Snow 'n' ice and all things nice....
...like this 'un.

About 10 years ago I was working in a computer store in Swansea one very cold and frozen January morning, and as per usual I was having a lift into work with me ol' mate H (and no, he's not Rimmer). H's wife was driving and we took a different route to the city centre to avoid alot of traffic.

One such road we travelled was particularly busy with pedestrians, who were in this case a group of parents walking their children towards a local primary school we just drove past. It was this group that made the schadenfreude.

You see, me 'n' H were quietly sitting in the car and happened to be boredly staring at this group, and as we did we saw some little happy boy run from his mother. His mum went livid and started shouting for him not to run on the grass, as this was the boy's target. They were walking alongside a patch of frozen mud and grass, and the boy was amass with enjoyment of defying his mother's pleas and sprinting merrily through the frosted earth.

That was until his trainers discovered grip. He faceplanted into the ground and slid on his forehead for a second before getting up and crying like feck and running back to his mum.

Me and H laughed all the way to work. That'll teach the little cunt :)
( Jeccius Steam Borderlands 2 junkie, Wed 23 Dec 2009, 17:21, Reply)

In the pub the other night
And a drunk guy comes wandering in and takes a piss on three girls sitting at a table.

I pissed myself, so as to keep the girls from feeling ostracised.
( mrlogic is copying your beard, Wed 23 Dec 2009, 17:17, Reply)

Slow motion cropper
About three years ago I was negotiating a very icy Sainsbury's carpark on my mountain bike whilst holding a bag of shopping with one hand.
I forgot that I only had one brake and alas I was holding the shopping bag in the appropriate hand to use the brake...
I aimed to slow myself by bumping up onto a kerb but I kept going on the ice, and the front wheel hit a low wooden piece of useless landscaping that surrounded a bush, and I went over the handlebars but in slow motion into the aforementioned shrubbery completely head first.
The point of my tale? Two well 'ard looking teenage lads saw the whole thing and fell about laughing like I've never seen before or since - they were literally doubled up with tears streaming down their cheeks for the three minutes or so it took me to sort myself out. They didn't apologise or offer me any help or concern heheh.
(Darth Tim, Wed 23 Dec 2009, 17:14, Reply)

More Train...
Not strictly misfortune of others but...

I was sat at the main station in my town, reading a book (ironically the Viz "Profanisaurus" as it turns out) sat on a bench next to a family of five, mum, dad, two girls and an older girl who was obviously a little mentally disabled. She was dancing around singing and messing about and generally enjoying herself whilst the rest of the family chatted. Without warning she stopped dancing, dropped a fart that would have drowned out any waiting train and then carried on without missing a beat.!

The family issued sounds ranging from amusement (the dad and daughters) to disgust and a light bollocking (mumsie) but it was all too much for me and I suddenly descended from a state of innocence to shaking mirth with tears streaming down my face, much to the hilarity of the entire family.

Maybe that was actually my misfortune.!
(elfinpunk Touching Cloth Since, Wed 23 Dec 2009, 16:33, 2 replies)

When NOT in Rome.....
Wow - had to dust off the memory for this one....
Ahem.

1977 - a polyester flared-clad 10 year old Sebulba and his parents were on a trip back to Europe so he could see where the family came from and also meet his rellies.
After being with Dad's side of the family in Hungary, we were travelling to see Mum's side, about halfway down the coast of Croatia (then still in Yugoslavia).

Now, if you have ever driven along the coastal roads & highways of Croatia (built over some years by the Yugoslav Army Engineers) you are in for a treat. Its good quality road up hundreds of feet in places, and the Adriatic views are spectacular. But you will also be made acutely aware of how crap the drivers are.

Y'see in them days, all you needed was enough money to buy a car and you got the license automatically. Logical enough.... apparently. Well, they were Communist at that stage, and the idea is no dafter than Centralised Economic Planning or the concept of Socialist Realism.
Driving schools were non-existent and much needed!

Due to the above:
1/ there was not one piece of un-dented Armco barrier anywhere in the country,
2/ wrecks were often left wrapped around the Armco or at the side of the road - which in places was 500 or more feet below - because it was too difficult to extract or remove them,
3/ shrines of crosses and flowers marked the sites were people had come to grief; in fact so many flowers in places that it looked like a florist had set up there (Special Mention here of the stone memorial to the two army drivers killed when one flicked a lit cigarette out the window which caused their petrol tanker to explode.....),
4/ accidents caused delays of hours and tailbacks for miles.

