Well there is nothing like rewengie
One summer before I joined university, I spent some time working in a tree nursery. It was quite a nice job. There were 4 of us working there. We had a giggle, and most of our days would be spend riding around on an ancient tractor, drinking gallons of tea and listening to Atlantic 252 (no age lulz please!)

We were good an efficient at our job. Most of the morning was spent "pricking out" (no laughing at the back there) which was by far the most tedious part of the job, but we got it over with early in the day for a relaxed afternoon. Pricking out involves removing seedlings from a large tray and planting them in individual containers so that they could grow to be big and strong trees. Hurrah!

Anyhow, so far, so rurally idyllic and dull. Well yes. This was apart from Darren, the supervisor. The company I worked for ran 2 sites about 20 miles apart. Darren was supposed to run between the two and make sure everything was running smoothly. Unfortunately as he lived closer to our nursery, he spent most of his time here. He was a cunt. First of all he looked like he'd nicked the overbite from a horse. To coin a phrase, he had teeth that the druids could use as a place of worship. He was the kind of git who would patronise you from the word go, whilst making sure that you got the full benefit of his masterful experience at all things, from planting trees to making sweet sweet lovin to "the laydeez" (most likely in the back of his Honda Accord.) He was that cock who had been everywhere and done everything, even though anything he said was clearly a tissue of lies that could have been picked apart by a 3 year old. Oh, and he refused to allow us to have the radio on when he was there, because "we don't get paid to listen to music."

One particular day, Darren had turned up smelling as usual like unwashed cock. He insisted on "helping" us take out the saplings to the poly tunnels in the afternoon. By helping, he sat in the tractor braying helpful instructions through the window whilst we did all the lifting and shifting, plotting how we could kill him without leaving too much of a stain. Around this time, a huge thunderstorm blew up. It was company policy (not to mention common fucking sense) that no staff should be outside at this time. However Darren did not see it like that. We all took shelter in the poly tunnels, whilst Darren stood there and shouted at us how we would all be docked wages etc etc. But we'd had enough. We were not for moving.

Eventually Darren the Git had had enough. He got out of the tractor and strode over to us in the pouring rain. As he got near, the wet ground meant he lost his footing, making him slip and fall....onto a garden cane that was supporting a row of young saplings. He impaled himself in his belly flab. No damage, but he started running around like some kind of massive-toothed freak screaming and flapping at the still-inserted cane.

"Ah" I said, turning to one of my colleagues. "It looks like a Stick In Git Toothy Man."

Sorry.
( Undercovercarrot got done for gross misconduct on..., Fri 18 Jun 2010, 16:59, 5 replies)

*sighs
7/10 for build up
2/10 for the punchline.

Click for 'smelling as usual like unwashed cock'
( sandettie light vessel automatic New Twitter - @bollocksreally, Fri 18 Jun 2010, 17:04, closed)

.
I want my 3 minutes back.
( Not Pineapple anymore, Fri 18 Jun 2010, 17:15, closed)

"I listen to longwave radio, Atlantic 252"
What do I win?
( TheMattInAHat has a particular... odour..., Fri 18 Jun 2010, 20:23, closed)

he had teeth that the druids could use as a place of worship.
We say "He could eat corn on the cob through a screen door.
(TDub Nunc id vides, nunc ne vides on, Sat 19 Jun 2010, 0:34, closed)

Thank you.....
....for putting the punchline in speechmarks, I may never have spotted it otherwise.
(tinypod will never learn. Ever., Sat 19 Jun 2010, 8:48, closed)