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This is a question Shame

Some people get off on the exhibitionism, but this was pure lust. I'm not proud, but I did once have sex on Portsmouth beach at 2am in the fog. I got a nasty cold, shingle _everywhere_ and have never, ever gone back to Portsmouth. The shame.

There are things you boast about, and then there's Portsmouth beach... what are you ashamed of having done?

(, Thu 24 Nov 2005, 17:16)
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This question is now closed.

Not really a funny one, so 'pologies
I reckon theres something wrong with my humanity. Something seriously wrong.

1) Princess Di died. Felt nothing, complained to parents that the children's TV wasnt on.
2) Jill Dando died. Despite watching her on Holiday for ages, felt nothing.
3) Queen Mother. Same.

Fair enough, you might think - Im not one for celebrity anyway. But...

4) 9/11. Heard about the attack while on the bus on the way home, my first thought being something along the lines of "Ooh, somethings happened thats like a movie!"

5) Went to Auschwitz. Yes, the concentration camp. Felt absolutely nothing for any of the victims, except for slight nausea at a room of human hair. Actually thought the place was beautiful under the 2ft of snow that had fallen, and took hundreds of pictures while many didnt take a single one as a mark of respect. Then lied when I was asked about how Id felt. I even took photos in the gas chamber for gods sake. And I still have no problems whatsoever talking about it.

I would just like to add here that I am NOT a Nazi, and hate them with every bone in my body. Thats one thing that I do actually feel strongly about. I guess I find macabre and horrifying things interesting rather than, well, horrifying. I really do feel ashamed that I lack emotion on many of these things, but there seems nothing I can do about it and frankly, Id rather not get emotionally involved anyway.

I should go into forensics. Or become a serial killer.
(, Thu 24 Nov 2005, 20:33, Reply)
The pain...
Regress one year. I'm about 8 years old, and still mastering the techniques or urinating at a urinal.

I didn't miss the urinal. Oh no; every drop went in. Impressive, considering that I was late for lessons.

However, the tardiness of my lesson attendance led to retardedness of subsequent action. I pulled up my lovely tight fly without putting Jimmy away properly, and got my forskin stuck. Yay.

Back when I was that age, most of the teachers were female. I went to the form teacher, who insisted on having a look before declaring that there was nothing she could do. So we went to another female teacher, who found some magic lubricating cream or something, which she proceeded to rub into the tip of my very painful boyhood. All fairness, she got it out with a minimum of pain.

The most shame, however, came when I had to go to the nurse, who insisted that it was school policy that parents be told of such occurrences. So, home I toddled, clutching a note for my dear mother reading something like:

MEDICAL INCIDENT FORM

PUPIL: SAM X

INCIDENT: PENIS CAUGHT IN FLY

I've never been the same since.
(, Thu 24 Nov 2005, 20:29, Reply)
apart from accidentally farting loudly in public places,
I struggle to think of anything else...

*is ashamed*
(, Thu 24 Nov 2005, 20:22, Reply)
Letting rip - royally.
Skip a couple of years - I'm now 9 years old. I can feel a fart coming, so I decide to let it go quietly. Being young and inexperienced in such matters, I lost control and let rip very loudly (and by the law of Sod, it had to be in a quiet moment in the class). The whole class laughed and I, for want of a better option, joined in.

The teacher's reaction, though, was classic. Either she felt a need to bring the class under control, or thought that they were being too harsh to me (though I didn't give a damn).

'Quiet everyone,' quoth she, 'calm down, it's no big deal; even the Queen does that sometimes.'

If she was trying to calm the class down, she failed.
(, Thu 24 Nov 2005, 20:20, Reply)
Let's play opposites...
Back when I was 7 or some ridiculously young age, we learnt about 'diseases' in school. I was fascinated to learn that the brown sludgy poo I sometimes got was called 'diarrhoea' and was a disease. I was even more chuffed that I could spell it.

A few days later in class, we were on a similar topic. Teacher asks for examples. Full of pride, I completely skip the prep school protocol of putting one's hand up, and blurt out 'diarrhoea' very loudly.

'Very good, Sam', replies the teacher, 'but I asked for examples of medicines.'

