 12:38, 22 replies)

I was upset by what an online bully typed in response to what I'd posted on a website
But I got over it.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Wed 19 Dec 2012, 11:56, 50 replies)

This QOTW must surely go to
the few people who've managed to post sincere, poignant stories despite the constant hooting morons shitting all over every single post. Well done, you all.

Can I suggest an alternative prize: "The 'B3tan who acts most like their dad has accidentally left his computer unlocked, thus allowing his angry, frustrated teenage son to access the internet' Award"

It's a close-run thing, but in the end despite a spirited last-minute slice of sociopathy from Brayndedd, there can only be one winner:

Of course, it's Dr Shambolic! If there's one B3tan who embodies the wonderful spirit of a thirteen-year-old boy who's just realised that the internet is a magical place in which he can insult anyone he likes without recourse, then it's him. While the rest of us grew up and became actual adult humans, he's bravely stayed behind, bashing his keyboard with furiously clenched fists, screaming nonsensical insults at random strangers - keeping the angry misunderstood adolescent dream alive for us all.

We love you Dr Shambolic, you stunted, furious moron. Never change!
(Internet White Knight, Wed 19 Dec 2012, 6:07, 125 replies)

I was born in Coventry
which is pretty much the Canada of the West Midlands. The cunts I had the pleasure of sharing a classroom with damn near destroyed my life. Now I'm spoiled rotten by a sugar daddy 13 years my junior. I'd say karma works nicely.
( LittleWhiteTreat, Wed 19 Dec 2012, 6:05, 28 replies)

Just when you think it's all better ....
For me, overcoming adversity has had unexpected consequences. I’ve suffered from depression on and off for about 15 years and for the last half of this period have had to use drugs to maintain a normal life. For the last year I have been on a minimum dose but was frightened to give up, finally doing so when I went on holiday and forgot to pack them.

Adversity over or so I thought. Just before I went away, I developed permanent pins and needles in my left foot, followed a few weeks later by spasms in my left calf and foot. I was diagnosed with a trapped nerve, which didn’t surprise me as I’d been doing some heavy work and I’m not used to that. I was booked for a scan on my return from holiday, so off I went to Greece and had a good time. However, my leg got worse and in the last few days I started noticing that my left hand was getting weak and I was finding using it to eat difficult.

I got back and went for the scan. I had to sign a consent form and found I could barely write - I’m left-handed. Obviously I realised this was not a trapped nerve, so I went to my GP, who got more tests done. My guess was brain tumour, motor neurone disease or MS. First one was right. I’m one of the 4500 people in the UK who get a primary brain tumour for no discernible reason every year. About 25% of these get a grade 4 glioblastoma, the most common. It’s malignant and 100% fatal and this is what I have. Adversity was back with a vengeance.

At this point you enter the cancer treatment system. I’m fortunate to live in the Manchester area so for me this was Hope hospital and Christies. I was given the choice of no treatment, in which case I had 3-4 months, near total removal of the tumour which would give me the longest time but would leave me totally paralysed on my left-hand side or removal of as much of the tumour that they could get at safely, which would give me less time but some degree of recovery from the paralysis. I chose the last of these and am I glad I did. When I came round, I was totally paralysed on the left, but after 3 weeks I started to get movement back in my arm and leg, one joint at a time. Now, 3 months later after physiotherapy, I’m reasonably functional and can stand up for several minutes unsupported. I am expected to be able to walk again within a month. Adversity much reduced. I’ve also had radiotherapy for 6 weeks and have tolerated this with very minimal side effects. Again, very lucky.

Now all I can do is hope for as long as possible and try to do as much as I can in the time I have left. I’m 58 and the average time of survival from removal of the tumour is about 15 months. My chances of reaching 60 in February 2014 are well less than 50% in theory, but the statistics are misleading. Medical statistics are medians, not means and the statistics published cover all patients. Factors like my age and my good neurological condition give me a better chance than some of longer survival, and there are a small but significant number of patients surviving for 2 to 5 years.

Length for me is the thing I want most
(Dr Arsenic Making bad coffee since 1978, Tue 18 Dec 2012, 23:01, 17 replies)

I died
Then I got better.

Now I'm billionaire.
(Barnetboy, Tue 18 Dec 2012, 17:09, 5 replies)

Really shouldn't re-re-Pea this but it's a true story so hey ho.
www.b3ta.com/questions/stalked/post118316
/edit; should point out this is very badly written, sorry.
/edit/edit; Ooh I'm ten years old!
( SauronWibble I'll hold it, you lick it..., Tue 18 Dec 2012, 11:37, 44 replies)

In 2004 I was a successful entrepreneur
Fresh out of uni a friend and I had a startup company on the south coast. We were self-financed, we'd put our own cash in and it was great. We were zipping all around the country in his Audi or my classic Vauxhall, buying old IT equipment and selling it to other startups.

