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This is a question Well, that taught 'em

Sammi Evil Nice writes "I shared with two students, and it was always the same; whenever it was near to paytime, my milk *and only this* would disappear.

One of them, John, was a lovely bloke but allergic to nuts. John makes tea. Soon after, John starts swelling up.

ME: Runs, administers epi-pen. "You're going into anaphalactic shock."
HIM: "How do you know?"
ME: "I put almond oil in my milk."

What have you done to teach somebody a lesson?

(, Thu 26 Apr 2007, 14:54)
Pages: Latest, 14, 13, 12, 11, 10, ... 1

This question is now closed.

Maybe he's lying at home, battered and bruised with bell-end shaped bruises all over his body. :o/
(, Thu 3 May 2007, 15:31, Reply)
was thinking the same thing myself...

perhaps he as done something REALLY bad in the past and has decided to lay low.

The silence speaks volumes.

Only conjecture of course

(, Thu 3 May 2007, 15:29, Reply)
When will people learn that the only way that you know where you stand is if we were a military dictatorship?

Never mind a Labour win - shoot all the politicians and bring the military to power - you'd at least know where you stood.

Um, sorry.

There's a lesson there somewhere.....
(, Thu 3 May 2007, 15:29, Reply)
Well, la Swipe one can only hold out hope...

Ape's stories can be funny but his one liners cause more rage than a Labour election win.
(, Thu 3 May 2007, 15:25, Reply)
what the devil has happened to apeloverage?

has someone finally taught him the lesson that his own stories/comments/comebacks are very funny indeed but his puns and posturings make you want to swim over to australia and beat him to death with his own cock?
(, Thu 3 May 2007, 15:20, Reply)
every week.
every week we all go wildly off topic.
every week we suggest changing the qotw early, or having two per week.
every week nothing gets done.

We taught the Mods NOTHING!!!!
(, Thu 3 May 2007, 15:03, Reply)
I bought a jar of Whole Earth peanut butter the other day. The label says "Allergy Advice: May Contain Nuts"

Humans = stupid

I hope it does contain nuts!
(, Thu 3 May 2007, 14:53, Reply)
Hot coffee
I've got a burnt tongue/throat from this mornings large, strong coffee.

It says "Hot" on the lid.

I read it twice.

Then took a big swig.

I think Darwin has plans for me..........
(, Thu 3 May 2007, 14:51, Reply)
It SAYS 'wet paint'.
It LOOKS wet.
You just WATCHED them paint it an hour ago.



same goes for 'big red buttons' and 'dont look down'.
(, Thu 3 May 2007, 14:45, Reply)
Tea + laptop = Bad
A former colleague of mine used to keep his tea on his laptop - you know, below the keyboard and next to the buttons.

He used an external keyboard so that "was alright" and "don't worry, I won't spill it".

Goes without saying that there was a chargeable £700 hardware call about a week later.

Did he learn? Did he bollocks....

For the cost of 2 laptop repairs, we could have bought 2 laptops brand new.

He got a proper telling off for that one as did our entire team - I never did work that one out.

I'm still not convinced he's learnt but I do keep away from him when he's carrying tea around these days.....

Where's the usual Thursday Deterioration?
(, Thu 3 May 2007, 14:35, Reply)
Why is it that whenever you're told "careful, that plate's hot", your first instinct is to touch it?

And why don't we learn from that?
(, Thu 3 May 2007, 14:30, Reply)
Ice-creamy goodness, £3.89.
I like nice food. When in the supermarket I will buy nice food, so I can enjoy it later, it tastes better than the Value stuff, bar a few exceptions. One housemate I was sharing with also liked my nice food and would liberally help himself to it, which was fine, ocassionally. The housemate however, was quite a tall lad, and his capacity for devouring it far outstripped my budget for aquiring quality comestibles. This would extend to dishes that I had prepared for myself, for lunches or dinners the following days.

I mentioned this to him and he did apologise, and promised to get some shopping in, which after days of nagging, he did not. On the rare days I had seen him arrive home with shopping bags, they usually contained assorted Value goods and bizarrely, packet upon packet of the really shit jelly with the transparent wrapper, so had the goods been replaced, they would have been of a significantly lower quality. However, more time elapsed and the shop was not done.

On surveying the contents of his cupboards for replacement food, I found a stack of Value tuna, some Value tomato soup, some packets of Value jelly and half a packet of lentils, despite the fact he recently came into some money. (In the form of a ten grand claim and a promising, lucrative new career in drag.) Tight, selfish bastard, I thought. Even more so as I had the girlfriend over for the weekend and have nothing to make us for tea. So I trundle back to the supermarket to purchase more food.

