back in the day, my dad was a banker. he worked at the head office in london for a few years, which had 2 squash courts in the vaults, and most mornings would play a game with a colleague
one morning he was challenged to a game by his boss, a little man who was as mild as milk with a posh eton accent that could cut glass.

so dad was rather surprised when this guy turned into a roaring, swearing tiger on the court. after a tense game, it was getting very close. dad had to keep a straight face as his boss got so incensed that he started pacing up and down the T, bouncing his brand new racquet off his forehead, and shouting, "IT IS NOT THE RACQUET'S FAULT, MALCOLM. IT IS NOT THE RACQUET'S FAULT."

which did the poor racquet no good at all 5 minutes later, when my dad beat him. with a howl of rage, malcolm smashed it against the wall and turned it into little matchsticks...
( rachelswipe with a fork, Thu 3 Oct 2013, 11:57, 3 replies)

Your all gay

( BraynDedd Natasha Kaplinsky's labia majora, Thu 3 Oct 2013, 11:30, 8 replies)

No.
I'm Spartacus.
(ParaSitius is an Optimistic Pessimist, Thu 3 Oct 2013, 11:24, 1 reply)

No, I want to be the centre of attention.
( drimble he'd been white, he'd been black, Thu 3 Oct 2013, 11:13, 2 replies)

Something something dried flowers in a bowl.

(Me, I'm not... in any way intoxicated, Thu 3 Oct 2013, 10:35, Reply)

www.youtube.com/watch?v=ntt3wy-L8Ok
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Thu 3 Oct 2013, 9:09, Reply)

There's a load of trolls from Pommie Land (and elsewhere)
who clearly sit there at their computers constantly thinking about me, commenting about me here (and on other boards no less) and posting almost continuously about - me.

When I'm not here.

I'd love to say this was flattering. But this is b3ta.

Take a moment to ponder. Over the last 12-18 hrs (let alone the last week) do all the posters that hate and revile me so much and constantly post about it, imagine that prior to writing this post I've given any of you so much as a moment's thought?
(s0ckpuppet logging out to reply to you if you're not careful, Thu 3 Oct 2013, 7:28, 25 replies)

Thursday, is it?
I know a guy who looks a bit Like Mark Anthony from HBO's Rome. Purefoy-y.

My dog went outside. Paw forray.

Adolf Hitler was stripped of his wealth prior to his death. Poor Fuhrer.

I made a hole. Perforate.

My Canadian acquaintance was asked how many beers he would like for himself and three friends. "Pour four, eh?"

I found an igneous rock with large crystals in a fine-grained matrix. Porphyry.

As you were.
( Happy Phantom has been to Hastings, Brighton, and Eastbourne too, Thu 3 Oct 2013, 0:30, 1 reply)

I once suggested to Pooflake that he wasn't putting the effort into his lies any more.
That was my first mistake.
( Monty Boyce, My cheese game is strong, Wed 2 Oct 2013, 21:00, 4 replies)

A work colleague went out with a nutter who used to scream and slap him every time they disagreed.
Why did he stay with her? I'm guessing that the make-up sex was pretty good.

He never hit her back, until they went on holiday at the other end of the country when they both got bladdered and she provoked him for about an hour until he snapped and slapped her back.

She immediately called the police and had him arrested. While he was in custody she drove home, leaving him to fare-dodge his way back. Took him about 14 hours.

He was on bail for a while, on condition that he couldn't contact her, although she constantly pestered him by phone and on Facebook. She even sent her mates round with messages. He was terrified of being arrested again.

When the case came up he had to go back to the resort for sentencing, having immediately admitted slapping her. He had amassed a huge pile of character references from various respectable people to present in court and was of previous good character so he was given a conditional discharge and walked free.

He still has a criminal record though, which will come up on a CRB check, and it might stop him getting a decent job in future. All because he wouldn't walk away from a nutter.
(Juan Quar is clinging to her front teeth on, Wed 2 Oct 2013, 18:03, 5 replies)

I saw
a proper brawl that broke out at the weekend at a racecourse.

