Sorry
With Tesco taking out full page adverts to say sorry for selling us ponyburgers, now is the time for us all to say Sorry.
Write a letter of apology to someone who deserves it.
props to Monty_Boyce
( , Thu 17 Jan 2013, 14:50)
With Tesco taking out full page adverts to say sorry for selling us ponyburgers, now is the time for us all to say Sorry.
Write a letter of apology to someone who deserves it.
props to Monty_Boyce
( , Thu 17 Jan 2013, 14:50)
This question is now closed.
I knew a Chinese guy called "Hull" who was unfortunate enough to live in a town in the West Midlands.
Soli, Hull
( , Mon 21 Jan 2013, 16:24, 3 replies)
Soli, Hull
( , Mon 21 Jan 2013, 16:24, 3 replies)
I'm sort of sorry...
To Gay John and Ugly The Cunt, I didn't know those nicknames would stay with you for almost ten years. If I did, nothing would have changed. I thought it would be funny to give you both offensive nicknames and, in my defense, everyone laughed and decided to also call you by those names.
To Titchy Liam, I'm not sorry at all. You're about 3 feet tall and it's hardly offensive is it? Get over it you miserable sod.
To Shit Kev, you are shit. Hence the name. Want people to stop calling you that? Well stop being shit.
To Pizza Slut, I never gave you that name, I only helped make it popular and to be fair you do get around more than the Beach Boys.
I take it I'm now forgiven for being childish and calling people silly/rude names?
( , Mon 21 Jan 2013, 14:54, 10 replies)
To Gay John and Ugly The Cunt, I didn't know those nicknames would stay with you for almost ten years. If I did, nothing would have changed. I thought it would be funny to give you both offensive nicknames and, in my defense, everyone laughed and decided to also call you by those names.
To Titchy Liam, I'm not sorry at all. You're about 3 feet tall and it's hardly offensive is it? Get over it you miserable sod.
To Shit Kev, you are shit. Hence the name. Want people to stop calling you that? Well stop being shit.
To Pizza Slut, I never gave you that name, I only helped make it popular and to be fair you do get around more than the Beach Boys.
I take it I'm now forgiven for being childish and calling people silly/rude names?
( , Mon 21 Jan 2013, 14:54, 10 replies)
I'm going to have to apologise..
..I can't find any way of working sh*ds into a laboured pun on the word 'sorry'.
( , Mon 21 Jan 2013, 14:54, 2 replies)
..I can't find any way of working sh*ds into a laboured pun on the word 'sorry'.
( , Mon 21 Jan 2013, 14:54, 2 replies)
My dad is a master of using or expressing dry, esp. mocking, humor.
So wry.
( , Mon 21 Jan 2013, 14:45, 5 replies)
So wry.
( , Mon 21 Jan 2013, 14:45, 5 replies)
How my auntie from Yorkshire introduces her husband Raymond.
'S'our Ray'.
( , Mon 21 Jan 2013, 14:33, 1 reply)
'S'our Ray'.
( , Mon 21 Jan 2013, 14:33, 1 reply)
My favourite scene in 'Reservoir Dogs' is that bit where 'Stuck In The Middle..' by Stealer's Wheel gets played.
Saw Ear.
( , Mon 21 Jan 2013, 14:26, Reply)
Saw Ear.
( , Mon 21 Jan 2013, 14:26, Reply)
I like that pro-democracy lady in Burma what was under house arrest for ages.
( , Mon 21 Jan 2013, 13:47, Reply)
( , Mon 21 Jan 2013, 13:47, Reply)
I'm have actually come full circle with QOTW,
and I'm NOT sorry for the trolls and strange bastards that inhabit this part of B3TA. The duelling and bickering is part of the fabric of this wonderful forum for admissions of bravado, guilt and sordid past deeds.
It's a tough gig, so make sure you are prepared for a serious flaming, and some very clever put-downs which should make you laugh, rather than take umbrage. The tangential brawls following a post between the usual fucking stupid usernames keep me very entertained. Keep it up, and go with the flow.
Keep QOTW alive. Change the channel if you don't like it.
( , Mon 21 Jan 2013, 13:25, 57 replies)
and I'm NOT sorry for the trolls and strange bastards that inhabit this part of B3TA. The duelling and bickering is part of the fabric of this wonderful forum for admissions of bravado, guilt and sordid past deeds.
