Nearly beaten up by the law
Sometime in the late 1980s, I'd been pratting about with a video camera and some mates, trying to make some kind of music video. We were heading back into Brighton, piled into a clapped-out car. As we reached the centre of town, it became clear that something was up.

Remember that in 1984 the IRA had bombed the Grand Hotel here, in a failed attempt to assassinate Margaret Thatcher. This must have been just a few years later, and, as it turned out, the Conservatives were back in town for their conference. We suddenly found ourselves in the midst of a huge armed police presence.

Now, apart from a little spliffage, we hadn't been doing anything wrong, so were rather surprised when we were stopped and questioned through the window by a cop with anger management issues. Apparently, the rather hung-over star of the video, who was wearing sunglasses and cradling his aching head in his hands, had attracted their attention as he seemed to be hiding his face.

"You! What's your name!?"

"Er, Martin Madeupname, why?"

"Where are you from!?"

"Erith"

"What part of Ireland is that, then?"

This rather baffled us, as Erith is in London. Eventually the angry cop decided we weren't a threat to national security, and waved us on with a snarl. We drove off, relieved that the beating we seemed to be heading for hadn't happened.

At that point I realised that I'd accidentally triggered the video camera, and had recorded the whole thing. It's a pity nothing more newsworthy happened...
(moon monkey is busy making memories worth repressing, Tue 12 Feb 2013, 11:19, 4 replies)

Girls can be so cruel.
I was 16/17. We were a bunch of lads, with a bunch of girls, having high-jinx on the beach; the usual bonfire, guitar, illicit booze.

I was holding court very well - genuine laughs at my tales and jokes.

Until one beautiful girl said simply, "It's late, you're tired, and you're beginning to show off."
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Tue 12 Feb 2013, 10:18, 9 replies)

Told off by landlord. BECAUSE OF FIRE
Years ago I moved into my first student house. Being situated on the corner of two overcrowded streets I was delighted to find that it had a small garage attached to the back garden. I was not so delighted to find that it contained approximately ten years worth of old Christmas trees courtesy of the previous owners. As such you would be hard pressed to fit a matchbox car in there, let alone my Nova.

I decided the best way to remove them was to cut them into small pieces and burn them slowly. For about a week I burned a enough to fill a small barbecue pit. I figured that burning a few Kilos of wood after dark would not be amiss in a suburburn neighbourhood, after all no-one had said anything to me.

Wrong. A few days later I got a Irate letter from the landlord who had been inundated with calls from my neighbours about the anti-socialness of it. Ho hum said I, I'll stop with the fires. But I was only doing so to be rid of the small dead forest that was making the garage unusable and would you be so good as to send someone round to remove them?

Two days later I came home one afternoon to find that my house was burning down. The whole street was choking in smog that seemed to be emanating from my garden. Rushing round the back I was confronted with two workmen types.

Rather than sully their pristine ford transit with a decades worth of pine needles they had decided to drag the trees into a huge pyre and burn them. In a fire that took up 80% of the back garden, that was smoking like a 1970s northern working mens club. Within about two minutes of my arrival, one chap chucked another tree on top of this flaming monstrosity and said "Right that's the lot" and proceeded to promptly fuck off along with his mate.

Leaving me alone with an empty garage, a incinerator for a back garden. And most of all the dagger eyed stare of my next door neighbour as she strode out of her house, through the smog. Silently she did not let up the evil eye the whole time as she slowly took every. last. piece. of. washing. off her clothesline and brought it inside.
( willenium Fist bump for verification, Tue 12 Feb 2013, 9:35, 2 replies)

I was in a board meeting, and openly mocked our deputy director for
attempting to conduct our business in accordance with his religious beliefs. He was none to impressed, I can tell you.

Yours
Admiral Motti
( monster munch person, man, woman... camera... TV?, Tue 12 Feb 2013, 9:00, 1 reply)

I was only trying to make a little bit of money
and ok, it's not the most salubrious of careers - but you do what you have to do. I spotted a gap in the market - self-employed women, out there on their own in a cruel and uncaring world, devoid of oversight and protection. So I put in a little capital, set up some workshops, and tried to help them out on their chosen path - whilst skimming off a little for myself, of course. A man has to eat, after all.