Everyone had had a nice day out, a few drinks, a few flutters, and then as people are starting to file out after the last race, there's suddenly a bit of shouting and some women shrieking, and I turn around to see two middle aged blokes in suits squaring up.

They then plough into each other and the brawl ends up on the floor. Their mates are running in to pull them apart/get stuck in depending on the individual, and it all looks like it's going to go nuclear.

Luckily, enough of them were in a conciliatory mood that withing a few seconds it was all under control, security were over, and both protagonists were being manhandled out towards the gates by their mates.

And what had caused this violent outburst? As one of them was being dragged away, he shouted 'you bumped into me in the toilet, and then you looked at me funny out here you fucking cunt!'.

I repeat: this was a middle aged man, not a fucking 9 year old.
(SnowyTheWereRabbit the Leporid from Hell, Wed 2 Oct 2013, 17:03, 2 replies)

What?
I have just returned from my annual trip to the library and I must say it has gone downhill.

I walked in and there was poor old Mrs Peacock lying on the floor, her skull bludgeoned by a piece of lead piping. Then again, that old cow has died more times than John Bishop before an audience of anything other than fucking idiots.

But to more weighty matters. Very weighty matters indeed, this S0ckpuppet and Liemallow affair, for affair it is.

The truth is, I like nothing better than giving our Australian cousins a damned good licking. This summer I’ve been in raptures. In the main this has been due to the sound of leather on Willow. Lovely girl, Willow, though her charges have become quite extortionate in these recessionary times so I’ve recently made do with baiting this board’s most famous member.

Of course I have form for member baiting. I remember the stuffed shirts escorting me from the public gallery after I told the member for Southwalk Central to “fuck off” during the debate for the legalisation of Greek practices.

Where was I…

Ah! That’s right, these blighters.

Polite discourse is what sets us apart from the animals, that and not taking a shit wherever we feel like it, though anyone who has been to Cardiff may disagree.

All the effing and jeffing aimed at certain members of our club has got out of hand. In my day if you wanted to show a man he was in error you gave him a damn good scrugging and when it was all over you shook him firmly by the hand, shared a cheroot and never spoke of it again.

We should return to these simpler times immediately!
(Brigadier an old boot sitting on a man's face - forever, Wed 2 Oct 2013, 15:09, 13 replies)

I once saw two couples walking up the main street of my town
the couple at the front looked uncomfortable as the couple they were with were arguing loudly. As I approached I saw the man grab his partner and slam her up against a shop window. I asked the other couple "Is she ok?" before they got a chance to answer I heard "WHY DON'T YOU MIND YOU OWN FUCKING BUSINESS!?" before turning round to get punched full on in the face.......by the woman who was getting slammed against the glass.

I gave up after that.
( Peej, Wed 2 Oct 2013, 14:07, 8 replies)

The Great British Bake-Off isn't very good.

( Amorous Badger NAKED BEA ARTHUR PHOTOS 4U, Wed 2 Oct 2013, 14:03, 17 replies)

You never forget the first time

I once had a girlfriend, a girl who has appeared in these annals under the monicker "Batshit Mentalist" on many occasions. Naturally, I didn't think she was a stone-bonker when I first started seeing her; in fact she was perfection personified: warm, kind, articulate, witty, and shagged like a steam train on steroids. I really thought I had it made.

I remember very clearly the first time the other side of her made an appearance. I was standing stunned as she screamed and ranted, veins bulging in her forehead and rabid spittle collecting in the corners of her mouth. Eventually, having redistributed the furniture around the room, and run out of objects and invective to hurl at me, she stormed out and disappeared. I was left, open mouthed, as was her best friend who happened to be there at the time.

My crime, you ask? What heinous misdemeanour had led to this near-meltdown? Had I violated the still-warm corpse of her mother? Boiled the family rabbit and served it in a bernaise sauce? Sold her firstborn on the internet?

No. Apparently, I'd cut the vegetables at the wrong angle.

.
(moon monkey is busy making memories worth repressing, Wed 2 Oct 2013, 13:25, 10 replies)

Just noticed it's my candle day..
7 years of you cunts, 7 years.