I wanted to be swallowed into the floor.
(, Thu 24 Nov 2005, 20:16, Reply)
Working as a photographer for a press agency
I had to go with the reporter to get pictures of the sister of a suspected kiddy fiddler who had been beaten to death in Rochdale. I realised it was not the job for me while sitting on her sofa at 1130 at night while the reporter asked awful questions about her brother whose corpse was still warm.
I was under orders to get all the pictures of him that she had so no-one else could get them from her.
I don't know if she got them back as I left that job the day after.
The whole thing sickens me still.
(, Thu 24 Nov 2005, 20:11, Reply)
Hi
My real name is Mark Clare and I am MD of Birtish Gas. I get people to pay me every month to provide them with heat. When it doesnt work I get my engineers to make appointments that they dont turn up for. If they do turn up I get them to make a shoddy repair that lasts barely a day, leaving my paying customer without heat for weeks on end.
Every night i go home to my large mansion, sit by the roaring fire my butler has lit and smile a wry smile while thinking about all those cold, poor suckers that pay my wages.

Then i put on womens tights smear myself with peanut butter (crunchy) and allow my pet lemur to lick me clean.Its a shame I dont earn more for this.
(, Thu 24 Nov 2005, 20:02, Reply)
Once in a posh restaurant...
I developed an overwhelming desire to fart. I genuinely thought it was going to be silent, so I gave it the little push as required. It wasn't silent. The restaurant was. As if this wasn't bad enough, I had the quick-wit to shout 'Ah Dad, that's disgusting'.

There's a fine line between shame and pride.
(, Thu 24 Nov 2005, 19:50, Reply)
Stealing from the mentally unstable
Like Chopper3 below, a group of friends and I went and had a rampage of kinds during a school holiday. The more we got away with the cockier we felt.
On one of the quieter nights we decided to stalk the local mental home, seeing what trouble we could cause and who would be easiest to harrass. After a quick wander around we discovered that the carers kept their stock of refreshments OUTSIDE the kitchen door.

Lager, 2 litre bottles of coke, chocolate bars. Boxes of the stuff. For an entire week we pilfered their entire stock. We took everything.
We would take as much we could carry to a nearby house. The house was a very poor shed conversion and it was oh so easy to get on the roof. From this roof we drank and ate as much as we could before having to head home.

Stumbling in at 9.30 drunk, my parents were never the kind to ask questions. They were cool in that way.
Still, I do regret stealing all that stuff. I can't help but cringe at the thought of little retarded Ricky freaking out because he didn't get his weekly chocolate bar, hitting a carer and pissing all over his bed.
Then the carer going out back to have a nice cold lager, to find the entire goddam stock missing.
(, Thu 24 Nov 2005, 19:40, Reply)
When I was about 13 during the space of one half-term holiday some friends and I;
1. chased a labrador off a very high cliff,
2. burned down a chinaman's shed,
3. knocked a much younger girl unconscious in a wood with a log,
4. put a hamster in a microwave (only for about 5 seconds but it died a few weeks later)
5. pushed a cow out of a field and down the road into a busy road nearly causing an accident
(, Thu 24 Nov 2005, 19:26, Reply)
It involved public transport, an obliging lady.....
and i'm saying no more.
(, Thu 24 Nov 2005, 19:17, Reply)
Dead Father
One day in high school, my photography teacher was having a bad day, as her father had just died. Not knowing this, I proceeded to pull one of my hilarious pranks by gluing a film canister upside down to the ceiling with a sign on a string dangling down which read, rather conspicuously, "pull me."

She did, and immediately received a lovely shower of glitter and photo chemicals. Stank for weeks.
(, Thu 24 Nov 2005, 19:03, Reply)
I'm so ashamed......
of my addiction to the b3ta qotw
(, Thu 24 Nov 2005, 18:58, Reply)
Too many people know me, but WTF...
My best mate was in the same room as me once when I was doing the business with the now better-half. I honest to God thought he was asleep and would be none the wiser. Every now and again he reminds me of his vision of my arse gleaming in the moonlight. In my defence, I was *very* drunk and it was the Millennium. I feel guilty as I had berated him mercilessly for doing the same thing to me just a few weeks previously.

Now that I think about it, believing he was asleep makes it seem even worse somewhow.

I killed a caterpiller when I was four when I kept it as a "pet" in a jar. I was scared of it a little, so never fed it.

I did the same a couple of years later with stick insects. Those things are evil. I still feel bad about both of those.


And the most important one:

I helped to kick off all that hoo-hah about the Scottish notes on this board. It was all just a big misunderstanding, it really was.
(, Thu 24 Nov 2005, 18:55, Reply)
I was on Blind Date.
Yup, no shit, i was the picker too.

Won 3 nights in France with some sorefaced bint.