And it all collapsed. But not in the usual drank-too-much sort of way where young guys piss their future down the drain. We suffered a string of unrelated coincidences that brought us to our knees.

We started by investing in a van, since the business had grown to the point where we were collecting or delivering hundreds of systems at a time. And we paid in cash. Only the van suffered brake failure and crashed 30 miles after we bought it, wiping out the investment and leaving us massively out of pocket. We tried using our cars to keep up the deliveries, but my Vauxhall blew its engine, so we went from three vehicles to one in the space of a week.

The following Monday, I was awoken by a loud banging on the door. Two massive blokes in black leather jackets were there to turf me out of the flat; apparently the landlord hadn't been passing our rent on to the bank to cover his mortgage, so we were given a one-week notice to vacate. So I moved onto the sofa of the business partner.

We were based in Portsmouth, very near the football ground. SO close, in fact, that after one fateful match against Southampton an army of angry fans stormed through the industrial estate where we were based. They smashed up our lock-up and wrote off our latest batch of machines, which were written off at cost price instead of resale.

With no vehicles, no stock and all our cash "pending" from insurance payouts, we weren't liquid enough to buy more stock. Banks wouldn't lend because we were still a new company. We lost clients, and the company folded. That's when my girlfriend left me. Maybe she was just a gold-digger, or maybe she was tired of consoling me, especially at the thought of attending my grandmother's funeral, who'd died that week too.

So in the space of about six weeks I lost a car, a van, a flat, my job, my girlfriend and a relative, in the most unavoidable of circumstances. I had to slink back to my parents with my tail between my legs and start my life from scratch. My business partner had it worse, lapsing back into the heroin addiction he'd been fighting since he was a teenager.

But it's all fine now. I've since moved to Poland, bought a flat and another classic car, and I work as a private contractor in the business district, working a four-day week with some pretty impressive views from my office. My girlfriend's lovely and this week my first book has been approved by the Ministry of Education for national use, so my name will be in every technical college across the country. And my business partner recovered, went on to study law and is now making a name for himself in London.

So while this post my contain massive amounts of croissant-chewing smugness, I feel that a modicum of it is partially deserved. Fuck you, feeling-sorry-for-yourself.
( Grrrmachine the indifference engine, Tue 18 Dec 2012, 11:33, 33 replies)

Goodbye arsehole.
I have had crohn's disease for nigh on 7 years now and admittedly it hasn't killed me, but it fucked my life up that much that it might has well have done.

When your 19/20 and your going to drop the kids off at the pool at least 60+ times a day (no joke) and with less than a minutes warning (if lucky), life becomes a little difficult. You cant leave the house for fear of dropping bombs when not over a valid target.

I started to get treated and flew through conventional treatments like steroids and was put onto immunosuppressants which again failed to work. I then was put onto "biologics" which are like hardcore immunosuppressants you have by a drip or self injection. No they did work however I then developed a narrowing of my intestine and the only way to deal with that is surgery.

3 months and 18 days ago, I had a proctocolectomy. For those of you who dont know what it is, some very nice people at the Royal London Hospital surgically removed about a foot and a half of large intestine and my arsehole, yes I am officially a proper barbie/ken bum.

I've been left with a permanent colostomy which to get at 24 years old is a bit of a head fuck but it changed my life overnight. I've gone from not being able to leave the house and get on public transport or go anywhere really to being back to normal and being able to do what I want, when I want. It's fucking amazing, I almost wish I had done it sooner. Shitting in a bag for the rest of my life is a small price to pay in my eyes to get my life back.

Better a bag than a box!

apologies for the lack of funnnys

It was about a foot and a half once out.

(I'm only putting this link up for people that are interested, its not about hits it's there to try and help people understand. lifeisballbagthenyoudie.wordpress.com/ )
(bumless The man with the hole in the middle, Tue 18 Dec 2012, 2:20, 80 replies)

I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb
www.lovehoney.co.uk/product.cfm?p=11899
(Elephant Balderdash attempting to bottle the absurd, Mon 17 Dec 2012, 20:38, 41 replies)

this morning I was making a cup of tea
only to discover my milk had gone off

so I had to wait until I got to work to make myself a cuppa instead
( Reme Philips laid an epic dump on, Mon 17 Dec 2012, 20:01, 25 replies)

I overcame bullying on the internet by being too thick to even realise when I was being bullied.
b3ta.com/questions/overcomingadversity/post1809923
( Dr. Shambolic je suis charlie, Mon 17 Dec 2012, 18:22, 10 replies)