And it is in this situation that the Sebulba family find themselves. A plume of black smoke twisting upwards ahead in the distance indicated another accident out of view. Traffic was at a standstill as far as the corners of the road would let you see. The early afternoon summer sun was beating down relentlessly.

And behind us tooting his horn with equal relentlessness was an Italian dude in a Bambina with wife & 2 kids. Through the rear window we could see them arguing and him tooting, and more arguing followed by tooting, coupled with arguing and determined tooting.
Repeat indefintely.....
What may have worked in Rome traffic had no effect in Yugoslavia that day. The traffic wouldn't - couldn't - move.

After about an hour of this insanity, the people in the car in front had had enough of the racket - as had all of us within earshot.
They got out and walked past our car and stopped at the Bambina.
One reached though the sunroof and pulled out the Italian, who was mid-argument, whilst the other delivered two quick punches to his somewhat perplexed face.
Whereupon he was dropped back into the car - bleeding, dazed, and confused, but totally aware that he was to STFU from then on.
Indeed, the horn remained in an un-tooted state for the remainder of our enforced stop.

Length - 2 hours to clear the road, then 20 minutes driving until we came upon the next accident...
(Sebulba continues to fight evil with evil....., Wed 23 Dec 2009, 16:31, 1 reply)

Arse Train...
When I regularly used to visit an ex who lived in Bath I had to catch a train to Bristol Temple Meads and then change for Bath there.

One day I dived into the first train to arrive (a 150/2 on the way from Cardiff to Portsmouth just so you know and my autistic brain can let out ALL the details) and ended up stood by the doors as it was pretty full and I only had a ten minute journey in front of me. The guard wandered past in the direction of his end (oooh err missus) and I suddenly spied three girls running to get on...

... the first two made it, for they were more lithe and less plump, the third one made a jump for it just as the beeping started. As it stopped she hit the step into the saloon JUST as the sliding doors slammed shut...

...on her arse. She stood there totally wedged with both cheeks firmly stuck between the doors until the units electrics worked out there was a blockage and reopened them. No one in the carriage could have helped her purely as everyone was helpless with laughter. She took it in good humour although turning a fantastic shade of scarlet.

The image of that chubby chick with her bumcakes firmly fixed in that doorway like a fat hamster stuck in a rotastack pipe will go with me to the grave.
(elfinpunk Touching Cloth Since, Wed 23 Dec 2009, 16:28, 3 replies)

Not *strictly* Schadenfreude,
more a hugely inappropriate choice, or so I thought.

Watching the Great British Institution that is BBC One, I saw an advert for a documentary. This was a couple of months after Hurricane Katrina had flooded most of New Orleans, and said documentary was going to tell us all about the damage wreaked upon this city by the terrifying winds and rising seas.

The music playing through the background of this trailer?
Led Zeppelin: When the Levee Breaks
(LongJohnBaldry, Wed 23 Dec 2009, 15:56, 4 replies)

Sometimes karma is swift.
While driving through town over the weekend, we noticed someone had moved the "Police Accident" sign and tape that was blocking the entrance to a ridiculously icy side-road.

No sooner had we spotted this, than we saw the culprit, about 10 meters up the hill, her wheels spinning in a vain effort to stop her car sliding back down.

Ich liebe schadenfreude.
( The Coast Of Yemen, Wed 23 Dec 2009, 15:35, Reply)

Me old Driving Instructor (pearoast, seems to suit this topic fine)
While I was having a driving lesson in Swansea one particular afternoon we drove past some disabled kid with some giant headphones on. I knew of this kid as he was originally in my college and regularly abused anyone who even looked at him, let alone said something to him. He was a classic "Eyes-too-close" variety person and had the chromosones to match.

Vince, me instructor, spots this poor bastard and starts off on one.
"Hey Jeccy, look at that bright cunt by there."
"You can't say that," says I, "that's Duncan."
"How the hell do you know him then Jeccy?" asks Vince.
"He was in college with me."
Quick as a flash, "What the fuck was he doing in college with you, A Level fucking Paper Tearing?"

I almost crashed the car.
( Jeccius Steam Borderlands 2 junkie, Wed 23 Dec 2009, 14:54, 8 replies)

cliff climbing at 8 years old
My family were on holiday at the beach. I was 8 and decided to scale a cliff which we were sat in front of. To be honest, the bit I decided to climb was only about 15ft, but I was an expert tree climber, so I thought this should be no problem.

