Motorbikes
When I was a wee slip of a lad 10ish, I had my very own 50cc monster that I used to keep at a friend's farm and he and I would scream around like pre-pubescent Evil Kinevles all holidays long.

One balmy summer he had his cousin staying and he was, in short, a complete twathammer and commandeered my mate's bike and set off for what looked like a patch of crusted over mud. Maybe because of the helmet or the exhaust note sounding like demented wasp he didn't hear our warning.

He got halfway across when the crust cracked and he started slowing down as the front wheel sank into the slurry pit he had just ridden into, as his momentum slowed, his balance failed and he went head first into 2 foot of fermenting cow shit. We were pissing ourselves with laughter as he slowly emerged looking like the creature from the shit lagoon, we then made him wade back in to attach a rope to the bike so we could tow it out.

Then to top it off, his aunty made him stand in the farm courtyard in his pants so she could hose him down all the time my mate and I are pissing ourselves so hard that I'm sure I shot vimto out of my nose.
(Speshal, Fri 18 Dec 2009, 12:30, Reply)

My sister, an axe and a visit to A&E
My sister is a little bit clueless when it comes to most things to be honest and personal preservation is not a strong suit.

I was home from university for Christmas and was at the top of my parents garden splitting logs for the fire with an axe that I'd just sharpened for that purpose. Nicola wandered up for a chat and to catch up as we hadn't seen each other for a few months but kept on looking longingly at the axe. I could see the question forming in her head and after five minutes or so she pipes up with "Can I have a go?"

Now I have to point out that although at the time of this story, my sister was 18 years old but still wasn't allowed near the axe normally for fear that she would hurt herself being the cliché blonde clutz that she was (and still is). "You have got to be joking" says I, "you'll end up chopping off a toe or something equally painful and it will be my fault for giving you the axe."

Cue ten minutes of "Aww, please, I'll be really careful, honest!" So against my better judgement, I cave in and say that she can have ONE go and no more as long as she does it exactly as I have shown her .

Bugger me if she doesn't do it perfectly in the first swing; an nice clean even split. But before I have even had time to draw breath she starts asking for another go. Impressed with her first attempt but more relieved that we were both intact I let her have a second go. Which was a mistake.

For those of you who haven't split logs with an axe, if you don't hit the log square on and the axe head is at an angle it often doesn't bite into the wood and will bounce back. If at the same time you aren't gripping the handle firmly, the axe will swivel in your hands.

Funnily enough this is what happened to my sister on her second swing after completely ignoring everything I had just taught her not two minutes before.

The result? The sharp side of the axe in her forehead. Her first words after putting the axe into her forehead? "Are my sunglasses alright?" referring to the sunglasses she had pushed up on top of her head out of the way so she could see the log better.

What did I do? Nearly wet myself laughing at her as the blood gushed out.

Luckily it was only a glancing blow but still needed stitches and we definitely don't let her near the axe any more.
(Angio can smell your fear just by looking at you., Fri 18 Dec 2009, 12:04, Reply)

It's worse to admit it...
someone I once 'knew' in the local was a real spanner...complete idiot, the one who failed the village idiot job and all that.

He was known for having great levels of personal misfortune so one day when he wandered in with his nose all plastered up and quite clearly having been broken we did wonder if he'd upset anyone.

He then proceeded to tell us in his garbled knuckle dragging voice that on the way home from work he had walked into a lampost.

The dozy cnut couldn't then understand why the rest of us damn near pissed ourselves at both the level of stupidity and force needed to break your nose walking into a lampost but the brave ignorance that allows you to admit it instead of coming up with any bullshit story that would be marginally less humiliating.
(bluehamster, Fri 18 Dec 2009, 11:55, 2 replies)

How unlucky can you be?
Playing football with friends back before I became a fat knacker, things used to get quite competitive and serious.

One day, out on the playing field we used to take over, we were taking a free kick fairly seriously and the goalkeeper - replete in vintage Schmeichel shirt - had arranged a defensive wall. Our star striker, Griff, was standing right up next to the wall, hoping to get into the fray if the free kick failed to clear the defenders.

Andy, the free-kick taker, placed the ball, sidled back for his run up, and picked his moment to hit it. He put all his force into a mighty, Roberto Carlos-like kick, which completely failed to get the lift required to clear the wall, and instead flew like a cannonball into Griff's bollocks. Everyone winced. It was horrible. This wasn't the moment of schadenfreude - it was just too unpleasant.