It's a tough gig, so make sure you are prepared for a serious flaming, and some very clever put-downs which should make you laugh, rather than take umbrage. The tangential brawls following a post between the usual fucking stupid usernames keep me very entertained. Keep it up, and go with the flow.
Keep QOTW alive. Change the channel if you don't like it.
( , Mon 21 Jan 2013, 13:25, 57 replies)
When I was a vet
Someone brought in a flightless South American bird with very tender and sensitive muscles.
It was a sore rhea.
( , Mon 21 Jan 2013, 13:18, Reply)
Someone brought in a flightless South American bird with very tender and sensitive muscles.
It was a sore rhea.
( , Mon 21 Jan 2013, 13:18, Reply)
Sorry, to a past love,
Debby, when you offered your perfect puckered bum hole to me, in a moment of passion some 18 years ago, I declined, as I was pretty sure nice girls didn't truly like that sort of thing, and I was also perfectly content with the more traditional vaginal/oral options.
Some time later, we broke up, and from time to time it plays on my mind that we never consumated our brown love.
For that, I am truly sorry.
Really, really sorry.
Man. So sorry.
I was....a fool
( , Mon 21 Jan 2013, 12:52, 2 replies)
Debby, when you offered your perfect puckered bum hole to me, in a moment of passion some 18 years ago, I declined, as I was pretty sure nice girls didn't truly like that sort of thing, and I was also perfectly content with the more traditional vaginal/oral options.
Some time later, we broke up, and from time to time it plays on my mind that we never consumated our brown love.
For that, I am truly sorry.
Really, really sorry.
Man. So sorry.
I was....a fool
( , Mon 21 Jan 2013, 12:52, 2 replies)
Making sure the classics stay fresh and contemporary
Regrets? I've had a few,
But then again, too few to mention.
YOLO SWAG KTHXBAI.
( , Mon 21 Jan 2013, 11:44, 5 replies)
Regrets? I've had a few,
But then again, too few to mention.
YOLO SWAG KTHXBAI.
( , Mon 21 Jan 2013, 11:44, 5 replies)
I'm sorry for allowing everyone to show just how petty, vindictive and moronic they can be.
Yours, Mark Zuckerberg
( , Mon 21 Jan 2013, 11:18, 3 replies)
Yours, Mark Zuckerberg
( , Mon 21 Jan 2013, 11:18, 3 replies)
The hand of God.
Dear RBL Drinkers,
Remember the time during the 1986 World Cup quarter finals, the England v. Argentina game? Remember trying to watch it in the back bar at the local Royal British Legion?
You do? Well, in that case, I'm sorry that you missed the 'Hand of God' moment. I'm also sorry that the volume was inexplicably high at random moments and that you all had the TV remote taken from you because "you can't be trusted with it".
I'm fairly certain that you're all sorry that you trusted my father to buy the TV for that bar (as at the time, he was the treasurer of the club), and that he'd bought two identical TVs at the time, and that, of course, we had an identical remote control for it.
I'm sorry that we crept around to the back window with the remote from my house and randomly changed the channels and volume during that game.
In our defence, how could we foresee that it was to be a game that would go down in the annuls of history?
Yours,
13 year old dchurch and his mate from school.
( , Mon 21 Jan 2013, 10:45, 3 replies)
Dear RBL Drinkers,
Remember the time during the 1986 World Cup quarter finals, the England v. Argentina game? Remember trying to watch it in the back bar at the local Royal British Legion?
You do? Well, in that case, I'm sorry that you missed the 'Hand of God' moment. I'm also sorry that the volume was inexplicably high at random moments and that you all had the TV remote taken from you because "you can't be trusted with it".
I'm fairly certain that you're all sorry that you trusted my father to buy the TV for that bar (as at the time, he was the treasurer of the club), and that he'd bought two identical TVs at the time, and that, of course, we had an identical remote control for it.
I'm sorry that we crept around to the back window with the remote from my house and randomly changed the channels and volume during that game.
In our defence, how could we foresee that it was to be a game that would go down in the annuls of history?
Yours,
13 year old dchurch and his mate from school.
( , Mon 21 Jan 2013, 10:45, 3 replies)
Dear objects in my basement,
I'm sorry - this might sting a bit.
Sincerely,
A Vagabond.
( , Mon 21 Jan 2013, 10:26, Reply)
I'm sorry - this might sting a bit.
