I once approached approached the check in desk at Christchurch airport with a ticket to Sydney one wednesday evening....
Only it turns out I'd been a bit of a twat and turned up an entire day late as I had a ticket for a flight that did in fact leave on the Tuesday.

Despite having an incompetent fool in front of her, the lady went out of her way to put me on the next flight at no extra charge and even went as far as to say that 'It happens all the time' which I seriously doubt.

Being nice to nice people is easy. Being nice to complete idiots like me is something special.
(FartThroughAWalkieTalkie wished you were dead in ditch on, Thu 9 Feb 2012, 17:58, 6 replies)

In the mid 1970s
I lived with my folks in a cottage that stood on it's own about a mile from the nearest village, on what was then the main road between South Wales and the Midlands. (Now bypassed by the A449.)

One summer morning, in the school hols, I found a wallet at the bottom of our drive, stuffed full of crisp pound notes, for such things still existed. There was about £50 in there, a tidy sum back then, and a fortune to an eight-year-old Shinyshinyscalp.

What was also in there was a receipt. Being a Good Little Boy, I decided I had to find out who the owner of the lost wallet was, and return it, along with his cash (it was clearly a man's wallet; such gender stereotyping as was typical of 1975-6). This was no mean task back then. No internet, no mobiles, etc. Assisted by my Dad, I rang the shop that issued the receipt and asked them if they remembered the transaction on such & such date and, if so, who it was with.

Did they have any contact details? Luckily it was a tailor's who had done some alterations, so they had a name and number, which I rang and said "hello sir I've found your wallet it's got money and tickets and things in it so if you give me your name and address I will send it back to you please thank you". My mum even helped me to get a postal order to the value so we could safely post it all.

In reply I got a nice letter back and a postal order for £5. (10%)

As a postscript, for my 16th birthday in 1983 I went shopping in Bath with my folks, with my own £50 birthday money (worth much less by then, these being the days of 10%+ inflation). I too lost it, but luckily I'd put a card in (made with the sweat of my own brow and the materials and photocopier my dad let me use at his small business) with my contact details.

A month later I got it posted back to me with a note saying that the guy sending it had kept £20 (40%) "for my trouble". My conclusion was that the inhabitants of Bath were 35% more cuntish than me.
( shinyshinyscalp less a man, more a way of life, Thu 9 Feb 2012, 17:57, 5 replies)

Crime School
My friend's Dad worked at the local Young Offenders' Institution teaching woodwork to the scrotes, and one evening he was asked if he could help the visiting Barber get into his car, as he had accidentally locked his keys in the boot. Now my friend's Dad is no expert on car security, but he's got a room full of them right there.
So he asks his class if there's anyone who can possibly help them get into the car. It's not like it's a Screw's car, surely someone will do the right thing and use their nefarious knowledge to help out an ordinary bloke who's having a bad day?

No problem, the current Prince of TWOC is in residence and he steps up to the plate. Rules are bent and a party of Prison Officers, auxilliary staff and tutors accompany the scrote volunteer to the car park. He's in his element, centre of attention.

"Hmmm, brand new Audi, nice. Oh sweet,it's got all the toys on it too, top motor you got there Boss, very stealable, you wanna look after it. You've really dropped a bollock, shutting your key inside haven't you?"

The owner of the car shuffles uncomfortably and looks sheepish, "I've only had it a day, I didn't realise it would self-lock..."

With bated breath, they watch the youth stalk round the car, rubbing his chin as he pondered the security features.
"Well?" someone ventured "Can you get in to it?"
The Prince of TWOC turns to them, grins and says "Of course I fucking can!", before quick as lightning grabbing a loose coping stone from the kerb and heaving it through the driver's window.

As he was frogmarched off, he was heard to squeal "What's the problem? That's always how I get into them."
(Rsoles, Thu 9 Feb 2012, 17:43, 4 replies)

Vanishing Cash
A couple of years ago I had gone on a girls holiday to Turkey, the day before I was due to come home I had asked my parents if they could get me some basics (milk, bread etc) for me so I had something to eat and drink as my flight was getting in stupidly early and I didn't fancy schlepping around Morrisons on cronic jet lag.

