Pea-roast
From the spoilt brats qotw a year or so ago....

----------------------------------------------

A tale of two educations....
I've just got back from a jaunt up to Preston doing a role-play / corporate training day with a lovely group of people. Some of you may know the format - actor role-plays difficult individual who you have to deal with / win over.

Anyway, as I said, a lovely little jolly to the North where the pay is better than being a barman or the other crap jobs 'resting' actors take on.

So, coming back this afternoon, my actor colleague and I get on the London train at Preston, and we take two seats opposite a table of lads.

Now, my first instinct of course is 'oh bollocks, here's trouble all the way back to London'.

Yup, I'm ashamed to say I jumped to conclusions pretty quickly - 4 teenagers, hoodies, phone on the table with the speaker playing a rather bizarrely medley of 80s hits and power ballads (Phil Collins and Tina Turner anyone?) and a couple of them were skinning up. I think you get the idea, and many of you would have probably thought the same.

But no, they weren't too much trouble and kept themselves to themselves and didn't leave the music on for very long.

Turned out two of them were from a rough area of Bristol and two from rough parts of London - they'd been on a week's sailing organised by a charity - I don't know which one, but I guess one that dealt with underprivileged kids.

They were charm personified as a group - friendly, warm, happy to engage in conversation, polite & generally good people.

As we approached Crewe, they started to make a move to get bags out, so I immediately asked if I could grab their table as they got off. Turned out the two Bristolians were changing and the other two were staying on, so I assumed that we wouldn't get the table.

The moment we pulled in, the two London lads offered us the table - both saying they didn't need it any more and besides needed some sleep so it didn't make a difference. A nice little gesture I think you'll agree.

So, my colleague and I are enjoying our good fortuned table-topped luxury, when the train stops at a town certain for a famous public school. On get two gentleman who are around the late 50s, early 60s mark, well dressed and who ask to share our table.

Of course, we agree and make room for them. Within 20 seconds of sitting down, they've tried to take over the table. Not only physically, but vocally as well. My colleague and I can barely hear each other over their conversation. (Bit silly trying to take on two classically trained actors in a game of who can project their voice more, but anyway we resisted the temptation for the sake of the others in the carriage).

On the two occaisions that either of us wanted to go to the loo, the act of moving their sextagenerian arses was treated as though we'd asked them to eat razor-laden turds. And, of course the same when we come back from the loo as well. An utter refusal to acknowledge that we were there, and when we had to ask them to move, a tut.

Now, you might at this point be thinking that this really isn't the end of the world, Sugar-Tits. Grow a pair and deal with it, so you met a couple of slightly rude gents on the train.

Big deal.

Normally, I'd agree with you, but in this case the two gentleman had just come back from an old school reunion of some sort (they were discussing their old school and who had been doing what etc), and judging from their later conversations they also had senior jobs in the City.

It was, I thought, just interesting to see the difference between how four underprivileged kids and two wealthy, 'well brought up' men behaved towards other people.

This isn't, believe it or not, an attack on public school boys, since sugar-tits actually did go to a quite well known public school. It's a commentary on the fact that you get arseholes in every level of the social strata. Two privately educated 'gentlemen' had their lack of manners shown up by a bunch of underpriveleged hoodies from rough council estates.

Really made me feel warm inside, that I found some human decency in the place where I least expected it.
(sugar_tits, Fri 2 Apr 2010, 12:27, 4 replies)

My Brother was born in a Forces Hospital in Germany in the 80's
I like to think that because of my European upbringing I am pretty much a European myself. I try hard to speak French in France, Italian confused me, but I gave it a go and I can still tell my wife that I love her in about five languages, although I leave the Klingon to her (because they are freaks).

My Mother phoned up her parents after the birth of her son, born in a British Army Hospital while my Father was part of the great combined army protecting Britain from the Communist menace. Dad had sworn his allegiance to God and the Queen.

My Mothers Father, a thoroughly unpleasant man, screamed down the phone that my brother was a little "kraut" and would never be welcome in his home. A vile list of anti German obscenities followed and they were finished with the comment that once a nazi, always a nazi. My Brother was less than a week old!