The shame is ever-present, especially when my mate punctuates every conversation i have with chicks when i'm out with, "d'you know Danny was on Blind Date."

Wanker! (me not him.)
(, Thu 24 Nov 2005, 18:35, Reply)
Poor Rover
There used to be this stray dog on our estate as kids that would follow us around being a right pain in the arse, the dirty fleabag, begging for food and just refusing to fuck off - no amount of sticks, stones or kicks in the bollocks could dissuade it.

Particularly galling was that if we did anything naughty and ran off to hide, the bastard would follow us wagging its deformed curly tail and just bloody stand there right by whatever we were trying to hide behind.

One day we decided to exact revenge. So we led the dog down to a local high rise block of flats, and kept it occupied by the lifts. Meanwhile my mate Marc went to find a friendly cat that didn't mind being picked up, and hid round the corner.

We led the dog into the lift, pressed the button for the top floor and stepped out. Just as the doors started to close, Marc appeared round the corner - and flung the cat in after the dog at the last possible moment.

The noise that came out of that lift as it went up to the top floor sounded like the screams of some kind of banshee from hell itself.

We never saw that poor dog again.

No matter what possible outcome to that lift journey I try to envisage I struggle to find one that enhances my sense of self esteem.
.
(, Thu 24 Nov 2005, 18:20, Reply)
Deathknock
My shames have to do with working for Sunday tabloids, something I no longer do because I have a conscience.

I was once asked to doorstep an academic because he was a pre-op transsexual. Trust me: this was not going to be a touchy-feely, beard-tugging Guardianista effort about respecting other lifestyle choices. After many hours hanging about I deliberately fecked up the story because intruding on this person's life made me feel nasty.

I interviewed a crying mother by the grave of her son.

Then there was the time I did a very difficult "deathknock" (doostepping the relatives of someone who has died) of the family of a bus driver killed by his own bus. The son, a very very upset kid, went from threatening to whack me to giving me the only picture he had of his Dad. I swore I'd send it back to him.

The stupid cnuts in the mailroom only went and lost it - the only pic this poor kid had of his dad.

I'm feeling sick with guilt even as I type this.
(, Thu 24 Nov 2005, 18:14, Reply)
I just gave a manky old laptop to a charity shop...
...and it sold immediately.

Now I remember that I forgot to wipe all the porn off of it.
(, Thu 24 Nov 2005, 18:05, Reply)
Having a wank
And then mum shouting to me (whilst i was in the bathroom alone, she wasnt with me!) on the vingear strokes............



..Cue mental image of mother as the pods of love empty themselves.

I couldnt look her in the eye for a good few days after that.
(, Thu 24 Nov 2005, 18:00, Reply)
i was young.
I bought "Final Countdown" by Europe. I even played it a few times.
(, Thu 24 Nov 2005, 17:58, Reply)
I once
did something terrible and blamed it on my younger brother. I soon got tangled in a web of lies and deceit that spiralled out of control, bringing me down into a near suicidal depression. The only way out was to tell the truth. And tell I did. Crying like a five year old. My punishment? I was laughed at in the face.

i was actually only five though and the terrible thing was cutting a chunk out of my awful fringe, but hey, there you go
(, Thu 24 Nov 2005, 17:50, Reply)
Arinsal, Andorra
Hotel Solana - few years ago
The Pool
2pm

Guess what I was doing?

Bloody freezing tho, and put off when a family walked in but hey.

Apologies for short length - see earlier comment about cold.
(, Thu 24 Nov 2005, 17:45, Reply)
I don't feel shame
I'm a sadist by nature.

This is probably why I rarely get any.
(, Thu 24 Nov 2005, 17:44, Reply)
Liege, Belgium
The missus hadn't seen each other for two weeks, so were quite pleased to see each other. We managed in a shop doorway and in a toilet in a bar. We also attempted on an escalator in a department store. This was only possible because the escalator went up two floors and the missus was wearing a long 'flowing' skirt. Pretty sure it was the fault of the Stella, do worry that there's a CCTV video of drunkards coupling on escalator.
(, Thu 24 Nov 2005, 17:43, Reply)
I licked the powdered sugar from a cake
and then for some inexplicable reason replaced it with salt. To this day I don't know why I didn't check the packet the salt was in. I was caught of course, and then forced to explain why I licked all the sugar from a cake. And then I had to eat a slice.

Woo, second!
(, Thu 24 Nov 2005, 17:43, Reply)

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