Plane landed at 2:30am, called parents to let them know I had made it home and they let me know they had forgotten to get my things. Fucksocks - but such is life.

Got home and died in bed for a few hours, setting my alarm for 8 so I could hopefully get to Morrisons before anyone else. So at the alloted time I ventured out, looking and feeling like a bag of shite.

Still half asleep I realised, once I got to Morrisons, that they don't generally accept Lira for stuff, so went to the cash point and withdrew £150. Enough for food now and beer later I reasoned as I stuffed said cash in my jacked pocket.

1 basket of crap later I am at the checkout, I put hand in pocket to take out the cash... It's not there. In a somewhat mild panic I frisk my self and look around my immediate area. Nothing. Nada. Mega Fucksocks.

In a state of confusion I grab the first employee I see and gabble out my tale, begging him for help - I had no more money on my card, and needed the food or I'd starve and I had just come back off holiday.

So he helped me retrace my steps, saying he highly doubted anyone coming across a wedge of cash would simply hand it over. More likely I could kiss it goodbye. A full asile-by-asile search yeilded less than nothing and I was really worried now, so my helper suggested asking at customer services whilst he went and got the manager.

I asked customer service guy if anyone had handed in any money, and to my ever lasting surprise he said they had. I think I actually wooped at this point. My joy was cut short by the following conversation, however:
Me: Oh fantastic, thank you soooo much!
CSG: No problem, just tell me how much money you lost.
Me: £150
CSG: And what notes were those?
Me: Huh?
CSG: I can't give the money to you unless you can tell me what notes makes up the £150 you lost.
Me: But I got it out of the ATM outside your store!
CSG: Sorry, but that's the rules
Me: Well, then it must be 7 £20's and a £10
CSG: Sorry that's not right. It was 5 £20's and 5 £10's

I just stared at this fucker, and wonder if I have wondered onto a game show rather than a food store. He was either the best bluffer known to man or an utter cunt, and I know which I was thinking at this point.

Me:But, but it's £150, I lost it in the store. Someone has handed it in, what are the odds I would randomly ask you for that sum of money?
CSG: Sorry, rules are rules.

The floor manager had come over at this time, and asked what was going on. I tell him what has just been told to me, and blessedly the manager tells our customer service guy the following:

"You had £150 handed in, this yonng lady has lost £150. Stop being a dick and give her the money."

Living in Birmingham, I don't expect anything from anyone and this wonderful act of kindness which allowed me to eat and get happily pissed with my mates later than evening.

The person who had handed in the money hadn't left any details, which is a shame because a big bottle of decent wine and a thank-you card would have been forthcoming.
(ChickenChaser chases chickens, Thu 9 Feb 2012, 17:30, 5 replies)

Other t'weekend
I was taking the Tube strain and happenstanced upon a woman beladen with baggings of shopped goods in large quantities, sighing ejectedly with the weight. Quickly my duty as a gentleman became clear: I rushed from my seat, cast aside the paisley folds of her trappings and swept the chimney of her womanhood with my broom of delight. Scarcely had the radiant slattern had time to thank me with her gratitude when I had already declared "There you're going, love: you can use the pregnant seats now."

Of course this was all very embarrassing when she turned out to be a prelubed gentleman in a dress.
( .Yeti. El amor en los tiempos del cólera, Thu 9 Feb 2012, 17:24, 1 reply)

Unexpected civility
I was in a new city, and on my first morning there just wandering about, getting a feel for the place. I took a turn at random, and suddenly found that the bright lights had disappeared into the distance, and I appeared to have entered a Bad Neighbourhood.

Up ahead I saw a woman slouching in a doorway. At that moment, a car screeched to a halt in front of her, and a guy jumped out and started shouting at her. She was dressed like a crack whore, and he could have stepped out of a low-budget rap video.

I was pretty close when he appeared, and rather than turn and go back - which I thought might seem to be an inflammatory insult - I decided to simply plough on, as if I knew my way around. This would mean I'd have to walk between them, so I steeled myself for any possible trouble.