About half way up, I hit a sandy bit and my bottle went completely. I could feel myself falling any second and started to make this high pitched wail. My dad thought it was very funny and started taking the p!ss.

My response 'I don't have any grip because I bite my nails'

He's never let me live that down 30 years on.

Worst still, my younger sister who was 6, climbed up and helped me down.
(a5972s, Wed 23 Dec 2009, 14:53, Reply)

Birthday treat
Mrs Vagabond treated me to a proper surprise party dinner on Drury Lane for my birthday a couple of years ago. It was lovely.

On our exit from the restaurant to go to the pub, a stretch limo full of drunken twat wideboys drove slowly down past us. They were the sort of twats that go on about being "alpha male", and were leaning out of the windows propositioning every female on the street, making "cheeky" comments to all the men, and obviously completely genuinely thought they were being really, really cool.

Imagine everyone's delight, then, as the limo came to the corner of the side road it had to turn down, and got completely, absolutely stuck - the entire street cheered.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Wed 23 Dec 2009, 14:45, 3 replies)

I have a problem sitting.
Occasionally my brain incorrectly manages to perceive depth correctly, and ends up with me attempting to sit down in a chair that happens to be a foot to the right of my arse. This usually results in giggles all round, a bruised arse and my pride even more damaged.
( Slippery Mick ‏, Wed 23 Dec 2009, 14:38, Reply)

Grand prix snooker semi-final.
A few years ago, when the snooker was still in Aberdeen I had a mate who worked at the exhibition centre who scored us some tickets. The match in question was Higgins vs Fu (the semi-final if I recall).

During the final frame Higgins comes to the table and someone shouts 'go on John!'. Then right afterwards this little disabled chap on the front row lets out a yelp of encouragement. At first I didn't know what the noise was, then it clicked just as I could hear my friend sat next to me doing that giggling through the nose thing. For the next 5 minutes we kept setting each-other off; one of us would stop then a few broken breaths through the nose from the other would set us both off again. I was trying so hard not to laugh it was coming back round to bite me in the arse. What makes it worse was I was sat next to a girl of about 9 who at one point asked her dad what we were laughing at, a rather pissed off "I don't know" was the reply.
( Slippery Mick ‏, Wed 23 Dec 2009, 14:29, Reply)

Slow Goin' Surfin'
About 100 years ago (or so it seems) there was a lad in my department who decided he'd take up wind surfing. He got all the kit and and expensive wetsuit, and set off to our local river. He'd been told it was an ideal place to learn.

Apparently (I just can't believe he admitted this) he got to the river, changed, and set off up the raised bank, only to discover the tide was out.

He then proceeded down to the muddy silt, determined to get to the small trickly running down the middle, about 50 yards away.

He was up to his chest in mud, using the surfboard as a makeshift bridge, to get 6' further each time, until he realized it just wasn't worth the effort. He decided to give up and turn around.

As he did, he noticed the pub in the bank, with all the patrons laughing at him from the panoramic window.

They'd watched him for the last 20 minutes, and had another 20 minutes of watching him crawling back!
(Kliper Filllets Getting noticed by twats on the internet since, Wed 23 Dec 2009, 14:19, 2 replies)

Pissing rain on the M62
...I mean proper can't see shit rain. Sensible little me driving along carefully in the left hand lane, or "slow lane" as some twats think it's called. White van driver in the "fast lane" (twat-speak) thinks he's better than the weather and speeds past at probably about 70.

A few minutes later and a few miles further what's that stopped still in the third lane - it's the white van and it's facing the wrong way.

Fuck knows how but there were no other vehicles involved and quite unfortunately the driver wasn't injured.
(fuksox is a noob. deal with it, Wed 23 Dec 2009, 14:09, 5 replies)

Another train related story...
Bloke helps wife and her baggage onto train. Doors close behind him, leaving him on train with wife and baggage.

We're on a sprinter train in Leicester and the last stop before London. He tries to explain his plight to the conductor who was having none of it. Bloke then had to pay a return fare.

Half an hour later, train breaks down and we are on the train for 5+ hours. Its a bank holiday!
We finally get into London after the trains have stopped running for the night, so he then had to find accommodation for the night, before returning the next day.

Expensive weekend for him me thinks :)
(a5972s, Wed 23 Dec 2009, 14:02, 7 replies)

Young lad missing his train
Picture the scene...