I pick up supplies for myself and the girlfriend, and also a large tub of Ben and Jerrys Cookie Dough. We spend the evening eating ice-cream and watching TV and finish the tub, which we leave by the side of the sofa to retire to bed for a little while. After 'doing the romance', we surveying the post-sex debris scattered across my bedroom floor. There are four used condoms. We retrieve the now jizz-filled rubbers and put them in the Ben and Jerrys tub. We go to the freezer and find some Value ice-cream. I put some in the tub with the condoms, along with some milk, and mash it all up. I push the condoms to the bottom of the tub and put the tub in the freezer for a while. We go back to bed.

I find the housemate is looking in the freezer, mumbling "Oh, Ben and Jerrys" as I nip to the kitchen for a glass of water. "There's some left, help yourself" I reply as I retire to bed. I checked out the tub shortly after, he'd made a good start on it before he lost his appetite. Yeow!

That'll teach the greedy bastard.
(, Thu 3 May 2007, 13:59, Reply)
working in the pub last night!

Female Customer:but United won last week. So does that mean its a draw?

She is dead now!
(, Thu 3 May 2007, 12:58, Reply)
Pass the pepper
A friend of mine is a football coach, and one day in the pub was trying to teach a group of girls the offside rule. He patiently explained it over and over, but they just couldn't grasp it. Then he demonstrated it using condiments and empty glasses. That taught 'em.
(, Thu 3 May 2007, 12:54, Reply)
I wasn't there but have it on several authorites the following happened.

During the miners strike during the mid 80's in the UK the pickets at Bold Colliery biult a large 6+ ft snowman by the picket line.
The officer commanding the police "Superintendant Nasher" told the pickets in no uncertain terms that the snowman was blocking the footpath, therefore an obstruction, therefore illegal, and told them to get rid. The pickets, in turn, told him to go shaft himself.
"Right" says the Super "I'll f**king move it!" and with that jumps into his brand new Police Range Rover, slams it into reverse and rams the snowman.
The crunchy, smashing noise that resulted from hitting the snowman was because those naughty, naughty pickets had in fact built the snowman over a rather large Letter Box.
(, Thu 3 May 2007, 12:27, Reply)
Gas Leak...
at school one of my friends was been an arsebiscuit, so we locked him in a cupboard and he started throwing and smashing things in the dark.... few hours later everything smelt of gas...
oops, dunno what he did, but everyone got sent home early :D
(, Thu 3 May 2007, 11:58, Reply)
High voltage high jinks
Sorry another car related one…
Sometime last year I converted my little 205 GTi to run on a silly big engine form a Peugeot 405. Cue much more rapidity and generally annoying all those penarses with great big £40,000 sports cars keeping up with them in a “1.6” French tin shed on wheels. Bwahahahahaha.

Anyway shortly after I sorted it and got it running I was driving back from work and it started playing silly buggers. Quick look round the engine bay revealed nothing, luckily had a multimeter in the car (as all self-respecting old French car owners should of course) so went round checking everything electrical from the diagnostics manual.

About an hour later I couldn’t find the fault and it was still running lumpy. Last resort I thought check the HT leads… So engine running I decided to waggle the HT leads on the distributor. Left hand resting on the car, right hand waggling the HT lead. HT lead comes off, a twuntingly gert big fuck off electrical pulse has only one way to go to earth, via the shortest course of least resistance, namely my right arm, left arm and directly across my chest.

Cue me staggering back rather sharply and feeling a bit light headed and winded for about half an hour.

Kids, don’t play with HT leads when the engine is running, lesson well and truly learned.
(, Thu 3 May 2007, 11:46, Reply)
Women didn't love me
So I taught 'em
(, Thu 3 May 2007, 11:40, Reply)
Robert-Arthur Menard
They took this guys baby away from him. So he asked how is it possible for the state to do this

his research led him to uncovering a huge amount of 'legalease speak' the gov use to hoodwink us and the application/submission technique

he now lectures on how people don't need to licence (cars etc) and how people can pay back loans by claiming back money raised by the gov from their birth certificates (the stock they use for bank loans)

well worth watching


.... he's never paid tax for 7 years and counting, drives without a licence (but special bond insurance) all without the gov being able to touch him

as Albert Pike said 'men that do not use reason and submit without question deserve to be food for the table'

Irene Gravenhorst on a similiar theme: video.google.co.uk/videoplay?docid=-7678707764082656820&q=strawman
(, Thu 3 May 2007, 11:34, Reply)
that'll learn me.....
Well it certainly should have done, for I have a secret, I have a severe problem with rational behaviour whilst tipsy.