As I reached them, they stopped shouting, stepped back to make room, and waited for me to pass. The guy even smiled and made a friendly comment ("You have a nice day, now" or somesuch Americanism) as I passed.

Nice city. Even the street trash were friendly.
(moon monkey is busy making memories worth repressing, Thu 9 Feb 2012, 17:21, Reply)

Half a dozen posts below reminded me of this...
A really awful looking homeless person once asked me for some change, but I just pointed and laughed and walked off. Later I felt bad, so I bought a soylent green burger and gave it to him. He read the packet and said "No thanks mate, I don't eat people."

Apparently beggars can be choosers!

I walked away with the blood curdling sounds of the abattoir ringing in my ears. Best mp3 I ever downloaded.
(leviticus no longer likes the cut of your gib on, Thu 9 Feb 2012, 17:20, Reply)

The other night it was really cold.
On my way from the office to the car park there was a homeless guy sitting in a doorway.

He looked so pitiful in his tattered blanket with his hand outstretched. Obviously addicted to massive drugs and aching for some relief from his continuum of pain and loneliness, he asked "Spare a quid please mate?"

I decided that I could do so much better for him than contribute to his next hit of filthy street skag. I kicked and punched his face into a bloody pulp so if could spend a warm medicated night in hospital.
(Greencloud Wanted to go fishing on, Thu 9 Feb 2012, 17:17, 2 replies)

Earlier today I needed a small piece of aluminium to turn up a bung for something so stopped off in the local stockholders and asked for some the size I needed. It was such a small amount I expected to get gouged on the price but the bloke behind the counter said I could have it for nothing as it was such a small amount. It made my day.
(DrBob, Thu 9 Feb 2012, 17:07, Reply)

When all this were fields…

Half a dozen friends and I once embarked on a lad’s trip to Blackpool. From what I remember we had a pretty decent time overall. However, it was somewhat 'marred' by the following incident.

We bumbled enthusiastically into the town, as you would, and immediately threw ourselves nose-first into the usual Blackpool fayre – strip clubs, cheap bars, arcades and chip shops etc; for some reason we became increasingly determined to visit every shitty establishment on the seafront that had anything remotely stimulating to offer us.

At every place we visited, we were divulging in the standard rounds and we finally stumbled across some shit-hole lovely place…(all I can remember about was that it had and ‘L’ shaped pool table - what's that all about?). Anyhoo, at this one place in particular one of our group, whom I shall name ‘Vlad’, (for 'twas his nickname), announced that it was his round…

He checked his pockets…then checked again…and again. Oh spacksticks...

Gone. He now had the sum of Fuck-diddly-all.

Upon realising that he had his whole weekend fund (over £300 – this was a LONG time ago - I understand that nowadays £300 would hardly spring for a cab) in his wallet…that was now potentially spunked forever he declared ‘Oh dear’, only he announced it in a fashion that was a sort of 'Oh dear', just times-about-a-million…with entirely more violence and relevant related swearwords.

We all looked at each other. The stupid cunt had gone and lost his wallet – or been pickpocketed. Either way he was a colossal bell-end, yet we were all admirably insistent that we were not going to let this calamity ruin our weekend. Thusly, we started to discuss finance arrangements.

The ideas was: we would all lend him £50, he would suffer the ridicule of us all for the whole weekend and try to pay us back when he could. However, Vlad was not having any of it. “I’m going to re-trace my steps” he announced. We were all of course understandably enthusiastic in our encouragement…“Don’t be such a fucking spazmo, you’ve lost it – get over it!” was the collective diatribe from our group. However, Vlad was determined, and he insisted that we all go back to every bar / arcade that we had previously visited that day, and make enquiries to every landlord and / or ‘lost property’ department, should they have one.

Any success from this, as far as long shots go, was pretty much up there with winning the lottery on the very same day you get struck by lightning, so we were quite phenomenally reluctant. But eventually, we reflected that retracing our steps via various drinking establishments did carry a certain appeal to us, so we decided to indulge him.