The old cunt that is my Mothers Father spoke to my Mother once more that year, after she told him that she had been to Belson to see the mass graves. The old fucker said that the Holocaust was the greatest thing the Germans had done and Hitler had been right.

Err, hang on...is that pro nazi or anti nazi? Either way, the man is a massive shit stain. We don't talk
( Rev. Jayneflakes Buy my book, I need the cash for drugs and hookers, Fri 2 Apr 2010, 12:22, 1 reply)

stereotyping can be useful
last winter-when it was about -40 and snowing- whilst putting the bin out at about midnight so no one would see me, I managed to lock myself out of my flat wearing mens boxers,a bra and no fucking shoes..

Not a good look at night time in islington - for a girl anyway..

i was panicking, phone was inside, neighbours are all cunts and i actually have panic attacks even going outside with no make up on even on a good day. BUT NO, it had to be that the one time i take the bin out late at night so no-one see's me, my door decides to spazz out and slam shut on my fucking dignity.

i was getting truly fucked off.. i tried kicking the door, scratching my way through it, screaming at it to fucking open, crying.. basically doing all those irrational behaviours that come out when inanimate objects decide to be fucking cunts and ruin your day. I couldnt be so loud that some cunt next door would hear and come around and be all like ''oh dear are you locked out, come in mine and ill judge you?''.. i sat in my enclosed porch for about an hour and a half (thats probably exagerated through lack of phone clock) FREEZING MY FUCKING TITS OFF.. until i decided to stop crying, stand up and venture out past the drive to find a good samaritan who will let me use their phone and feel sorry for me.

i got to the gate.. and what did i see.. a blatant islington rude boy skank type, with his cap to the side and a limp in his walk...and i thought ''bingo.. clever nette.. he will do..''

'excuse me, EXCUSE ME..''' i got his attention.. ''basically im locked out out of my house and im wondering if you will help me..''

he looks at me a bit oddly - bra, mens pants, fucking ugly from crying - but walks across the road to my aid bless him.. ''will you kick in my door please to break the lock.''


took about 30 seconds. I actually commend the breed now. i got the lock changed within 5 hours though, just incase. who needs a phone.
(nettestar meeow, Fri 2 Apr 2010, 11:37, 5 replies)

Remember this from the playground
When needing to choose who was 'on' you would count people out with this little ditty

Eenie-meenie
Minie-mo,
Catch a nigger by the toe,
If he squeals
Let him go,
Eenie-meenie
Minie-mo

A long time ago..thankfully.
( Herb Alpert's Taxi Driver I have very beautiful lips, Fri 2 Apr 2010, 11:16, 16 replies)

How I've changed
Now, I'm not the sharpest tool in the box at the best of times, especially when it comes to race, it simply doesn't occur to me to view people with better natural tans then myself as being different beyond having said tans.

Growing up in an area of the UK that had virtually no other races then white and little or no religious indoctrination of any sort, moving to Yorkshire was something of a shock I can tell you. But after the initial surprise... Nothing, they were folks just like me.

I mean sure, I have put my foot in it with Dan (a friend who I mentioned previously on the Tramps QotW) once by offering to buy him a fry up - the whole haram/halal thing just didn't register. He knows the score and settled at toast and tea whilst reminding me of the above.

When the London bombings happened I sat down with another of my friends, Karlos who gave me the retards guide to non crazy Islam (Fundies occur in all religions). And after several hours of explanation I piped up with:

"So really, on a day to day level the only thing I really have to remember is that you folks are fussy eaters then?"

After some chuckling I got the affirmative. And I've never once offered Dan a fry up since that chat and carried on pretty much as before, although these days if I'm getting food for Muslim friends, I do pay special attention to the ingredients list, specifically looking for things like "Suitable for Vegetarians" labelling.
(the_leander, Fri 2 Apr 2010, 11:03, 4 replies)