Sincerely,
A Vagabond.
( , Mon 21 Jan 2013, 10:26, Reply)
For 10 years of mediocrity
I am truly sorry
am I fuck you bunch of cunts ;o)
( , Mon 21 Jan 2013, 9:32, Reply)
I am truly sorry
am I fuck you bunch of cunts ;o)
( , Mon 21 Jan 2013, 9:32, Reply)
I'm really sorry that people seem to think that this page is 'whines' not 'questions'.
( , Mon 21 Jan 2013, 8:07, 16 replies)
( , Mon 21 Jan 2013, 8:07, 16 replies)
I don't think I'm the one who should apologise here.
Imagine if you will a small pub. It's a "local" pub but it's clientele come in all shapes, genders & sizes, from all walks of life and all corners of the globe.
One corner of the pub is reserved for those who like a good natter. It can get a bit repetitious and the humor is a mix of frat-boy and in-jokes but it's usually all in good fun. Another corner is set aside for those who like to share information with each other. They can be a lively bunch but mostly keep to themselves. In the 3rd corner we find those who can make funny moving pictures and draw spunking magenta cocks on other pics. Speaks for itself really. Funny shit to look at all day, everyday.
Finally we come to the story-tellers corner. This is a spot where the windbags do tend to gather. The landlord or a pub employee usually sets the topic (apparently thru some sort of democratic process) and the clients take turns telling their (sometimes true) tales based upon the topic.
When I first frequented this bar - mainly as purely a listener rather than a talker in the story corner, most of the story tellers would tell their tales and aside from some vigorous ribbing the audience would make their comments.
Things slowly started to change. It seemed as tho the most negative minded of the nattering mob, having got bored with the tautological banter where they were wanted something else, so many of them drifted over to the story-tellers corner.
This was also around the time that I became more of a teller than a listener. It also seems to be when some of the pubs problems started.[Maybe there is some correlation there - good-onya for spotting it!]
As story tellers told their tales they were often shouted down by the natterers or abused out-rightly as the natterers then took over the tales with their in jokes. To the point that there were even jokes about outdoor structures that store garden tools.
Surely jokes about the landlord's proclivity to stick his digits inside children would be funnier than that? No?
I mean these guys really are like flies on shit.
These days you head down to the pub and as you walk in the front door you pretty much get called a cunt for ordering your drink.
There have been many more people apart from me who have made far more effort to basically spoil the experience for everyone else, aside from their little cadre of in-jokers (however they seem just as happy to turn on each other too!).
So I'd like to apologise for my part in making this a shit pub. Because I decided I was sick of hearing the the same old dribbly shit-giving from a bunch of people who rarely actually head down to the pub to tell a story and have a laugh at others' stories and instead head down to the pub to hang pointless shit on the people there to share a story.
How many of us would actually listen and talk to these people in RL if they behaved the way they do online?
( , Mon 21 Jan 2013, 5:09, 199 replies)
Imagine if you will a small pub. It's a "local" pub but it's clientele come in all shapes, genders & sizes, from all walks of life and all corners of the globe.
One corner of the pub is reserved for those who like a good natter. It can get a bit repetitious and the humor is a mix of frat-boy and in-jokes but it's usually all in good fun. Another corner is set aside for those who like to share information with each other. They can be a lively bunch but mostly keep to themselves. In the 3rd corner we find those who can make funny moving pictures and draw spunking magenta cocks on other pics. Speaks for itself really. Funny shit to look at all day, everyday.
Finally we come to the story-tellers corner. This is a spot where the windbags do tend to gather. The landlord or a pub employee usually sets the topic (apparently thru some sort of democratic process) and the clients take turns telling their (sometimes true) tales based upon the topic.
When I first frequented this bar - mainly as purely a listener rather than a talker in the story corner, most of the story tellers would tell their tales and aside from some vigorous ribbing the audience would make their comments.
Things slowly started to change. It seemed as tho the most negative minded of the nattering mob, having got bored with the tautological banter where they were wanted something else, so many of them drifted over to the story-tellers corner.
This was also around the time that I became more of a teller than a listener. It also seems to be when some of the pubs problems started.[Maybe there is some correlation there - good-onya for spotting it!]
As story tellers told their tales they were often shouted down by the natterers or abused out-rightly as the natterers then took over the tales with their in jokes. To the point that there were even jokes about outdoor structures that store garden tools.