The hours ticked by, and we trudged back through every bar, arcade and questionable establishment that we had previously vacated…getting evermore shitfaced, and questioning every person of authority that we could find…who each tended to strike the pose of ‘pausing' somewhat - before heartily laughing us out of the place and informing us that we had two hopes, and one of those was 'Bob'. We were properly screwed.

As we sat despondently in yet another bar, we were all about to give up and call it a day, when Vlad piped up after having another search of his piss-tarded memory.

“I think I remember where I left it!” he enthuses before continuing: “I left it on top of one of the fruit machines in ‘such-and-such’ arcade...let's Go!” he proceeded to proudly declare in a ‘rounding up of the troops’ manner.

Upon hearing this information – we became even more despondent. “If you did leave it there – then it’s definitely gone” I said to him, before cursing myself for ever inviting the absent-minded knob-itch there in the first place.

“Come on…Let’s go there now…woo!” he exclaimed – and his ever-hopeful exterior inspired us just enough to give us a tiny glimmer that this tragedy may indeed possibly have a happy ending.

“Oh, alright then, but this is the last fucking place we’re checking” I said, before one of my other friends gave him a life-affirming smack round the ear.

A few minutes later we were in the aforementioned arcade, and they just so happened to have a steward available, a scruffy looking fucker in a tiny cubicle in the corner who must have over time adopted such a fierce habit of telling little twats to ‘fuck off’ that it was probably worth his while to just have a T-shirt printed instead.

We approached him tentatively: “Whaddaya want?” he spat at us, positively bursting with top-notch customer service attitude.

Vlad stepped forward bravely: “Erm, sorry to bother you…I was wondering, did anyone hand a…erm…’wallet’ in today?”

The bloke sneered derisively, before squinting his eyes so he could glare at us all inquisitively...probably checking to see if this was some sort of scam.

“I might have…” he cryptically answered.

“Well then, I think it's mine, can I have it back please?” Vlad cheerily declared.

The steward seemed understandably unconvinced.”What’s your name?” he snorted.

Vlad told him his real name and the steward looks at him with a metric fuckload of purest disdain. “Oh…”he says. He then seemed to instantly perk up, entirely out of character and cheerily declared: “There you go sir, have a nice day!” whilst chucking the wallet back at Vlad, who grabbed it in amazement before checking the contents.

Every.single.penny.was.still.in.there.

We all looked at each other silently. It was nothing short of a miracle. Vlad decided on the spot that he was paying for the beers for the rest of the night based on the sheer unbelieve-ablity of what had transpired that day. We let him.

So as far as ‘random acts of kindness’ go, this was a multiple. I still struggle to comprehend how not only can one person anonymously find a wallet with over £300 in it, and decide to 'hand it in'…but then they do so to a chap whose minimum wage, miserable job must surely have made this a simple decision to pocket what had been handed in before denying all to the bunch of drunken twats who turned up enquiring.

But incredibly...everyone…EVERYONE decided to do the right thing. My faith in human nature changed ever-so-slightly that day.
( Pooflake braces for an onslaught..., Thu 9 Feb 2012, 17:00, 6 replies)

Pizza for the homeless
I was out shopping in Glasgow with the then Mrs Nizzy when we popped into pizza hut for something to eat. To be honest I wasn't that hungry and neither of us could finish our meals. We left with the remainder of it in a pizza box thinking we would have it later but after carting about a pizza for about 3 minutes I got bored and as I was just about to chuck it in a bin I was a homeless man sitting bedragled on argyle street with a skabby dog and a peice of cardboard professing both his hungryness and his homelesness. I being the nice chap that I am walked over held out the Pizza (still warm) and offered it to him in his hour of need.
The guy shit himself he had the look of a man who had just been asked if he wanted stabbed then came out with the line" Naw yer all right pal, ma mates awaw gettin some rolls"

The pizza went in the bin next to him.
(BiggestNizzy your company name here pm for rates., Thu 9 Feb 2012, 16:54, 3 replies)

I gave a liar a lie on the internet
and walked away with the words "lie lie lie" ringing in my ears
(TheColonel, Thu 9 Feb 2012, 16:52, 3 replies)

Today on the tube
I gave up my seat, unprompted, to a pregnant woman.