SMOKING
It just drives me mental. I work with many, most of them I get on well with. I can't stand the smell, not just the smoke, I can smell them when they walk past me, and they throw butts everywhere. I work in an industry that requires various levels of inspection and check on work done. I spend a considerable portion of my working day trying to get inspections completed and work signed off in between their "smoke breaks", yet if non-smokers tack 5 minutes onto their lunch we cop a right bollocking for it. I have never met a smoker that always uses a bin or ashtray. I especially hate it when they flick them out the window of their car, this could have something to do with being behind them on a motorbike, or the fact that is oftem hot and dry where I live and bushfires are common. These are the same fuckwits that donate to bushfire appeals yet, start fires through their own filthy habit. I can't stand that everywhere I go, is littered with butts, the streets,especially around traffic lights, doorways of government buildings and pubs. You can pick a smoker driving, because the drive really gingerly and often all over the place, until they flick the butt out the window, and then they're off. I know the smokers out are going say "but I don't do that", bullshit, that's what they all say, you just can't see yourself (or smell yourself for that matter).
(M61A1 CUPID- STUNTS, Fri 2 Apr 2010, 10:41, 15 replies)

Nignogs
Back to the late 70's.
It was in the geography lesson that our teacher, Mr.(Lenny) Piper called young Indian student Zia a silly nignog.
Zia told his father what had happened and he was, understandably, rather upset by this racist outburst. An appointment to see the headmaster was made and Mr Piper was called in.
Mr Gibson, the headmaster, asked Mr. Piper if he'd called the lad a "Nignog"
"Probably", said Lenny P, "I've got a classroom full of them"
Much jaw drapping in Mr G.s office
"Not that your son usually is one, he's generally one of the brighter ones"
The penny suddenly dropped - good old Lenny P genuinely had no idea there was a racist side to his comment. The term nignog was, in Lennys younger days, simply a term for an idiot or fool.
He was an old fashioned teacher, smart suit, polished shoes, perfectly knotted tie and black cloak. I doubt he'd ever watched Love Thy Neighbour and I wouldn't imagine that his circle of friends would use racist language.
Zia's father listed to the headmasters explanation of the situation and could tell by Mr Pipers reaction to the accusation that he meant nothing by it.
That was it. Lenny, even though he couldn't see what the fuss was all about, apologised and everyone went away happy.

Can't imagine such a quick and amicable end to that nowadays.

Lenny could rarely remember names and refered to the girls as Jemima and the boys as willyboy. Willy boy!!!
(daveduke67, Fri 2 Apr 2010, 10:26, 5 replies)