Right, who's for a nonce-punch?
( Infidel , shit and wrong, Wed 2 Oct 2013, 10:22, 23 replies)

This guy sounds pretty angry...
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yj2oXMdZ4sk
( skullfunkerry In case of implosion do not look into implosion, Tue 1 Oct 2013, 21:02, 1 reply)

I've just been listening to some metal on Youtube.
They all sound bloody furious.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Tue 1 Oct 2013, 16:45, 4 replies)

Kerby
I grew up on a cul-de-sac, approximately forty houses of varying ages and style and about fifteen other children around my age. The parents of other children were happy for us to play on the street, and cars seldom disturbed our frolicking.

Boys, of course, all shared the common obsession of football and football related games. Most of us had a ball that had become scuffed by the cheap gravel stuck into tar combination that the council decided to coat the lesser used roads with, which left the plastic panels hanging off, gouged and likely to slice through any flesh that it came in contact with, or damage the paintwork of any car that it happened to hit at pace.

One summer afternoon, when I was eleven, we decided to play Kerby. For those of you unfamiliar with the game, I can't remember the precise rules, so I apologise, but the ultimate aim was to kick the ball from the opposite pavement so that it ricocheted back off of the kerb, allowing you to catch it. I think a points based system was used to keep track of who was winning or losing.

Anyway, enough background.

On one fateful day, I kept missing and consequently losing. This made me frustrated and inevitably my frustration led to anger, anger led to hate, and hate led to the dark side. I kicked the ball as hard as I could. The ball flew into the edge of the pavement, hit the sweet spot that in turn caused it to ricochet directly into my face, leaving me with a slightly wonky bloody nose and a fairly impressive cut under my eye.

In retrospect, it was a fucking stupid game.
( Muns, Tue 1 Oct 2013, 16:43, 2 replies)

If a German horse needs its stable mucking out
Would that be a...



... Pooer für hay?
(katie hopkins telling it where its at, Tue 1 Oct 2013, 16:33, 1 reply)

I once put a load of rabbit skin in a blender.
Needless to say it was a fur purée.
( Dr Preference AjcuiVd289, Tue 1 Oct 2013, 16:11, 2 replies)

Am I Wrong?
I'm often asked to run interviews for various positions. Recently, a guy arrived for a front-of-house role, dressed rather bizarrely in a blazer and sporting a black polo-neck jumper underneath.

Not one to judge people by their sartorial choices, I continued with the interview. By the time I'd asked all the pertinent questions and had a glance over his references, I was satisfied he'd be suitable for the role. I informed him of this and as I stood up to shake his proffered hand, I noticed the beginnings of a huge tattoo winding its way up his wrist.

He clocked me looking and asked if the organisation had a problem with tattoos. Not knowing the full answer to this question, I replied half-jokingly, 'Only if they're not the repulsive type that creep up your neck!'

He fell back to his seat and rolled down the neck of his jumper. Vile. He did have one of those disgusting neck-tatts - an awful, amateur looking, faux-Maori design that ended just below his left ear. Then, to add insult to injury, he spun round and showed me the other side of his neck - some indecipherable script running from the base of his ear to god knows where else.

'Is this gonna be a problem?' He asked.

Lying through my teeth, I simply answered that it wasn't an issue for me, but customers may well be put off, and that the corporate dress-code would not allow him to ponce around in a polo-neck.

Well that was obviously last straw for this freak. The red mist descended and he started to lose his rag.

'It's just a fucking tatt mate!' he yelled, 'Everyone's got them now - this is fucking discrimination. I'll fucking sue you!'