However this was (in my own mind) an attempt to rebalance my karma after finding a twenty pound note on an Oyster card reader last week. So perhaps I'm just a karma-whore..
( Finite "Aardvark sorted out my shit!" on, Thu 9 Feb 2012, 16:26, 1 reply)

Scaryduck's post reminded me of this...
When I lived in London, a homeless guy in a supermarket doorway asked me for some change. I genuinely hadn't got any, but while I was in the shop I bought him a sandwich. When I handed it to him on my way out he looked at the packet and said "No thanks, I'm a vegetarian".
(Professor Kenny Martin Hmm? What?, Thu 9 Feb 2012, 16:25, 7 replies)

The way we can change all this intolerant fuss, is to change "Look at them" into " Oh look at us"
I met my sister for lunch one day and was introduced to a slightly older lady who was a colleague of my Sis, a quick "Hello" and "this is my Brother", it maybe lasted 2-3 minutes before she went about her business. She seemed nice although a little 'mousey' I guess, she looked like you could blow her off her feet if you sneezed.
A few days later I was in a shitty coffee shop with a friend and this lady walked in, got a coffee and proceeded to cry her heart out for some unknown reason. Everyone in the vicinity stared, a few giggled and I heard a comment of "crazy lady" or something to that effect. I decided to be "kind" and went over asked her if she remembered meeting me and sat with her holding her hand and comforting her as she sobbed on my shoulder, with real heaving crying she thanked me and left. I never found out what it was that had upset her but my Sister told me she had later said it was the kindest thing anyone could have done as she felt so alone and humiliated.
( SauronWibble I'll hold it, you lick it..., Thu 9 Feb 2012, 16:24, 2 replies)

one time,
I bought a drink from a vending machine. When i got my change, there was an extra dollar in there that someone had left behind. I felt so awesome all day, just because i had found a dollar.
Now, when i buy a drink from a machine, i sometimes leave my change behind - so that the next person who comes along will hopefully get that same lucky feeling too.
(softporn 70's sink fixer, Thu 9 Feb 2012, 16:19, 2 replies)

My wife, bless her
We visited New York in december for our honeymoon, it was amazing and the 'Big City Bastard' myth was soon expelled. The locals were very friendly; I had expected pushy, "im walkin' here", in your face, wont hold a door open types. I was very wrong I'm glad to report.

We had agreed that of our 3 nights, one was for a theatre show, one for a nice meal and the other out on the lash. Mrs Monkey heard of a good bar in the village called the Fat Black Pussycat...we headed there.

It looked cool enough and we plonked down at the end of the bar nearest the door, taking things in. Mrs M was reading signs behind my head after a while, "no sports jerseys", "no stocking caps/du-rags", "no single men". The single thing stuck in my mind as there was a young white girl sitting on her own behind my missus, and I started to wonder was she some kind of sexual predator/hooker/loner...just fanciful stuff really as the beer and apple martini (wife's) flowed.

Soon enough 2 black guys came in and its obvious one was with the girl. Few drinks later 2 more guys come in and they've got a burger shaped cupcake with a candle... its the girls' boyfriend's birthday we find out through the medium of song!

Thats it! The missus is very merry and announces to me we simply must get him a birthday drink! Order him a beer!

So order I does, and she teeters over with a Stella mug, grinning like a loon. The reaction blew me away! The guys all started whooping and cheering and the girl is hugging my wife, stunned. I tip a wink and a nod, offer a hand and wish the guy happy birthday.

His mates cannot believe it and one came over to give a bro-shake-hug and tells me "that was some move man, real slick". I tell him honesly it was all my wifes idea, he just smiled and headed back saying "really cool".

The girl bought me a beer in return with a "welcome to new york". When we left it was smiles and bro-shakes all round, the guy tells me that kind of thing just doesnt happen.