That moment came a few minutes later. Griff had wandered off the field, been sick in a hedge, and finally decided he was ready to come back on. As he was already standing at the byline and the ball had just gone out of play, it was natural that he should take the throw in. Andy ran off and retrieved the ball from the hedge, and struck it long range towards Griff, who - looking the other way talking to another player - completely failed to see it coming and took another full-on strike to the gonads, promptly keeling over at the side of the field in tears.

Oh, how we laughed...
(SnowyTheWereRabbit the Leporid from Hell, Fri 18 Dec 2009, 11:39, 2 replies)

I don't tend to actually see the misfortune of others
... in a "You've Been Maimed, sorry Framed" sort of way because regular QOTW readers for the last few months might recall that I am virtually blind. As a result I tend to take a pratfall more than your average bear so I don't tend to find other people hurting themselves funny. I can relate, innit.

However the funniest of my own misfortunes were when I was fully sighted. It seems abit bad form to laugh at a blind woman so people rush to help rather than laugh at me these days, although my fiance (totally blind) and I often piss ourselves at each other falling over the dog or out of bed or whatever.

Wavy lines...

When I were a schoolgirl of fourteen or so, the in thing to do was to chuck your mate's bag somewhere inaccessible or awkward. We went to a school which had a five foot chainlink fence running along the front of the playground, which bordered a very busy main road. (Blyth Jex in Norwich, for any of you Norfukkers out there.)
One lunch time, we were hanging about down by the front fence as usual, and one of the lads in our group decided to chuck my friends bag over the fence onto the path by the road. She was not pleased. They thought it was the funniest thing ever. To retrieve it we would have had to walk up the field to the gate, then walk around two sides of the playground. I wasn't in for that - and neither was she - so I asked my mate to give me a leg up, and over the fence I lithely popped in a gymnastic move I wouldn't have believed possible of me unless I'd done it. There was another boy in the group that I had been trying to seduce (in a schoolgirl way) and I wanted to make an impression and show him what a loyal, helpful friend I was.
Bag retrieved. Male element of the group's laughter stilled. Round of applause from the builders in a house opposite who were sitting outside having their lunch. Best friend thinks I'm the mutt's nuts.
Problem is, I still have to get back over the fence. This is where it all went wrong.

Not having someone to give me a leg up on the other side, I have to sort of climb up the chainlink. I get to the top, attempt to spring over and promptly get caught on it. I descend hurriedly and ungracefully down the other side, but my skirt is attaching me to the top of the fence. Cue the skirt sliding up to cover my upper body and face as I come down, to reveal my knickers to all and sundry. As a result of trying to impress the lad mentioned earlier, I was wearing hold ups too.
The builders in the house opposite choke on their chips and piss themselves laughing. The boys in our group are agog, then they collapse into laughter. My friend promptly tries to rip me free whilst another friend jumps in front of me and tries to shield me from the rest of the school with her coat. However my scantied arse is still on display to everyone driving past on the main road at lunchtime. Hoots and catcalls abound. Underneath my skirt I am as red as a barn door.

Then, my friends who are trying to help me start laughing, which means they are too incapacitated to be useful. Eventually I manage to get free after struggling like a landed fish, and the builders give me a round of applause. I even manage to give them a little curtsey with my torn skirt, and laugh it off.

The fact that potentially the whole school saw my knickers took a while to live down. But I pulled the lad I was trying to impress with the hold ups. Obviously he liked what he saw. ;)
(womanwhocanonlylivewithdogs, Fri 18 Dec 2009, 11:21, 3 replies)

Sorry for being off topic
I don't really know where else to post.

But I just got a call from the perfect girl in my previous post. She has broken up with her boyfriend and has asked me round. I still feel like death having only got back from Switzerland in the early hours (all worth it though, Fulham actually won for a change) but I couldn't care less.

Don't want to count my chickens before they hatch, but I feel really good. Actually I feel fucking fantastic.