Retribution, RN style
I heard this story years ago, God knows if it's true...

~~~~~~~ wavy lines transporting us back to the late 1940s ~~~~~~~

HMS Belfast after the end of the war was stationed out in the Far East, as part of the Royal Navy's Oriental presence. It was a horrible time for the crew - this still being the time of hammocks slung up below decks and no air-conditioning. (Temperatures below decks would regularly be over 100 degrees F in the tropical heat). So, when the ship pulled into Hong Kong for a resupply and some R & R, it was a welcome respite for the entire crew - a real opportunity to let off some steam.

The last night before sailing a small group of the officers were out in the city for a quiet drink and a meal, making the most of their last few hours of freedom before an early evening sailing the next day. They're on their first and last beer, taking it slowly as they realise this'll be the last one for a few months when they hear,

"Are you f***ing limeys? I hate f***ing limeys. Limeys are all fags."

There's an American gentleman standing at the bar who starts to pour out a torrent of abuse at them. They're doing their best to ignore it, but the Yank is having none of it and continues to hurl abuse at them. Then he approaches their table, sits down and proceeds to tell them how and why they were the scum of the earth. They politely tell him they aren't interested and could he leave them alone.

"Leave you alone? Hey, if it wasn't for us you'd be two down on world wars by now. You assholes can't even fight."

This, of course, to some officers who have been stationed aboard the Belfast for a good few years and have experienced the horrors of war in the Atlantic, the Russian convoys and the Far East. Suddenly, it had started to get very personal, and knowing that if they got caught in a brawl they'd be in a lot of trouble, one of them thought of a different approach to the problem.

"Well I bet we could drink your fat Yank arse under the table."

Reg rag to a bull. His face went crimson with rage at the suggestion that a Brit could beat him at anything. Problem was that the Navy officers didn't want to get drunk, it being the day before a sailing. So they started drinking water instead of spirits, and made sure that he became increasingly lubricated. Eventually, he passed out in a stupor incapable of speech or movement. You would have thought the Godawful hangover and the fact that he'd pissed himself would be revenge enough, but when someone has insulted the memory of your dead friends you'd probably be in a slightly less forgiving mood.

They took him to a tattoo parlour instead.

From here on in, I can only speculate as to his side of the story. The navy boys delivered him back to his hotel and headed back to the ship. Sober.

Although, I would have loved to have seen his face the next morning though as he stood in front of the mirror. With an enormous Union Jack permanently etched across his chest.
(sugar_tits, Fri 2 Apr 2010, 10:23, 1 reply)

stripey shirts with white collar and cuffs
Normally say to me "Citywanker".
You know the type, the braying morons at the bar ordering a Stollybollybully, also known as a vcr, or vodka champagne and redbull.

There may well be some perfectly lovely blokes out there only wearing the stripey/white combo because their aged mother or beloved wife bought it for them, but for me it's like a flashing neon light above their head that says

CUNT
( Sallyrsm, Fri 2 Apr 2010, 9:56, 3 replies)

My son went from his single-parent, council estate/comprehensive background to Oxford
and I must admit, I was worried that he'd meet with class prejudice and be bullied by the posh lot.

Didn't happen, though. Most people were friendly and he had a great time. When my mother asked him if he had problems with the snobs, he said 'Naaah, everyone's as common as me!'

Physics - the great leveller!

He's now off to CERN via a PhD in California. Couldn't really have done any better if his mum and dad had been millionaires.

Well done, Oxford. You proved me wrong.
(Juan Quar is clinging to her front teeth on, Fri 2 Apr 2010, 9:19, 11 replies)

I hate people who taunt disabled midgets....
..they are not big and they are not clever.

.....grabs coat
( Jeccius Steam Borderlands 2 junkie, Fri 2 Apr 2010, 9:16, 1 reply)

Art
after about 1918.

I don't resent art students, but logically I probably should.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Fri 2 Apr 2010, 7:52, 1 reply)

I fucking hate


intolerance

.
(schrodingers cat now you see me, or not, Fri 2 Apr 2010, 7:48, Reply)

Nimes
My girlfriend and I spent a glorious late summer in the beautiful city of Nimes. We wandered through Roman amphitheatre, visited the temple of Diane, scoffed olives and strong coffee and generally had the time of our lives.