My missus has got a heart of gold
(Monkeystrumpet monkey. Monkey, MONKEY!!!, Thu 9 Feb 2012, 16:01, 9 replies)

Full of the joys of altruism
We noticed the old chap living alone and shambling off to the local Co-Op; so we resolved to offer to either give him a lift or offer to do his shopping for him.

Ungrateful old fucker died before we had chance to ask.
(Chickenwire social lubricator extraordinaire, Thu 9 Feb 2012, 15:51, Reply)

When I was a young lad
I was having a piss at the movie theatre gent's room. I could see this man was looking at my willy, so I stepped back and waved it at him. "Do you want to take a picture?" I said.
He declined and scuttled out.
(the other guy not the one that gave you coochie warts, Thu 9 Feb 2012, 15:46, 5 replies)

The day I gave up smoking
I was never much of a smoker, and probably got through no more than half a dozen packets of the ponciest brands available to man in my entire life before finally kicking the habit altogether.

The day I decided that I was no longer going to be a slave to nicotine, I was sitting in my car, staring at a part-smoked packet of Marlboro Lights. On a whim, I got out of the car, and pressed them into the outstretched hand of a well-known local derelict, who I had spotted working his way up the street checking the gutter for dog-ends.

The tramp smiled at me through a nicotine-stained beard, and opened the packet to inspect his bounty, thanking me with words I shall remember all my days:

"You've smoked some, you fucker."

There's no pleasing some people.
( Scaryduck LIKES EGG, Thu 9 Feb 2012, 15:45, Reply)

I'd like to think I'm quite a nice drunk.
Certainly it seemed to be the case Christmas 2010, when I popped across the road for more booze, bought two bottles of wine, and left one on the counter, calling "Merry Christmas!" to the owner as I left.

A few days later he gave us a bottle of Baileys.

So I'm not really sure who won that exchange.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Thu 9 Feb 2012, 15:45, 7 replies)

On the subject of tramps/homeless
I was in London with the missus a few years ago, trying to follow my phone as a map to a theatre...with little luck.

We were clearly struggling to find where Blood Brothers was and must have been obvious as a mid 20's man stepped in front to offer his services. He pointed us in the right direction, with very clear instructions "down to the lights, turn left, etc..."

I was chuffed, here's a northerner proved wrong! they're not all bastards in the big city...thanked him for the bother and started to head off when he bashfully asked "not to be cheeky but do you have any spare change". It was only then I noticed his slightly grimy clothes and that he was a bit unwashed.

Stunned at my ignorance I just dug into my pocket and gave him £4 I had in there. He thanked me kindly and wished us a pleasant show.

I afterwards thought he could have easily ripped me off without my knowing but sure enough we found it just as he explained. The guy was very nice and well spoken, I sincerly hope he's ok and perhaps sorted himself out a bit.


Just thought of another one....
(Monkeystrumpet monkey. Monkey, MONKEY!!!, Thu 9 Feb 2012, 15:40, 2 replies)

I once let this guy off a kicking 'cos I was pilled off me Bristols.

( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Thu 9 Feb 2012, 15:29, 3 replies)

Nice Trampy People..
Back in the day, I spent a number of months sleeping rough. It's a long story involving the CSA, needless to say it was pretty shit.
I spent my days hiding in the local library, walking miles and miles to keep warm and pass time and scrapeing together enough change for a cuppa.

Luckily, I wasn't an alcoholic and never got into drugs so It could've been worse I suppose. The winter was a bit poo, It rained all day and was freezing at night (I once slept out in -7), One night after I'd been walking all day I got caught in a downpour on the way back to 'my doorway'. I was soaked to the bone, cold and bloody miserable.

It was then that a fellow trampy person appeared and passed me a voucher for a McDonald's coffee. Not much you may think, but at the time I was the most amazing thing. This guy didn't even know me, and had nothing himself. I turned it down at first but he used the old 'I'll be offended if you don't' line so took it and I sat in McDonalds, dryed out and warmed up.