Wish me luck.
(Barry from Eastenders is, despite the words written above, not a woman, Fri 18 Dec 2009, 11:13, 12 replies)

I saw it on TV
Heather Mills Bitching that she couldn't afford to fly her and child first class,despite having a squillion of Paul's money. I felt very sorry for the newly paupered uni-pod
(BigAndyBee, Fri 18 Dec 2009, 11:13, 1 reply)

It's not nice to laugh at misfortune, but there are exceptions..
As had been said elsewhere, I don't on the whole go out searching for people having misfortune to laugh about - unless of course they are cunts.

Well into the top ten of Cunty McCunts I derive pleasure at seeing misfortune befall is :

news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/uk_politics/7927668.stm

I'm counting the days until the unelected slimy toad is removed from the ability to affect government policy.
(I don't condone what the protester did, incidentally, as the longer term implications might not be good but it still makes me smile)
(syllopsium, Fri 18 Dec 2009, 10:59, 3 replies)

Squash
Years ago I was playing squash with a friend and was trapped at front of court, I attempted a sneaky lob but underhit the ball. As I turned I was terrified to notice him barreling forward with raquet raised looking like Genghis Khan in battle. I turned away, lifted arms to protect head and jumped.

Bad move.

He hit the ball with all he had and it shot between my legs and smacked my conker-bag from the rear. I let out what must have been a horrifying scream before somersaulting and landing in a weeping, crumpled heap on the floor. Players from other courts had arrived to see what had happened.

As I lay there cradling my bruised and throbbing ballsack - and in a pool of my own vomit - I looked up to see my opponent with tears streaming down his face attempting a sympathetic look. "Are you alright?" he managed before falling over laughing. Just before the white light overtook me and I passed out I did manage to utter the word 'cunt'.
(Tugnut I got them all..., Fri 18 Dec 2009, 10:58, 3 replies)

Meeting parents for the first time..
Way back when I was 18, I started seeing a large breasted sweetie (just thought I'd add that, but they were splendid) We were about 3 weeks into our sex fest, lets just face it, at that age its all you do. Anyway... she decided its was time to meet her family, just for a meal, not sex, although her mum was worth a squirt. again.... ANYWAY.. so we pop round for a family Sunday lunch, there's myself, big jugs Jr (her) big jugs Snr (her mum) her father (never saw his jugs) and her 13 year old brother. So we're tucking in to our beef and yorkshire puddings, when her little brother who was sat opposite me, lifted his left bum cheek and let out a fantastic fart, not bad for one so young, had a distinct duck noise, which to this day makes me smile.. but at the time, it made me do one of those stiffled laughs, the one that is hidden in your nose, a kind of snort, but just as I did that I had a mouth full of peas and gravy... so, there I am, sat there with the whole family staring at me like they'd just walked in on me giving their cat a golden shower.. I have coming out of my nose, about half a pint of gravy, and 3... yes 3 pea's.. they fell out of my nose, and stuck nicely to my top lip... brilliant, we broke up shortly after, she has now got married and knocked out a couple of kids, I bet they never went thirsty... her tits are now saggy !! and her brother is a smackhead.. so every cloud and all that !!
(20 InTheStink, Fri 18 Dec 2009, 10:58, 3 replies)

Playground Football
My middle school was shit, but I do carry around a fond memory of one particular incident that happened at lunch time.

For the boys football was the sport to play, even if you didn't like it and were no good, it was better than wandering around aimlessly or talking to the teachers.

Anyway our school 'superiors' had decided that real footballs were too dangerous and so we were limited to playing with tennis balls (thaaat's right).

On this fateful afternoon the match was in full swing, the tennis ball pinging back and forth from one end of the playground to the other when the hero of our story steps up and attempts a manoeuvre no man should try, especially not if you happen to be overweight and wearing school trousers...

The ball bounces at him about chest height, for some reason he thinks it will be a good idea to try and kick it at this height. Not an overhead kick mind you, just a standard 'left foot on the floor, swing the right boot at it' kind of kick.
- The right leg is swung forwards and upwards
- The non-stretchy fabric of school trousers tightens where the two legs join and pulls the left leg forwards slightly lifting it off the ground, but not before ripping for all to hear.
- Idiot falls flat on his back, hitting his head on the concrete, legs splayed with a huge rip from fly to arse-crack.

I think just about every single person fell about laughing. Not one person offered the lad a hand, he just got up and trudged off to the toilets, one hand on his head and one on his arse trying to cover the rip. Dignity firmly destroyed
(porkinator is a Rock n Roll nerd!, Fri 18 Dec 2009, 10:57, Reply)

The angry, angry man...
I was working in a pub as a student, when I met the angry, angry man. Red-faced, sweaty, and doing the heavy-but-slow breathing of someone trying desperately to hold their temper, it was clear that he was very, very angry. He looked like most callers to Local Radio phone-ins sound...

