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This is a question Tactless

As grandmasterfluffles puts it, "My ex once told me, "That's the best sex I've ever had... Well, apart from with my cousin..."
What's the most tactless thing you've heard? And was it you saying it?

(, Thu 3 Nov 2011, 22:40)
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Deliberate Tactlessnessness
So. Some people have a 'mad' mate. As in "Oooh, you should meet my mate. He's MAD, he is! Totally random!" Ok, yes, well done.
My friend Rob, however, is properly certifiably mental, properly unhinged, as well as being a true eccentric (with all the trimming's, including being a border-line alcoholic.

So, he's out one night - fairly blattered on whatever he's been drinking (cider) and whatever massive drugs he was on that night (acid) and he stumbles across this woman rolling around, off her face, in the gutter.
(She's probably in her late 30s / early 40s. I met her once, she tried chatting me up in a nightclub, but that was years before this happened.)

That aside, this quite large woman is thrashing around in a quagmire of her own debaucherous lack of motor control, clearly not having a very good time of her inebriated predicament.
'Poor little sausage,' Rob thinks, 'best she come home with me where I can look after her', and, after asking if she's OK, helps her (not inconsiderable bulk) up, and along to his flat.

So, after a fair struggle along the road with a fairly hefty dead weight, they eventually get back to his flat, where, once she's sat down, starts getting very animated.

"Bleurgh," says Rob, "well, you seem to have woken up, and I'm knackered after dragging you back - fancy a drink?"
"Oooh yes," says this woman - and gets stuck in to the black absinthe like there's no tomorrow, drinking it like water.
Downing it to such an extent, that Rob has to take the bottle away from her, as she's chugging it down like it's the last day of her life.

After several glugs, all that lovely absinthe takes it's toll, and gets her feeling sleepy. She passes out on the sofa, and Rob, happy in the knowledge that this woman isn't going to pass out in the streets open to the elements and 'late night' humanity, goes to bed after a few more ciders . . .

. . .and wakes up in the morning with an obvious hangover, unlike the woman in question, who is lying dead on his sofa.

As you can probably imagine, Rob is slightly upset by this turn of events.

He's pretty hungover and on a mild acid comedown.
All things considered, not really the best way to start the day, when all he wanted was a croissant on the veranda.

Well, he goes through the standard panic / denial / bargaining / realisation chain of consciousness, and calls the police, who arrest him - and take away his clothes (including his only pair of shoes).
Rob calls me and some other friends up the next day - gets us all round to the pub and tells us all what's happened. As you can guess, we're all slightly amazed and shocked.
As you would be.
But not as shocked and obviously upset as Rob is.
As you would be.
And as I said, Rob's quite unhinged anyway, and he was taking this very badly.
So we did the only think we could to get him out of it and cheer him up.

We took the piss.

Totally and relentlessly.

We ripped the shit out of the situation so much, he had no choice but to see the funny side.

Examples include, but are not limited to:

Rob: "Fancy another pint?"
Me: "Yeah sure. But then again I didn't wake up to a corpse on my sofa"

Me: "You ok mate? You look like you feel a little stiff. But hopefully not a great big fat one, you dirty necrophillic cunt!"

Getting back to his flat later in the afternoon, I made a cocktail using orange juice, and the black absinthe in question.
As it was poured in after the ice had been added, the absinthe stayed on top of the orange, making a black layered 'lid' on the orange body.
Rob: "This drink looks great! It needs to be christened!"
Me: "Lets call it: The Floating Sofa Corpse!"

Going into the living room, round his: "I'm not going to sit in any corpse juice, am I?"

And my personal favourite:
Dave (walking through town with us, shouting at passersby, pointing at Rob): "Whatever happens, don't ever accept an invite back to this guy's house! He'll fucking kill ya!"

Thing is, it worked.

All this piss taking snapped him out of it.

I may not be a psychologist, but I'm damn good at taking the piss and being a sarcastic wanker though. And isn't that what mates are for?
(, Fri 4 Nov 2011, 18:06, 8 replies)
I wish i had the balls.
It just might work.
(, Sat 5 Nov 2011, 1:21, closed)
why'd they take his clothes?

(, Sat 5 Nov 2011, 15:42, closed)
I really don't know.
I'll ask him, hang on . . .
(, Sun 6 Nov 2011, 14:58, closed)
"Because they're twats" was the answer I got.
Fair enough...
(, Tue 8 Nov 2011, 21:10, closed)
Can I assume...
...that Rob's surname is Manuel?
(, Sun 6 Nov 2011, 11:00, closed)
Ha ha, no.
But I'm not telling you what it is!
(, Sun 6 Nov 2011, 14:59, closed)
I really want this to be true.

(, Sun 6 Nov 2011, 21:03, closed)
The gist is true.
I don't know the actual fine details, this was a few years back, it's obviously second hand info, and it's my take on the whole event. But apart from all THOSE elements of fictitious licencing, it's still mainly true.
(, Tue 8 Nov 2011, 21:45, closed)

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