The guy is still out there on the street. I always give him a few quid and a coffee when I see him. Sadly, he's a druggy and I don't think he even recognises me.
( Mr.Pickle Is not big or clever.., Thu 9 Feb 2012, 15:28, 1 reply)

Incredible sense of cynical pride...
...I once entered into a collective whereby everyone was struggling to find something to say...leading some to declare their disdain for the current regime, others just hufty-puffed along with the same ole routine.
i then stated a stunning diatribe which contravened all known bollocks of bollockery, with only a mild taint of pearoastery, due mainly to excessive (and self perceived, admittedly) skills of verbosity.

Said outpouring resulted in showers of hilarity, and much good feeling across t'known t'interweb.

Huzzar!! Tea and cakes all round.
(NoNoNoNoNoNoNoNoNo, Thu 9 Feb 2012, 15:28, 2 replies)

Reaching out to the elderly
As a student, I used to stay with an aunt and uncle in Bury a lot, especially over weekends. Of a morning (well, whatever time I would surface) I'd head up to the shop at the top of their road to buy a paper. To approach the shop, you'd come up to a T-junction where directly opposite was an old folk's home.

One morning, as I approached the junction, I saw an elderly lady stood in the window. She was waving in a sad, almost mournful fashion - not even putting much effort into her wave. It was a saturday morning, grey and overcast. She was alone, in a home, probably not visited by friends or family in some time. She must have felt detached from the world around her, alone, desperate for someone to recognise her existence and bring the tiniest little bit of light into her life.

I did what we all would do - put on a big shit-eating grin and waved back. After a second or so, her eyes met mine. I saw confusion, then a little fear, then finally, comprehension. She put down the cloth with which she had been happily cleaning her window, and waved cheerfully back at the grinning retard stood in the street waving at her like a massive fucknugget.

Good of her, I say.
(Bappage, Thu 9 Feb 2012, 15:23, 2 replies)

Little old lady
A few years ago when I was still playing football I did my ankle. Obviously being clever and hard I finished the game but conceded to play goal for the rest of the match as I couldn't move about very much.

Post match beers numbed the pain and off I go, limping to my home and bed.

The following morning my ankle is approximately the size of the football we were kicking out the evening before, so I get a taxi to the Whittington where they diagnose that I've ripped the cartilage from the bone and I'll have to be strapped up for a few weeks to let it heal.

(Thanks for this gem Dr "You'd have been better off breaking it, then we could have put you in a cast". I'll bear that in mind next time I'm going to hurt my ankle.)

Anyway my friend Claire came to the hospital to pick me up. I emerge with my newly acquired crutches but have to get across the road to car.

Bless the little old lady who kindly helped me across the road whilst Claire sat in the car killing herself with laughter. I hit her with my crutch when we got home.
(chilling, Thu 9 Feb 2012, 15:14, 1 reply)

Kind of relevant.

( The Mock Turtle ™ --- Thinks you are a cunt, on, Thu 9 Feb 2012, 14:59, 5 replies)

Extract from Tintern Abbey
Though absent long,
These forms of beauty have not been to me,
As is a landscape to a blind man's eye:
But oft, in lonely rooms, and mid the din
Of towns and cities, I have owed to them,
In hours of weariness, sensations sweet,
Felt in the blood, and felt along the heart,
And passing even into my purer mind
With tranquil restoration:—feelings too
Of unremembered pleasure; such, perhaps,
As may have had no trivial influence
On that best portion of a good man's life;
His little, nameless, unremembered acts
Of kindness and of love. Nor less, I trust,
To them I may have owed another gift,
Of aspect more sublime; that blessed mood,
In which the burthen of the mystery,
In which the heavy and the weary weight
Of all this unintelligible world
Is lighten'd:—that serene and blessed mood,
In which the affections gently lead us on,
Until, the breath of this corporeal frame,
And even the motion of our human blood
Almost suspended, we are laid asleep
In body, and become a living soul:
While with an eye made quiet by the power
Of harmony, and the deep power of joy,
We see into the life of things.

- William Wordsworth
(leviticus no longer likes the cut of your gib on, Thu 9 Feb 2012, 14:53, 7 replies)