'Stella!'
'We don't have Stella, mate. Carlsberg Export?.'

This was too much for the angry, angry man... he clearly felt that I was conning him in some way, and lost control, his voice raising to a strained pitch

'What sort of fucking pub doesn't have Stella?'
'Erm... this one.'
'Fucking hell... alright.'

As I'm pouring, his ladyfriend comes in behind him. A Tasmanian Devil-like blur of screaming and blonde hair and lipstick. I realise, looking on, that she is possibly more angry than he is. As he retreated out of the door again, forgetting about having his quiet drink, she followed him out, loudly questioning his manhood, his parentage, and, indeed, his sexuality.

Unwilling to take his frustration out on her, he lashed out with a mighty kick at the pub sign as he exited. In a cruel addition to his already burgeoning woes, he hadn't taken account of the fact the sign was made of heavy wood and metal, and weighed down with sand in the base to stop local youths nicking it.

He'd be lucky if he hadn't just broken his foot. How we laughed as he hopped off down he street on his one good foot, driven on by the relentless beating his partner was now administering with her handbag.

Once I had recovered from the hilarity of this unexpected spectacle, I returned to my place behind the bar, and drank the angry, angry man's pint.
(SnowyTheWereRabbit the Leporid from Hell, Fri 18 Dec 2009, 10:55, 1 reply)

Don't mess with another man's wife...
A few years back, I was out and about on the razz with my mate & we scored with a couple of girls. Unbeknown to me, but known to my mate, the girl whose face I Was hoovering off was married, but split up form her old man.

I wasn't all that bothered & didn't pursue the girl. A week later, we found ourselves back at the same club, this time though, with another three of my mates. After & by now fairly rinsed, we were outside waiting for a cab & I noticed a guy sat on the kerb, weeping. Being a good lad, I went over & asked what was wrong? He started going on about what a slut his missus was & how she'd stuffed him for all his money, had the shirt off his back, was carrying on with other blokes etc. Now, I had no idea who this guy was (can you see where this is going?) whilst my mates knew full well, it was the hubby of last week's conquest. So they're all stood there thinking 'what a cununt' & I genuinely don't know who I'm talking to.

Then I stood up & walked smack into a lampost, giving myself a good old beer egg, right on the forehead, accompanied by cries of KARMA, KARMA.

Best thing of all, a week after that, my little scrotey mate, who could have clued me in in the first place but chose not to, was telling the story to yet another bunch of mates, as we made our way to the pub again, and had just reached the lampost denouement, when he walked in to a set of low railings, neatly spearing himself in the bollocks & thus scoring the best own goal since Riise stuffed Liverpool in the champions league.
(rustytruck, Fri 18 Dec 2009, 10:49, 1 reply)

Karma Police
The M69. You'd think from being numerically blessed with the most mutually generous of sexual positions, it would be a motorway that couldn't fail to take you to a happy place. Well, you'd be wrong - in one direction it takes you to Leicester, and in the other it takes you to Coventry.

I can only imagine that when the motorway was first opened, the inhabitants of both cities flocked onto it, desperate to escape for a better life elsewhere, only to end up bitterly disappointed at the other end. It's the road that proves that the grass isn't always greener on the other side.

Anyhow, the one benefit of having a road with no enticing destinations is that it's usually quite traffic-free, allowing for some speedy East-West Midlands migration.

Usually, that is, except for the one day you want to get somewhere. Back when I worked in Birmingham, one day I needed urgently to get to a client in Leicester (why the fuck anyone would urgently need to get to Leicester is unfortunately lost in the haze of time now). I was therefore disappointed to see queues of traffic as I joined the M69. I can only assume the "M" on the sign was obscured, and everyone was blindly following a promise of mutual oral satisfaction.

Evenutally, the traffic changed from a total standstill to gradual movement. This should have improved things, but it actually just played into the hands of the true cunts of the motorway - lane-weavers.