We were sitting watching old fellas play boule and the world was a good place when a old french chap introduced himself. His English was a poor as my French but we still managed to have a lovely chat about his role in WWII, his sister camping in Kent (she thought it was beautiful) ,his life in Canada and so on when the chat suddenly turned darker. I struggled to understand what he was talking about when my girlfriend explained he was talking about Arabs. The whole conversation was directed through me, he barely acknowledged she was there even though her French was much better then mine. He didn't like that there was a strong Arab quarter in Nimes as they were 'dirty'. He could see that I was struggling with the direction of the conversation so he gently held my hand and proudly announced 'Spingers, je suis un racist'. I replied ' Reynard, je ne pas un racist' With this he politely doffed his hat and bid us au revoir.
It was a strange but very enjoyable encounter with a good old fashioned dirty racist bastard.
Word of advice to the racists, perhaps, if you were as polite as Reynard more people would join you on you pointlessly bitter journey through life you daft cunts.
( spingers, Fri 2 Apr 2010, 7:47, 1 reply)

Racist!

A while back I was reported at work for racism. Which surprised me a bit as one of my best mates at work was a wee Indian girl who I used to go on smoke breaks with (the girl who reported me was also Indian) and the last person I''d recommended for promotion was a devout Muslim.

It came about when a bunch of us were chatting about the HEAT (helpdesk software) administrator who''d just left.

"Well, we'll need to get another administrator" I said.

"I think I'll apply" tweeted stupid, vapid bitch Indian girl.

"Err - I don't think there''d be any point" I said "The HEAT administrator is a technical position. You need a fairly high degree of technical computer knowledge and, to be fair, you've got the technical ability of a chocolate biscuit"

Ten minutes later the HR harpies descended breathing fire and brimstone and demanding my immediate sacking.

Luckily, my boss stood up for me and my non-white mates rallied round and the charge was eventually dropped, but my card was marked. The HR Gorgons eventually got me but that's another story.

Racist. For saying someone had the technical ability of a biscuit....

Cheers
( Legless Mister Stabby - shanks for the memory, Fri 2 Apr 2010, 6:41, 8 replies)

Born Again Ex-Smokers
There are the ex-smokers who are nice and they don`t constantly prattle on about how healthy they are and how they might live to be one hundred. They might just very occasionally pass along comments such as "the air smells lovely today, do you smell that dog crap at twenty paces" or even "this apple is the nectar of the outside market" and "I can run 200 yards without passing out".
Them are OK in my book, the ones I cannot stand are the cigarette smashing, very short tempered, thousand yard stare of the person who`s body is now without nicotine. The one who will cough dramatically as they pass you by, the little old lady who pinches her nose as you climb aboard the bus, even the loud mouth at the pub who when you get up to nip outside in the freezing cold for that fix, declares "you`re gonna kill all those loved ones living with you very slowly before you croak" Cunts all of `em
(Sadarse works like Mist condensing mud flaps, Fri 2 Apr 2010, 5:14, 5 replies)

everybody is to a degree
to say you are not is bullshit

i don't like:
people who use cultural differences to justify doing fuck all at work - you lazy cunts!
(wallynothere rnot without protection, Fri 2 Apr 2010, 3:49, Reply)

"I`m free of all prejudices. I hate everyone equally."

W.C. Fields
(Jimmy Savlon, Fri 2 Apr 2010, 3:22, 1 reply)

Oh dear...
I'm a vegetarian. There, I've said it.

However, I like to think I'm a 'good' vegetarian. I don't eat fish, gelatine or anything like that, so I'm not a hypocrite - and more importantly, I'm not preachy about it. Most people don't even know I'm vegetarian until I have to tell them (usually if they're offering me meat). One of my best friends is a chef, and he only found out I was veggie a couple of months ago (I've been veggie for ten years). I genuinely couldn't give less of a fuck what other people are eating, I'm happy to buy Mr. Anodyne meat, and if I could cook for shit, I'd cook it for him. I just don't want to eat it myself. I could be the only vegetarian on the planet, and it wouldn't bother me. However, what does bother me, is when people start having a go at me for it. You know the kind - "We're not SUPPOSED to be vegetarian, it's not NATURAL." Well, it's not natural to sit on your arse all day eating pies and drinking beer, but it's not stopping you is it? People try using all kinds of arguments in their misguided attempts to get me to see the light and stop my silly ways, but their fatal error is forgetting that I don't give a shit. It's not like I'm wandering around chewing carrot sticks either, pretty much all I eat is based on potatoes, bread or pasta. I hardly ever eat vegetables, so it's not like I'm a tofu munching fart monster either. I would just feel too guilty to eat animal flesh, but that's a personal choice, and I don't want to impinge it upon anyone, and I wish people would stop believing that I do. If I go for a meal at a friend's house, I'm perfectly happy to just eat the veg they're making and skip the meat. I don't want them to make me anything special.

So stop saying that I do. You twats.
(BelladonnaAnodyne Melissa's gonna wet herself, I swear..., Fri 2 Apr 2010, 3:20, 12 replies)

Gay.