Picture the scene, phone call early afternoon stating that muchio beer shall be flowing, and all and sundry are to meet in the arcadian in Birmingham at 10pm friday night to have a few and then on to a house party with some of my mates very fit bar staff collegues.

Not one to disappoint, but living out of town means I rely on the lovely rural bus network. So I arrive a good 3 hours early.

No problem I think, I'll have a bit of a wander, and grab a few cold ones and wait it out.

Now, I'm not adverse to having a pint on my own waiting for a train or what not, reading the paper and generally keeping a relativley low profile comes naturally.

On my wanderings I decide one one establishment, then another and end up in a gay bar just off Hurst street... now this isn't a flambouyant joint, nothing could be further from the truth, it looks just like anyother old mans pub (think 2 pints of lager and a packet of crisps). So sat at the bar I order my drink.

Its now that I should have learnt the warning signs. In gay bars when men offer to buy you a pint its not a chummy affair to chat about football and bitch about women - I suppose I now truely feel what its like to be a woman.

But I still hadn't learnt my lesson, oh no... 4 pints later and nearly 10pm I get up to leave, when I'm pounced upon... the guy trys to snog me, did I learn my lesson... I think the beer and fag breath got quite close.

but thats not the whole story, for my real secret is that whilst drunk I am fully incapable of using a cash point to withdraw the ammount of money that I require... In this case probably about 30 quid... oh no... so with the saliva on my face still drying I waddle to a cashpoint, draw out 300 quid, and mosey on down to the meeting place.

now this is where I really should have learnt that, being incredibly tankered, with 300 quid in my pocket, smelling of drunk gay man spittal its probably best not to respond to drunk rants from chavs in a bar behind a curtain of man meat that's the average Birmingham bouncer.

but oh no... I'm invincible...

Soo I should really have learnt my lesson when I get my teeshirt ripped off my back, loose my wallet, smash the back off my phone, and realise I have no idea where all my mates are.

So did I learn my lesson whilst trying to get the 15 miles home... moneyless, phone cakedness, and teeshirtless...

did I buggery - that'll learn my parents to use protection.

length wasn't nessecesary - I certainly wasn't going to take it...
(, Thu 3 May 2007, 11:33, Reply)
A few years ago, I was getting pissed dahn the pub when a friend turned to me and said:

"Can you swim?"

"Er... if someone throws me off a boat I can."

"Do you wanna go in the Lorne Pier-to-Pub? Me and a friend are going to stay in a guesthouse, it'll be fun."

For those of you who can't be fucked looking it up, the Lorne Pier-to-Pub is a 1200m open-ocean swim. Its website contains very helpful hints about how one should prepare for entering such a gruelling competition, especially for lardarses such as myself who have diligently avoided physical activity of any sort since high school. Amongst other things, it suggests that you:

"Use a wetsuit"

"Practice swimming in the ocean"

"Swimmers should bear in mind that most training is done in still water heated pools. Pool water is 10 C degrees warmer than the ocean and is not exposed. Do not underestimate the impact of these conditions."

Guess what I didn't do?

What I *did* do was end up under a pretty silver foil shock blanket with a peg attached to my finger and skin that was a royal shade of blue.

That'll learn me!

(I finished the race, though, and with my new-found lung capacity proceeded to treat myself to a soft pack of Stuyvos. Yay me!)
(, Thu 3 May 2007, 11:27, Reply)
I had to do an experiement at school where I held pieces of various metals (aluminium, lead, steel etc) in the flame of a bunsen and waited to see how quickly I felt the heat in my fingers. This taught me conductivity. Now, I know that if I put my frozen prawns in my cast iron grill pan and place them on the iron hob, they will defrost quicker than in a thin stainless pan. So that lesson taight me a lot.
(, Thu 3 May 2007, 11:26, Reply)
Ok, A little off-topic, but I don't normally drink coffee.

Certainly not triple espresso strength coffee.

And not before a client meeting in 10 minutes.

I've got the caffiene shakes properly and I can't focus, type or string together a sentence......

There's a lesson there - and I should have learnt it by now (I've done this before ha ha)
(, Thu 3 May 2007, 10:52, Reply)
And her name was....
Nicola Allen.

There may be many in the world, and I'd hate to label the others as bitches... so *this* one used to live in Newbury UK.

She gets a mention here last week.. b3ta.com/questions/wehavetotalk/post77158/ However her true caustic personality fails to shine. Ogwen - being the absolute star that he is - wears soft gloves while writing about her.