Surely jokes about the landlord's proclivity to stick his digits inside children would be funnier than that? No?
I mean these guys really are like flies on shit.
These days you head down to the pub and as you walk in the front door you pretty much get called a cunt for ordering your drink.
There have been many more people apart from me who have made far more effort to basically spoil the experience for everyone else, aside from their little cadre of in-jokers (however they seem just as happy to turn on each other too!).
So I'd like to apologise for my part in making this a shit pub. Because I decided I was sick of hearing the the same old dribbly shit-giving from a bunch of people who rarely actually head down to the pub to tell a story and have a laugh at others' stories and instead head down to the pub to hang pointless shit on the people there to share a story.
How many of us would actually listen and talk to these people in RL if they behaved the way they do online?
( , Mon 21 Jan 2013, 5:09, 199 replies)
To the man that bought my old Mini
I sorry the clutch was just about impossible to engage without stuttering. I think the rivets were scraping on the flywheel. At the time I thought you were supposed to adjust the link when it slipped going up hills.
I'm not sorry I told you it was a double faced clutch and you would get used to it, because I needed the $300 more than you did.
( , Mon 21 Jan 2013, 3:26, Reply)
I sorry the clutch was just about impossible to engage without stuttering. I think the rivets were scraping on the flywheel. At the time I thought you were supposed to adjust the link when it slipped going up hills.
I'm not sorry I told you it was a double faced clutch and you would get used to it, because I needed the $300 more than you did.
( , Mon 21 Jan 2013, 3:26, Reply)
She stood out in the yard
and listened to the empty wind blowing across the barnyard as tears coursed down her cheeks. Not a living sound reached her ears, only the wind.
She knew it was all her fault. She had sent him away, and now she was alone. She regretted it to the depths of her being, wishing that she could speak to him one last time, to tell him how sorry she was. And even though she knew that he was gone for good, she couldn't help but call "Sooo-eee! Soo-soo-sooo-eee!"
The scent of the baking ham was the only reply.
( , Sun 20 Jan 2013, 20:40, Reply)
and listened to the empty wind blowing across the barnyard as tears coursed down her cheeks. Not a living sound reached her ears, only the wind.
She knew it was all her fault. She had sent him away, and now she was alone. She regretted it to the depths of her being, wishing that she could speak to him one last time, to tell him how sorry she was. And even though she knew that he was gone for good, she couldn't help but call "Sooo-eee! Soo-soo-sooo-eee!"
The scent of the baking ham was the only reply.
( , Sun 20 Jan 2013, 20:40, Reply)
Sorry,
It’s all that you can't say. Years gone by and still words don’t come easily like sorry, like sorry. Forgive me, is all that you can't say. Years gone by and still words don’t come easily like forgive me, forgive me.
But you can say, baby, baby can I hold you tonight? Maybe, if I told you the right words at the right time you’d be mine.
I love you is all that you can't say. Years gone by and still words don’t come easily like I love you, I love you..
( , Sun 20 Jan 2013, 20:27, Reply)
It’s all that you can't say. Years gone by and still words don’t come easily like sorry, like sorry. Forgive me, is all that you can't say. Years gone by and still words don’t come easily like forgive me, forgive me.
But you can say, baby, baby can I hold you tonight? Maybe, if I told you the right words at the right time you’d be mine.
I love you is all that you can't say. Years gone by and still words don’t come easily like I love you, I love you..
( , Sun 20 Jan 2013, 20:27, Reply)
Dear Kate
I feel I must explain. I was supposed to be meeting a promoter I had never met before, in the pub before the gig when you arrived early. I guess the reason I said what I said was your short hair, small breasts and gender neutral clothing. I guess I can't be held completely responsible but I am sorry that the band all burst out with laughter and caused you to run out of the pub when I innocently asked you if you were Geoff and you replied "No I'm Kate". They were laughing at me, not you, I promise.
( , Sun 20 Jan 2013, 18:30, Reply)
I feel I must explain. I was supposed to be meeting a promoter I had never met before, in the pub before the gig when you arrived early. I guess the reason I said what I said was your short hair, small breasts and gender neutral clothing. I guess I can't be held completely responsible but I am sorry that the band all burst out with laughter and caused you to run out of the pub when I innocently asked you if you were Geoff and you replied "No I'm Kate". They were laughing at me, not you, I promise.