You know the sort - the dicks who believe that their journey has higher priority over those of everyone around them, and so will happily cut you up with inches to spare, in order to get them to their destination two seconds earlier. I'm sure there's a special place in hell reserved for them, just between people who ruin the endings of films you haven't seen yet and whoever was responsible for commissioning Horne & Corden.

After about five of these twunts had swerved across the front of me, getting closer and closer to the bumper of my car, I was starting to get a bit pissed off, so when the traffic started to pick up pace, I was happily thinking it was over. At this point, a sixth fuckstick hove into view, seemingly from nowhere, causing me to hit the brakes and give him a blast on the horn.

Had I realised that said fuckstick was an undercover policeman, I probably wouldn't have been quite as vociferous in my reaction. I didn't realise, however, until he pulled across into the next lane, slowed down until I was level with him, and then showed me his warrant card and beckoned towards the hard shoulder with a look of pure smug satisfaction on his face.

Thankfully, that look was quickly wiped off his face. Whilst concentrating on searching for his warrant card and looking smugly sideways, he failed to notice that the traffic in his lane had come to a stop, and he casually drove slowly into the car in front of him.

Laugh? I almost shat a kidney.
( TheMagicDwarf is back like ballroom dancing, Fri 18 Dec 2009, 10:46, 7 replies)

No it's not a ball!
When I was about 12 or so our family went on holiday to East Runton.

When tide was out a large area of flatish sand was exposed and it was here that we found a rock the size of a bowling ball. The rock was almost spherical and me and my two brothers started happily bowling the rock to each other.

My elder brother bowled the rock towards my little brother who missed it. The rock just carried on rolling past him. Out of nowhere a barefoot guy appeared running toward the rock.

"No!" we cried "It's not a ball!" Too late! The guy kicked the "ball" hard. The rock actually left the sand by a few inches! There was a resounding "Crack" and the guy limped away.

I kind of felt sorry for him, but I laughed until my stomach hurt!
( Vambo, Fri 18 Dec 2009, 10:39, Reply)

pikeys
A few Christmas's ago now, I was sat in the Aldershot McDonalds having a pre-booze feedbag when four pissed-up, proper pikeys came in shouting their heads off, being total wankers, quite literally throwing their weight around. The Macky-D manager, bravely, tells them to keep the noise down and also leave the cans of Carling outside, because they don't have a drinks licence. Cue even more outraged nonsense by the pikeys until a teenager sat nearest the counter with a bunch of his mates says, "keep the noise down mate", to which the biggest, meanest looking pikey gives it "fuckin' come 'ere and say that, you short-haired cunt".

The last I saw of the pikeys, before the ambulance turned up, was of one of them being repeatedly bounced off the little spikey fence outside McDonalds, pissing blood from many orifices.

Clue to pikeys : If you're going to pick a fight with thirty members of 2-para, it's gonna take a lot more than four of you.
( Linbox has a serious dunk habit, Fri 18 Dec 2009, 10:13, 7 replies)

Locals at Millwall
Millwall FC is a terrible place to go and visit. It is filled with the uggliest pitbull-esque dregs that years of inbreeding could produce. It's a terrible place, made worse by the terrible people.

Anyway, I'm at a night game in the corner of the visitors stand, and there in the walkway infront of the home terrace is one of the locals.

He's a typical. White tracksuit jacket, burberry accessories, tracky bottoms ttucked in socks, cartoon character face, gel head. And he's giving it large.

The abuse from his mouth is neither articulate, witty or even really abusive... but he's having a go. He's stood in a large puddle - it's a wet evening. And he's getting more and more animated as he throws some v's and hooped fingers to elaborate his words.

Suddenly, he gets that excited and more animated, and he does a slow motion slip backwards, as his feet rise above his head and he flops into the puddle, cracking his head on the concrete below.

The away stand roared with laughter, as did the home stand, and the sorry looking muppet had to walk head low back to his seat. Wet and ridiculed.

And then we stuffed them 2-0.

Aces.
( Piper Alpha is being a grumpy northerm bastard on:, Fri 18 Dec 2009, 9:05, Reply)

In Caerdydd
I was in Cardiff with my brother having a looksie around the various guitar shops one fine Saturday morning. We were walking down St Mary Street when we saw some chav'd up tracky guy slip in a pile of vomit from the previous night and land on his side right in the middle of it.