Not me, but my brother
My older brother used to be quite a useful sportsman. Captain of the hockey team, rugby player, football wizard, swimmer, you name it, he could play it (fnar, fnar).
Then he found booze.
After this his sporting activity dropped off to the level that he would turn up on a Sunday to play football and spend half the match running around and the other half throwing up on the sidelines.
Eventually, he found himself a nice lady and became a bit more settled. He stopped drinking so much and decided to get back into a bit more sport. He started training and entered to run in the New York marathon to raise money for charity.
Shortly before this was due to happen he started to feel a little ill but ignored the doctor and got on the plane and ran the marathon. He was a little bit annoyed with the fact he ran it in just under 4 hours 20 minutes, but had completed it.
When he got home he couldn't seem to shift this illness, he started losing weight and went for more tests.
A few days later we get a call and after a few stressful hours brother is tracked down and whisked off to hospital with ulcerated colitis.
A few days later, he's been operated on, had his large intestine removed and has lost a third of his body weight in less than a week.
He's had a hard road to recovery. Infections plagued his first few months. He was too weak to move out of the house for weeks. The firm he worked at went bust while he was recovering. He now has a colostomy bag. Our mum died shortly after his wedding.
Despite all that he still remains upbeat and will never complain about his condition. He's got a new, better job. Has run a sub 3 hour marathon. Competes in triathalons. And has now announced he's going to enter an Iron Man (look it up if you don't know, it's ludicrous).
No funnies, but just thought I might share.
( monkeyboyalpha jumping on the bandwagon since, Mon 17 Dec 2012, 16:15, 4 replies)

Suppositories
are fucking useless. As far as I'm concerned, you can shove them up yer arse.
( social hand grenade I was a lurker before you were a lurker, Mon 17 Dec 2012, 15:13, 2 replies)

yarr
well, after being told it would happen for over 30 years, i've now gone blind in my left eye. on the downside, i walk into things a lot and miss when i try to pick stuff up. i also can't ride my bike anymore.
on the upside, i can now legitimately dress as a pirate for fancy dress parties :D
( Smash Monkey lowering the tone of the whole internet, Mon 17 Dec 2012, 15:06, 10 replies)

Waiting for the results...
One morning, setting off in the car, I happened to catch sight of myself in the mirror, and was rather startled to see that my eyes were a vivid shade of yellow where they would normally be white. Now I know that can mean something rather serious - hepatitis.

I was abroad, visiting my wife's family at the time, and they couldn't have been more supportive - whisking me off to a private clinic for immediate tests, then setting me up in bed to rest, with food and drink served at my slightest whim, while we anxiously waited for the results.

As I lay there, I pondered the pivotal nature of this moment. My life may well be taking a different path from now on. I knew that the most likely forms of hepatitis were manageable, but even so, it was going to change things for me completely. Still, I felt calm about it, probably because I was surrounded by caring, supportive family.

Until the results came in, showing negative for anything life-changing. I found myself unceremoniously kicked out of bed, the beers vanished, and it was apparently my turn to do the washing up.
(moon monkey is busy making memories worth repressing, Mon 17 Dec 2012, 12:43, 16 replies)

I had a mental breakdown
do not recommend it, shaking, talking to yourself, proper full on crying and general falling apart
Still have anxiety issues... but its ALOT better, I can now sit down for a cup of tea in a cafe without wanting to run away :)

There is help out there - do not be afraid to ask for help
( SkUG >_O i got a couple of stitches in my eyeball... ow, Mon 17 Dec 2012, 12:28, 28 replies)

Bah, sprouts
'Twas the night before the commercially-perpetuated non-denominational appropriation of a Pagan winter festival, and all through the starter home purchased on a tracker mortgage under a council JSA reinsertion scheme for single parents supporting multiple sheds,
Not a creature was acting in a manner suggesting an intention to commit terrorist acts liable to cause bodily harm or damage to property, whether at home or abroad, not even a badger employed in a laboratory testing programme under an equal opportunities scheme designed to prevent discrimination against candidates of different mouseness,

*runs out of paper*
( .Yeti., Mon 17 Dec 2012, 12:24, 1 reply)

T'was the night before Christmas
Search still wasn’t fixed
QOTW was still bollocks
Full of posts that were shit
( Fucking hell Jeff I am not a robot, Mon 17 Dec 2012, 11:52, 6 replies)

'twas the week before Christmas,
and there was quite a din
from some shitcunt prick screaming
"STAY ABOUT FROM MY BINS!"
( BraynDedd Natasha Kaplinsky's labia majora, Mon 17 Dec 2012, 11:40, Reply)

zhinka has overcome being an eskimo mentalist (eskimental if you will) to become a wonderful qotw nutter.
Round of applause here, ladies and gentlemen.

Edit for The Doveston: b3ta.com/questions/overcomingadversity/post1809351
( BraynDedd Natasha Kaplinsky's labia majora, Mon 17 Dec 2012, 11:26, 14 replies)

Twas a week before Christmas
Two years ago.
My best friend Richard Glowa
Said give me drugs
And I said ‘Hell no-a’

He came as he went
With a whimper of fear
But WHERE THE FUCK ARE THE MODS WHO WERE SO HAPPY WITH THE “STEP” HAMMER EARLIER THIS YEAR?
( Monty Boyce, My cheese game is strong, Mon 17 Dec 2012, 11:25, 6 replies)