Click "I like this" if you too are getting tired of the gaming population using the word 'gay' as a stand-in for 'stupid.' As in, 'that last fight was gay, I died three times', or 'this game is so gay, my phat lewtz never drops!!!1!'
ugh.
and btw it's not cool to call someone a faggot because you disagree with his/her playing style and/or general in-game chat.
stoppit.
(fai is rocking khaz modan server as of, Fri 2 Apr 2010, 2:50, 12 replies)

crystals
i've yet to meet someone named 'crystal' (or any variation on the spelling thereof) that wasn't a complete airhead with an IQ lower than that of SpongeBob Squarepants.
(fai is rocking khaz modan server as of, Fri 2 Apr 2010, 2:45, 7 replies)

The german class
One school, two german teachers both with a passion for German. Two classes. Both teachers had the same class for three years our class being shit and our teacher as a result hating most of us.

In the fourth year our classes got changed into higher and lower our ex-teacher being given the higher class and most of the other teachers pupils. This lasted two weeks before the good teacher won her class back plus the only decent pupils from our original class.

Cue class starting and teacher asking people to read out their homework. After several wrong answers she started to cry and then screamed "I didn't want to be stuck with you retards!!!!!!!". We got a new teacher the next week who let us meet a real german and was cool.
( dazbrilliantwhites has been meaning to change this..., Fri 2 Apr 2010, 2:36, 4 replies)

Bob Dylan Fans
Not Bob Dylan, not people who like Bob Dylan, oh no... Fucking Bob Dylan fans! There's a world of difference. I like some of the music of Bob Dylan, despite a brief period a few years ago of having him rammed down my fucking throat. Anyway, nothing makes me want to punch a dog more than the inevitable scenario that always pans out whenever I mention him...

Bob Dylan fan- "Oh, so you like Dylan?"
Me- "Yeah, only really started listening a few years ago but yeah"
B.D.F- "What's your favourite song"?
Me- "Tangled Up in Blue"
B.D.F- (& this is where I start to hate them) "Oh, you like his main-stream stuff"?
Me- "Why, what's yours"?
B.D.F- "Oh, you probably won't have heard of it, it was the B-Side on a rare Japanes import from 1968 & they only made 94 copies & they where all destroyed in a fire in a shoe shop in Tonypandy 7 years before it was actually released. It was during an experimental stage where he only ate yams & did a face a bit like Nick Berry from Heart-Beat when-ever he went near a Spanish bus."

I fucking hate the fact that they believe themselves to be musically superior because they spent time pain-stakingly researching an artist who your supposed to like anyway. They'd be more adventurous if they hated the fucker! Most don't actually like him, they just feed off the pretentiousness that comes with being a boring cunt-stain. If there so bad, why did they become main-stream? BECAUSE THEY WHERE THE MOST FUCKING POPULAR!!! They where his best songs. Eat my piss you wankers!
(Dr Fishfinger Want's to see a fat man give a tit wank, Fri 2 Apr 2010, 0:48, 7 replies)

Of course I'm prejudiced.
I just try not to be a dick about it.
What I will say is this: My discomfort around certain people is directly proportional to how unpleasant my previous encounters with that group have been.
(Big D, Fri 2 Apr 2010, 0:16, Reply)

I'll always remember..
Sitting in a 'humanities' lesson learning about prejudices and our teacher flatly asks "Does anyone here have any prejudices?".

(Keep in mind we must've been about 15 at the time)

A girl, from a well off family, very calmly raises her hand and says in the most dead serious way "I don't like poor people".

I don't think I've ever been in a room to witness such an intense awkward pause. Nothing more was said, the teacher just moved on.
(kellysprinkles dying for a pee since, Thu 1 Apr 2010, 23:49, 3 replies)

I am spectacularly prejudiced
against StapMyVitals. To all intents and purposes, he might as well be a gay, black, crippled gypsy Jew with ginger hair and AIDS, combining every possible source of bias and bigotry in one handy (yet malformed and foul-smelling) package.

But why, I hear you gurgle? Why are you so unfathomably, irreversibly aligned against this poor individual, who has done nothing wrong except possibly epitomise the concepts contained in 4chan? Why, that would be a foolish question! To so ask is to entirely miss the point of 'prejudice'! I need not an identifiable motive, I have no need to support my feelings with anything so crass as 'a reason'. It's prejudice! I, quite simply, hate him with every fibre of my being. His existence is an affront to me by dint of his simply walking on this planet.

Of course, life is rarely so simple as to allow us to exercise our unreasoning hatred without interruption. Fortunately, I can report that I have been given many real grounds to despise him, some of them even standing up to reasoned debate (although there are of course many others that I can only hold if I do not expose them to the light of examination; the kind of belief that is always dear to the true bigot). In the end, though, ladies and (possibly) gentlemen, you will just have to accept that my brother is an appalling bastard and an abomination of the first order.
(Falstaff's Spiritual Successor, Thu 1 Apr 2010, 23:21, 2 replies)