We couldn't help but piss ourselves laughing watching the guy get up and look down at his soiled clothes with a 'WTF just happened' look on his face. Good Times.
(mattlacey, Fri 18 Dec 2009, 7:46, 1 reply)

Took my son
who was about 12 at the time to the park. He proceeded to show me his skill on his new roller blades.
Unfortunately the prat couldn't stop and fell headfirst into the boating lake. Pissing my self with laughter I tried to help him up but of course it's realy hard to stand on skates in the water in mud.
So he fell over backwards and started to sink.
I did manage to help him out, but I was unable to ask if he was alright because I collapsed on the floor laughing.
At the same time the girl guides were having some kind of meet in the park and he was beseiged with guides asking if he was alright.
It was probably his best chance of pulling for some years to come and he just sat there shivering with cold saying "I'm okay".
Still I did buy him a drink of fanta on the way home, which he still appreciates to this day.
(Captain Spacker I lick windows, Fri 18 Dec 2009, 7:40, Reply)

Better than Television
Ah School Days!

When I was a young fellow another school visited for sports type activities. One of the visitors was a rather weedy, unfortunate looking chap and when one of the skotey 'bad' kids from our school called him 4 eyes, Speccie told him to fuck off. Threats followed etc.

((((((((((
))))))))) Wavey fast forward lines
((((((((((

A crowd gathers round to watch the tough boy pound the geeky kid. Tough boy talks smack. Skinny bloke waits. Tough boy rushes in and we watch in awe as the skinny kid steps forward and uncurls a brilliant uppercut. I swear the toughies feet left the ground and he soared in a graceful parabola to crash upon the ground.
He gets up
Repeat.

At this moment a kid from our school who used to get duffed up all the time slips through the crowd and serves up a wonderful kicking.

Revenge is a dish served cold. Rejoice little people
(schrodingers cat now you see me, or not, Fri 18 Dec 2009, 4:35, 2 replies)

Apologies for lack of a story as such
This QOTW reminds me a bit of failblog a bit...

www.youtube.com/watch?v=0zaB3kp9c7M

Also, Right Said Said frontman getting a hiding from a Russian homophobe

www.youtube.com/watch?v=au8rsNqoDhs
(PassTheKhat, Fri 18 Dec 2009, 4:17, 3 replies)

Body warmers
These are just coats with no arms and while they were a fashion must-have in the early 80's - and 11 year old me HAD to have one, they were useless at actually keeping you warm. Being a genius however, young prescottsflu would often tuck his arms inside the garment to keep warm.

We had returned from some boring shopping trip and my street was chock full of my mates playing frisby, BMX'ing or setting fire to a playground (ah more innocent times). I could not wait to get out the car and go hang out and be cool and all my mates were approaching to welcome me.

In fact, in my rush to escape from the back seat through the front passenger door, my leg got caught in the seatbelt and I started to fall. Now having zipped up my arms inside my body warmer, my spaccy attempts at breaking my fall were moot. Time slowed and I hit the tarmac face first.

The stinging gravel in my face wasn't the worst thing. Nor was the fact I had winded myself and so couldn't scream out or ask for help. No the worst thing was my parents, siblings and about 50 people in the street were rolling around pissing themselves as I look like a fitting Daniel Day Lewis/My left foot impersonator. And then of course I couldn't get up. So I am laying there like a grounded seal while 90% of the people I knew and trusted were trying not to release little wees, they were laughing that hard.

Good times.
(prescottsflu infected you at, Fri 18 Dec 2009, 4:15, Reply)

I've never really found humor in the pain of others...
...well, unless they were absolute cunts to begin with.

I was a racetrack groom when I was 19. Got the job even though I knew nothing about horses, really- but all you really need to know is that they shit a lot, and you get to clean it up and take care of their racing harnesses. That, and that the guys who train the horses (and are usually your boss) are generally arrogant little fuckheads. Mine was no exception.

So one day my boss tells me to get one of my horses ready for training. This means that the horse will be doing basically a dry run for the race, rather than just a jog. No problem, I get her ready and he takes her out for her training.

When a horse has just done a training run, it's standard to give them a bran mash instead of just the usual grain feed. This means that you add a load of bran to it and add warm water until you get something resembling oatmeal. So I make this for my horse, only I add too much water so that it comes out soupy. The boss comments on this, and I ask how it could possibly do any harm. He snorts, makes a comment to the effect that I was a stupid college kid and walks off. I shrug and go back to what I was doing.