The guy with whom she was exiled Also has a name. David Wadsworth. Now.. you may know a David Wadsworth... If he's an utter ass and looks like this.. b3ta.com/questions/virginity/post25292/ Then it's probably the one I'm talking about. I rather hope that somewhere one of his colleagues finds this and posts his picture on a notice board.

Ogwen and Nicola were about to get married.. but she'd been shagging one of his "mates" for a fair time. This he covered in his story... He didn't cover the aftermath.

Small things: Nicola was moving out. She "needed the fridge and sofas" .. fair play, Ogwen wanted rid of her, so they were a small price to pay. She came round one afternoon with her uncle to load them into a trailer, and the uncle was being pretty rough with them... Ogwen pipes up and suggests that he's a little more careful with them as Nicola was going to use them.. and the uncle stopped dead in his tracks.. "we're about to take them to the skip mate.. She said you didn't want them..." They both agreed she was a cow, and that Ogwen was best off without her.

She also embarked on a smeer campaign in her local community, saying how mean Ogwen had been to her and *That's* why she left... Lies. All lies. She was thrown out because she was a liar, a cheat and a gutless tart who used deliberate pregnancy as a tool to "keep her man". Scum. This might conjour up a mental image of lass wearing Kappa gear. Nicola was far from it. Her parents were more than comfy, Nicola and Owen met at university where she attained a fairly good degree.

On the night that had been supposed to be the "Wedding Night" Ogwen threw a "I'm NOT getting married" party. We all rejoiced, and Ogwen bedded one of Nicola's mates. Marvellous. He was happy to report that she was better, more adventurous and WAY more satisfying than his ex Fiancé. HE emerged at 3am sweating and grinning "bloody hell mate.. thank god I didn't get married!!"

As a result of thier actions, Nicola and David were exiled by their former group of friends. David's mother even threw him out while screaming "How DARE you treat Ogwen like that??" They shacked up together. Unhappy, but clinging to what they had left: each other.

After a while Nicola came crawling back: Begging Owen to take her back and declaring that David Had a small winkie, was terrible in bed and absolutely NOT someone that she wanted to spend her life with... A silent and well controlled Owen merely pointed to the door.

After she left he e-bayed many of her more sell-able possessions: he then bought a new sofa.

As Ogwen said: he'd warned David that she'd get pregnant to "keep" him.... David broke the "joyous" news to his small group of friends when Nicola walked into the pub, 8 months gone and looking large. None of them had the faintest idea that she was pregnant... His explanation? "I thought I was out, but It was actually in". Ahhh.. the romance!.

So. well.. there's bugger all point to this really. They have a child and, despite not being happy together, they're getting married. Nicola will live her life with a lying back-stabbing little runt, and she in turn will have to live with the knowledge that she let Ogwen - a smart and caring guy loved by all that know him - She let Ogwen go.

Did it teach them anything?.. Saying it did would imply that bringing a child into this world together was some sort of punishment. That I think would be underhanded and a little cruel.

Maybe it teaches US something.
Ogwen since found a lovely lass who compliments him well. He's as happy as a pig in shit, and this summer she'll become a Mrs Ogwen.

Don't marry someone that you can live with:
Marry someone that you can't live without.

Length? Girth? ... Nicola says her future husband is seriously lacking.
(, Thu 3 May 2007, 8:48, Reply)
(, Thu 3 May 2007, 8:45, Reply)
Do not insult your taxi driver.
A number of years ago, our company had the contract to provide rail support services on part of the west coast main line. Basically, running replacement taxis and minibuses when Virgin fucked up.

The most prized run to get was the Stafford to Holyhead one, which took about 4 hours and was worth about 250 quid.

One night Virgin fucked up and I had to take 8 people through darkest Wales, to get to the ferry by 3am. Most of them were nice people, except one, who was a total wanker.

He complained constantly, like the train breaking down ws my fault, swigged repeatedly from a bottle of vodka, and smoked even though i told him it was a no smoking van (a lie really, but he was pissing me off).

By the time we'd go to Keele services, everyone wanted him off the minibus, so i threatened to dump him there if he didn't shut up an behave. He quietened down. For a while.

Just after Chester he was in a singing, swearing, fighting drunken state, and had called me a cunt several times.

By the second services on the A55 he was unconcious, and the rest of us had a vote.

Unanimus. Off he went.

I'd like to know his reaction to waking up on the forecourt of a Welsh petrol station with "Who's the cunt now?" written on his forehead in permanent marker.
(, Thu 3 May 2007, 2:20, Reply)

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