Young lad waiting patiently for train to arrive at station. Train pulls in and another bloke with lots of luggage moves in front of the young lad. Doors open and older bloke starts loading his bags onto the train and then gets on himself. Doors start to close and young lad doesn't quite make it.

He then keeps hitting the open door button as the train starts to disembark. Young lad runs along side it waving his fists about and screaming obscenities.

Me and 3 others all watched it happen and then tried desperately to mask our laughter as he stomped about in front of us.
(a5972s, Wed 23 Dec 2009, 13:53, 3 replies)

Fuck you Stu
Many years ago I had a small core of friends, and the only thing that kept us all together was the fact that we lived about 10 minutes walk from each other. I still keep in touch with Col (not nearly as much as I should) and a couple of others, but the rest meh, but one of the pack I would be happy to never see again, let's call him Stu.

Stu was unintelligent and had the social charms of a cuckolded bull rhinocerus but was hard. And didn't we know it. He delighted in the misfortune of others and was relentless in his pursuit of even the mildest quirk, condition or mistake. This story centres round the theft of my bike.

My parents aren't rich but they do ok, but I always had inferior things to Stu. One year I had generic-squashy-head action man, he had fucking eagle eyes. Another year his radio controlled car was much better than mine. Of course this was more of an issue for him than myself. I was happy with my lot in life and was content to play my own game.

Then it was bikes. One christmas I got a bike. I loved that bike. It was a sprint harrier and was red. Problem with my Sprint Harrier was that it faded a bit and the crossbar was rubbed by my leg every time I jumped on and off such that the crappy grey raw metal was exposed. Now it was a pink bike apparently. I had to put up with that cunt and his relentless jibes for about a year until, out of the blue Mum and Dad bought me a new bike. It was a blue Emmelle mountain bike and I was chuffed with it. When Stu found out that it 'only' cost my parents 80 quid he was all over it, for his bike cost £250. We are talking 20 years ago, so big money.

Anyway, down to business. We used to cycle to each others' houses, park our bikes on the front lawns and listen to music an' shit. After an evening of high entertainment round Gordon's place we exited his house and my bike isn't there. All of my friends deny all knowledge and after a few minutes it dawns on me that my bike has been stolen. I then had to walk home with that cunt following me and revelling in my misfortune.

We called the coppers and got an incident form while pc plod typed it up on his imaginary typewriter...blahdiblah. Unlikely to see it again blahblah. Next morning I have to walk to school and there's Stu, cycling alongside me gleefully telling anyone that gives a shit about the night's events.

That evening its off to Gordon's house again to play pool on his shitty six foot table and everyone piles round. I am still the butt of some jokes, but the evening goes ok. We all leave at the same time to find that Stu's bike is missing from the lawn.

It didn't take long for us all to realise that it had been nicked and at that point I truly believed that two wrongs can indeed make a right.
(mersault, Wed 23 Dec 2009, 13:12, 1 reply)

Previous QOTW entry, still makes me laugh
b3ta.com/questions/hell/post331356
(smithe-ingelby-smithe, Wed 23 Dec 2009, 11:28, Reply)

Reality TV is based entirely upon the concept of shadenfreude, and thus anyone who watches it is engaging in such.
The end.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Wed 23 Dec 2009, 11:10, 3 replies)

Whenever Man UTD lose.
I can't hide my wry smile knowing that one of my meat-head Man UTD supporting colleagues is smashing his fists against some inanimate object.

It's only a bloody game lad. Chin up.
( Airman Gabber Living life like a 70's BBC presenter, Wed 23 Dec 2009, 11:02, 5 replies)

Well, I laughed.
"Why doesn't Scotland Grind to a halt when it snows?"
Friday:Because we're really organised and know how to drive in icy conditions, not like you English poofters
Tuesday: "Fucksocks"


...And Wednesday...

On the plus side if it was Prestwick it was probably a Ryanair flight, so getting to use the escape slides would be the best part of the whole journey.
(richardm, Wed 23 Dec 2009, 9:43, 4 replies)

I saw someone fall over once.

( Amorous Badger NAKED BEA ARTHUR PHOTOS 4U, Wed 23 Dec 2009, 8:40, 13 replies)

Teacher folly
Sudo's post reminded me:

The deputy head at my old school could be a bit of an arse; never really to me as I was one of the rugby lads which granted you immunity, but definitely to a lot of my friends. Overzealous persecution which in some cases amounted to bullying; when you're a kid and it's a teacher that's harassing you, there isn't a huge amount that can be done.
I understand the position that teachers are in, as I'm now one, albeit not in the UK system, but being a prick just for the sake of it is inexcusable.