( , Sun 20 Jan 2013, 18:30, Reply)
Dear b3ta,
I'm sorry that (yet again), I haven't got anything funny this week.
I remember when QotW used to make me literally hurt from trying not to laugh while I read it in the office.
This week, I've got a couple of things I regret saying to Jess before she died... this isn't the place for them, mos'def. And I've got a couple of things in my life that I feel really bad about, to do with people still living... but I've already spoken to them and sorted it, so I literally have nothing for you - again.
Yours,
Prof KM
tl;dr version - don't read this post
( , Sun 20 Jan 2013, 17:47, 3 replies)
I'm sorry that (yet again), I haven't got anything funny this week.
I remember when QotW used to make me literally hurt from trying not to laugh while I read it in the office.
This week, I've got a couple of things I regret saying to Jess before she died... this isn't the place for them, mos'def. And I've got a couple of things in my life that I feel really bad about, to do with people still living... but I've already spoken to them and sorted it, so I literally have nothing for you - again.
Yours,
Prof KM
tl;dr version - don't read this post
( , Sun 20 Jan 2013, 17:47, 3 replies)
What?
I met Sir Henry Cooper at Royal Ascot a few years ago and reminisced with him about the time he knocked down Cassius Clay with his 'ammer. He looked at me with confusion and not a little pity.
It turned out I was speaking to Clare Balding. I believe an apology is still outstanding. The old memory is not what it once was, probably.
( , Sun 20 Jan 2013, 16:37, 3 replies)
I met Sir Henry Cooper at Royal Ascot a few years ago and reminisced with him about the time he knocked down Cassius Clay with his 'ammer. He looked at me with confusion and not a little pity.
It turned out I was speaking to Clare Balding. I believe an apology is still outstanding. The old memory is not what it once was, probably.
( , Sun 20 Jan 2013, 16:37, 3 replies)
While working for a while as the sales manager of
(probably) the last CDR manufacturer in the UK (yes, this was a looong time ago), we were having a bit of a tough time in the final days, after the Taiwanese dumped about 3 billion CDRs on the UK market for less than it cost us to make them. We therefore took on a few extra jobs to pay the bills, one of which was putting a tranche of the latest U2 CD in jewel cases, with all the inserts, promo stickers and cellophane, and boxing them up for distribution. The whole factory got involved with this, as we had agreed to do it to a VERY tight deadline.
Not being very good at mindless tedium, I decided to amuse myself by casually autographing one or two of the discs, before they went into the cases. Nothing fancy, just things like "Enjoy! Bono", and "All the best, Bono".
So, I would like to humbly apologise to any excited little U2 fans (particularly if they are big, scary, violent, baseball-bat-wielding little U2 fans) who thought they had got their hands on something unique, personal and special, especially if they showed them off to their U2-loving friends, and especially especially if their friends were slightly skeptical about the idea of Bono standing in the CD production line with a magic marker, in a completely unpublicised publicity stunt, and therefore extracted the piss by the gallon. Sorry.
Also, apologies for length (slightly less than 119mm).
( , Sun 20 Jan 2013, 10:35, 6 replies)
(probably) the last CDR manufacturer in the UK (yes, this was a looong time ago), we were having a bit of a tough time in the final days, after the Taiwanese dumped about 3 billion CDRs on the UK market for less than it cost us to make them. We therefore took on a few extra jobs to pay the bills, one of which was putting a tranche of the latest U2 CD in jewel cases, with all the inserts, promo stickers and cellophane, and boxing them up for distribution. The whole factory got involved with this, as we had agreed to do it to a VERY tight deadline.
Not being very good at mindless tedium, I decided to amuse myself by casually autographing one or two of the discs, before they went into the cases. Nothing fancy, just things like "Enjoy! Bono", and "All the best, Bono".
So, I would like to humbly apologise to any excited little U2 fans (particularly if they are big, scary, violent, baseball-bat-wielding little U2 fans) who thought they had got their hands on something unique, personal and special, especially if they showed them off to their U2-loving friends, and especially especially if their friends were slightly skeptical about the idea of Bono standing in the CD production line with a magic marker, in a completely unpublicised publicity stunt, and therefore extracted the piss by the gallon. Sorry.
Also, apologies for length (slightly less than 119mm).
( , Sun 20 Jan 2013, 10:35, 6 replies)
This question is now closed.