Chav 0, Boss 1
I did time years ago in one of those dodgy finance companies a few years ago in the north west - the kind of place that makes Ocean Finance look like the paragon of business ethics.
The owner was (and probably still is) a complete gobshite, who delighted on getting coked out of his skull and then throwing his weight around the office. One of the poor sods who was working in the incoming call office got the sack once for walking in still wearing his hat and scarf one winter morning, which was enough to offend the glorious leaders Colombian enhanced sensibilities.

He had a grovelling lickspittle of a bloke managing a seperate department for him on the ground floor,called D, who delighted in playing the alpha male with everyone he could get away with, and demanding things as aggressively as possible from the IT department (which I'd ended up part of after a few months there). He called up one day in a blind panic, as 'all the computers have stopped working'. cue me and N, my colleague and the nicest most laid back guy you could wish to work with heading over to that side of the building. N has a bit of a poke around his pc, then sighs and looks at D. the conversation then goes something like this -

N - have you knocked any of the cables or unplugged anything?
D - no...
N - are you sure?
D - positive.
N - come on D, tell me the truth.
D - I havent touched anything.
N - ...
D - well... I plugged my mobile phone charger in...

turns out he'd unplugged the router for his floor (which true to form for this place, was just sat on the floor in a snake's nest of cat-5). mong.

My immediate boss however, was a bit of a legend and great to work for (we remained friends after I walked out and still are to this day). We all went out one night after work, which ended up with us having a bit of a lock in at a bar where he knew the owner. So well lubricated, we leave there and set off across town - the munchies have struck and my boss wants a pizza. On the way, we pass a club that at the time was chav heaven. And lo and behold, sat on the steps outside is a particularly outstanding specimen - shellsuit in a variety of eyebleedingly dayglo colours, (presumably) nicked trainers with those horrible rubber spring things on the heels and baseball cap perched at a silly angle on the back of it's head. And for whatever reason, he's got his arms tucked inside his top so it looks like he's got no arms.

'fuck me' says a very drunken and so slightly more observationally disadvantaged than usual tjn, 'that lads got no arms'.

to which I recieve the stunningly erudite response of him poking one of his hands out of his jacket, and giving me the finger. I laugh at him and keep walking, but my boss is a bit less than taken with this response to say the least. (I should also say that he's a 6"4 skinhead, as a bit of background.)
He tells this lad if he doesnt put his finger away, it's going to get broken.
To which our sartorially challenged (I mean, where do these silly twats get these clothes from for gods sake?) responds with 'f*** off... or I'll get so-and-so and so-and-so from inside the club and then you'll be sorry' - and reels off these names of his mates that presumably we were supposed to be intimidated by.

My boss isnt taking this lying down - he says 'Am I supposed to be worried? I grew up in bloody Belfast, you silly sod.' And then grabs hold of this lad by the foot and starts dragging him down the street. shellsuit boy cant get up because of the angle of his leg that my boss has hold off, and is sort of bouncing down the street. We get about ten yards down the pavement, and his trainer comes off in my boss's hand.

my boss then drops it on the floor... and promptly takes a wazz in it. shellsuit boy starts screeching that 'he's going to f***ing kill us', I'm crying laughing at this point - it's juvenile I know, but bloody funny if you've had a skinful as well.

We continue our way down the main road to the pizza shop, and after a few minutes I'm aware over the usual noise of traffic and punch ups over who's getting in first at the various taxi ranks we're passing, I can also hear someone shouting 'Im going to f***ing get you fat c**t... and you you bald tw*t...' and so I look around to see where it's coming from...

And see it's our friend from outside the club... about a hundred yards away, hopping after the two of us as fast as he can...

...clutching a trainer still steaming gently in the autumn air.

length? I didnt look to be honest. but great aim on my boss's part.
(tjn whizzing on the electric fence of life, Sun 21 Jun 2009, 17:05, 3 replies)

so your boss
...got pissed up, took offence at somebody because of their appearance, assaulted them, then pissed in their shoe?
( rofl harris, Mon 22 Jun 2009, 9:51, closed)

It may not be big, or clever...
...but it IS chuffing funny!

"I grew up in bloodybelfast you silly sod"
( BulldogUgly Visit my profile to see what's between my legs, Mon 22 Jun 2009, 12:56, closed)

did you read that?
he got pissed up and took offence at some brain dead moron for giving him the bird for no reason.



then assaulted them and pissed in their shoe.
(tjn whizzing on the electric fence of life, Mon 22 Jun 2009, 15:38, closed)