Needless to say I had the last laugh, as I rejected his application and rescinded the job offer. He's probably sitting in the mud at a festival or working in Brighton these days.
( Albert Marshmallow is a completely irredeemable cunt, Tue 1 Oct 2013, 15:38, 21 replies)

i've seen many a meltdown
from the crazy bitch who slashed her boyfriend's tyres because he forgot to ask for vinegar on her chips, to the pissed-up bloke who started a fight with an entire club full of people because one of them looked at him funny, but the one i remember best is umbrella man. he was the bloke who went into full rage mode when he couldn't control his umbrella. he swore at it, smacked it onto the ground, pleaded with it, the lot. finally he got it open and the wind immediately blew the damn thing inside out. the anguished shriek/wail was wonderful, but not as wonderful as when he decided to stamp on the umbrella and got his foot jammed in it. i watched from my living room window, almost crying with laughter. i'm so, so glad he never saw me!
( Smash Monkey lowering the tone of the whole internet, Tue 1 Oct 2013, 15:14, 3 replies)

You should have SEEN the fuss that happened when I shared a list..
...of things that I thought were funny.

And on a website dedicated to piss-taking and poor-taste humour as well.
( Amorous Badger NAKED BEA ARTHUR PHOTOS 4U, Tue 1 Oct 2013, 14:38, 49 replies)

About a year ago my aunt was heavily pregnant.
Due to my mother being born many years earlier my aunt is actually younger than me, and is a very attractive lady. She went through boyfriends like there's no tomorrow, and yet whenever she was single I always tried to suppress my feelings for her as I knew it'd just be wrong.

One evening I was visiting her in her fifth floor apartment when she seemed in some discomfort. "The baby's kicking", groaned my aunt. She was wearing a sexy short top that showed the massive bulge of her belly, and I could swear I saw movement. Very gently, I put my hand on the area to feel it.

Just then her most recent partner (DS Robbins) came storming into the room, out of breath and heart hammering after climbing nine flights of stairs, sat down opposite and demanded to know what the hell I thought I was doing. He's never got on with me since he caught me diddling the station's sniffer dog. The sneering Robbins made some comment about my previous kiddie-fiddling convictions, and inferred that I couldn't even wait for my cousin to be born before going to work on her. As a totally reformed character I naturally saw red immediately, and hauled him to his feet. My manly 6'7 physique and rippling, ex-SAS musculature meant that the scrawny 5'4 copper's feet were off the ground.

"YOU CAN CALL ME DOG-FINGERER", I bellowed into his terrified, upturned face, "YOU CAN CALL ME KID-FINGERER, BUT NEVER, EVER, CALL ME FOETUS FINGERER!!!"

With that, I hurled him bodily through the penthouse's plate glass window, and he fell screaming to his death, body smashed apart across the roof of his Honda parked on the street twenty floors down.

It all turned out alright though because my aunt was splitting up with him anyway and had caught the whole episode on her iPhone 7 and the judge let me off because ex-nonces have to stick together, right?
( drimble he'd been white, he'd been black, Tue 1 Oct 2013, 14:14, 1 reply)

This is my favoritest qotw ever.
I'm considering posting an actual story instead of complaining about reposts, it's that good.

D'accord.
( Infidel , shit and wrong, Tue 1 Oct 2013, 13:00, 6 replies)

NICK CLEGG

(McChinaman banned, Tue 1 Oct 2013, 12:34, 1 reply)

Answerphone apoplexy
A mate of mine once played me a voicemail he'd received. I can't remember it exactly, but it was along the lines of "Andy you fucker I'm going to kill you I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU'D DO THAT TO ME YOU BASTARD I'M GOING TO MAKE YOU PAY YOU'D BETTER WATCH YOUR BACK I FUCKING KNOW WHERE YOU LIVE YOU WANKER YOU'RE GOING TO WISH YOU WERE NEVER BORN I'M GOING TO...oh sorry, I've just realised this is the wrong number, sorry".

My mate's name is Andrew, but no-one calls him Andy... and to this day we don't know if it was a mate winding him up or a genuine mistake.
( skullfunkerry In case of implosion do not look into implosion, Tue 1 Oct 2013, 12:13, 3 replies)

Is clinical depression rife in prisons?
If so, it should be taken to the European Court Of Human Rights - that's not on.

If not - why not? Prisons are like a holiday camp these days.

Either way, I'm incandescent with fury.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Tue 1 Oct 2013, 12:06, 2 replies)