Imagine the surprise and glee that spread amongst my friends as this made it's way round our various inboxes.

www.timdingle.com/daily-mail-4-2-6.aspx

*edit* added BBC link for pedants
www.timdingle.com/bbc-news-27-4-6.aspx

Kinda puts smoking by the playing fields in to perspective, eh. *Edit* No drugs, second lives, manwhoring - detention for you, Tim, 200 lines "I must not be a sociopathic arsehat"
(Manbearpig is wearing a rabbitskin jacket and bunny ears, Wed 23 Dec 2009, 3:33, 12 replies)

was having a bit of a mare getting home earlier
there's a thick layer of ice on all the pavements into town and iv been getting from place to place by walking on the road or grabbing hold of the walls and pulling myself along. i was scrambling trying to get from the wall to the road and a bloke walked past, laughed and pointed at me then promptly slipped right over on the patch of ice id been trying to avoid.
(ladyintheradiator, Wed 23 Dec 2009, 0:23, 4 replies)

A guy from my class at school...
He wasn't a full on violent or agressive bully, but he would do enough to regularly make life unpleasant.

A few months ago I was tipped off about this news article.

I've almost finished laughing.
( sudo is bored, Tue 22 Dec 2009, 23:58, 4 replies)

During his no doubt heady daytime TV days
I was sneezed on by Robert Kilroy-Silk. In an Airport. Not on TV either.
How I occasionally smile slightly when I consider how closely his subsequent career resembles a sizeable chunk of lung butter ...
(Ted Cunterblast, Tue 22 Dec 2009, 23:27, 1 reply)

Crowd Surfing Fail
Concerts are a great place for things like this. My sister has a very short temper so is not exactly the girl you want to mess with. Whenever you go to a concert there is always the token knobhead. Not content with having a good time like everyone else they have to piss everyone off.

Guy in the white tshirt was one of these people. He would come out of the pit and try to drag girls in, now there is no way you could mistake the girls for being part of the pit because of where they were stood. My guess is he was too weak to handle the guys in their so decided to pick on someone else cause whenever a guy tried to take him on he'd disappear from the pit. He was constantly trying to drag the girls in then pushing them.

He then changed his trick to trying to crowd surf by climbing over my sister and another young lady's back and jumping forward. Now i have nothing against crowd surfing but jumping on two random girls when you're already being a knob isnt going to get you anywhere.

On his third try of crowd surfing my sister waited for him to jump on her back. Sure enough white tshirt guy comes running up jumps on her back... but instead of jumping back down he falls flat on his back clutching his crotch.

She'd punched him in the balls.
I've never been so proud.
(stitched, Tue 22 Dec 2009, 22:11, 2 replies)

The queue for the disco
He once threw a basketball at the back of my head at school and knocked me out. He was not the school bully, for 'Nick' (that was his name) was too snide for bullying. He was the bloke who would empty tip-ex upside down in your schoolbag and never admit to it. It was all sneaky-sneaky with this prick...always behind your back, from behind a concealed hand...oh, and he once broke into the car belonging to his best friend's Mum (who lived next door) and sold the radio, and never admitted to it. Oh yes, he was evil in a way that my 16-year-old self could never understand.

Everyone at school was pretty careful to stay on his good side, should they find their bag full of tip-ex, or suddenly eating pavement having been knocked out by a errant basketball. Until the night the entire year embarked on a trip to the 'bad side' of town- to visit an 'underage nightclub'. As in, an u18s dance, only populated with quite dangerous borstal types and sink-estate gangsters. These lads were a step up on the criminal ladder from stealing car-radios.

We queued up, looking and feeling horribly middle-class and over dressed, and Nick was there in a white Ralph Lauren shirt, as was the fashion at the time. I'm coming to the Schadenfreude bit here, because no one saw the pack of feral youths approaching.

They seemed to have Nick by the throat so quickly, yet despite being in a group of 50 so-called mates, no one seemed to spring to his defence. Nick looked rather worried, and his sideways glances at 1) his so-called mates and 2) a parked police van full of coppers, went amiss.

They found him to have nothing worth stealing, so they relieved him of his shirt, and so he was left, in a snaking queue of what must have been 500 of his piers, neighbours and friends, topless. I remember the moment when he started crying.
(whitehorse, Tue 22 Dec 2009, 21:56, 2 replies)