Next morning he wants to take that horse out for her jog, so I hook her up to the jog cart and send them off while I go take care of another horse. All is nice and quiet as I work...

What I didn't know, and obviously neither did he, was that the extra water in the bran mash acts like a laxative on the horse. I might as well have fed her a pound of Ex-Lax. Which is a vital piece of information when you're out exercising a horse by sitting in a cart with your feet on either side of the horse's arse and her tail directly in front of your face.

When the peaceful morning was shattered by my boss's voice screaming my name, when I came out and saw him with reeking green horse shit plastered all over his face, and when I had to hold onto a post to keep from falling over with uncontrollable laughter, I knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that it was over. And sure enough, about two days later I was unemployed.

But goddam, it was worth it. More than twenty years later it still brings a warm glow to my evil heart.

(Yes, I know, I've posted this story before- but it fits well here.)
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Fri 18 Dec 2009, 3:20, 3 replies)

The notorious 10 A bus in Liverpool.
This bus was especially scary at nights as the drunken trouble-makers on the bus would usually try and punch as many innocent people as possible as they left for their stop.

But nothing beats the time one of the chavs tried to take a punch at a guy with dreadlocks and missed and punched the metal bar and quite possibly broke his wrist.

The look on his face as the whole bus laughed at him was priceless.
(mr-lizard Hell's teeth man!, Fri 18 Dec 2009, 2:55, Reply)

Not laugh, more profit
My girlfriend has this mate who, while tidying up one day, found her husbands' secret diary detailing the regular visits to prostitutes he'd made over the past 15 years. He's ranked them and everything! She worked out that in the past 2 years alone, he spent $30,000 on whore. No wonder the struggling family business was still struggling...

So, husband quickly became ex. My girlfriend invited us to her place with dinner, to cheer her up, and demonstrate that not all men are manipulative assholes. I accomplished this by assuring the poor woman that no, not all men are stupid enough to leave detailed evidence.

She was still in the process of cleaning his stuff out (ie, burning it in a pile) when I noticed a partially built dirtbike in the heap she was about to douse in petrol. You're not going to burn *that*, I said. Take it away, she replies.

So I do :) Someone had thier whole life ruined by one silly bloke's inability to keep his indiscretions either to a minimum, or his mouth shut,

but on the other hand, dirtbike! Woo!
(pizzaforcat ate some cement and HARDENED the FUCK UP on, Fri 18 Dec 2009, 2:45, 2 replies)

Edinburgh, some years ago
I was outside a pub (The Festival Tavern), stook with two friends. It was the summer, the weather was good and people were sitting outside enjoying cold beer. As we were chatting a group appear across the road, rounding the corner. They are shouting across to their mates (the ones sat outside), the lead guys shouts something along the lines of "guess what we jus...." at which point he face plants. Much laughter from the group was had. NO ONE rushed to his aid, in fact i am pretty sure the guys he was crossing the road with walked past him. He swore a bit and eventually got up.

What made it funnier still for me. There was an A-frame outside the pub, which meant that when he hit the deck he disappeared from view. And stayed out of view for several minutes. It was weird to look up and see a guy saying something one sec and then gone the next.

I think it might have been funnier at the time....

StyX
(StyX is staring at you, yes YOU!!!, Fri 18 Dec 2009, 2:17, Reply)

Damn it. 3 in a row.
Just the other day my supervisor and a few of us were stripping a pallet of stock down to be worked. She reached up for a box, not realising there was something else on top of it, and lifted.
A case of Glade air freshner (vanilla) slipped down and hit her square in the face.
We stiffled our laughter as she pitched a hissy fit and threw the case on the floor, breaking it open and a few of the lids too.

I waited a decent amount of time then said, totally deadpan...

*sniff* "What a nice smell your face has tonight Alison."

The girls started pissing themselves laughing and, credit due, Alison laughed and told me jokingly to fuck off or she would go home. At least she cheered up.
( Maffers I flow kinda strange like Spina Bifida footprints, Fri 18 Dec 2009, 1:56, Reply)

From my post below.
There was also the time, walking back from said swimming pool, the Natasha walked face first into a lampost right outside the school. Christ we laughed at that.

Until she started crying of course.
( Maffers I flow kinda strange like Spina Bifida footprints, Fri 18 Dec 2009, 1:52, Reply)