My burgeoning empire declined and fell quite rapidly when some ignorant pricks cut off my head with a samurai sword*, and tossed it in a bin**. The cunts.

*Never happened
**Stay about from my bin.
( Happy Phantom has been to Hastings, Brighton, and Eastbourne too, Tue 12 Feb 2013, 1:26, 5 replies)

You could have let it lie.

( Dr Preference AjcuiVd289, Mon 11 Feb 2013, 23:23, 1 reply)

told off by the ex deputy mayor
The other day i got a note through the door. A concerned neighbor was "worried about my safety" as i seemed to be burning something with a foul stench on my stove and it was stinking out everyone. It wasn't the stove just the smell of my angle grinder gasping its last as i cut through a 15kg gas cylinder.....perfectly safe.
(Rrose Slavy, Mon 11 Feb 2013, 19:53, Reply)

Not myself who got the telling off, more so my mother...
Back in the mid/late 80's, my mother had decided to take my older brother and myself out for the day during the summer holidays. We'd gone to an old castle (I forget which one it was), the place was still sort was massive with a large courtyard at the centre, as most of these places usually do. It was also surrounded by walls and towers and such as you'd expect. I remember on the way in there we'd seen some military personnel who were stationed there or on guard duty that day, anyway.

That day my mother had decided to make us a pack lunch and we'd sat in the courtyard of this place munching away, my mother left me and my older brother eating our lunch while she nipped into the gift shop which was next to where we were eating. On finishing our food and drinks (the cardboard carton jobs with straws in them), we decided it'd be fun to do what any kid with one of these drinks cartons does, fill it full of air using the straw and stamp on it as hard as you could.

Now given the area we were in (enclosed), the resulting boom coupled with the fact that this was the height of the IRA's bombing campaign drew some rather unwanted attention from the military chaps who were in ear shot. Queue about 10 of the coming running into the courtyard along with my mother and giving her a right bollocking for nearly putting the whole place on terror alert, oops.

We left not long after that.
(HungOver, Mon 11 Feb 2013, 19:01, 6 replies)

This from nearly 40 years ago but I've never forgotten it - and never will ...
I was about 10 so my sister would have been 7. My mother was quite highly strung in these days and was an enthusiastic proponent of corporal punishment. Since we were not exactly a wealthy family we didn't get choccy biscuits very often. So on a rare occassion when we had some and they mysteriously vanished, my sister and I were lined up and questioned vigourously.
Now I KNOW it wasn't me who took them and I protested my innocence accordingly - but so did my sister.
After a bollocking that would have stripped the paint off a door my mother ordered both of us to strip naked with a view to the forthcoming leathering being even worse than normal. At that stage I stepped up to the mark and took the rap to spare my young sister the rod.

Bad enough but what hurt me even more than the beating was both my parents deriding me with, "What a coward ... imagine about to let your wee sister take a thrashing for your greed". Bastards - I don't know who had eaten the biscuits but I know it definitely wasn't me.

On the whole however I had a pretty reasonable childhood and don't hold much against my parents. That one though STILL rankles though because justice was never served. Poor me !
( Ramsay Tupper, Mon 11 Feb 2013, 16:45, 7 replies)

I was at some dodgy party the other night and this bird was trying to get into my pants but this other bird scared her off.
Girls are always fighting over me.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Mon 11 Feb 2013, 14:53, 15 replies)

My brother is recently married,
but this didn't stop some harpy trying to lure him away with talk of an aging Bruce Willis.
The nerve of some people - next time we go to a party, I'm locking him in the airing cupboard.
( monster munch person, man, woman... camera... TV?, Mon 11 Feb 2013, 14:29, 2 replies)

dodgy party friday night
spent 20 minutes having a conversation with a bloke about the new die hard film. when he went to the loo, some weird shouty bitch came over to me.
"you'd better watch what you say to him, don't you know he's married?" she snarled.
"yes, he told me. we were only talking about films, what's the problem?"
"the problem is he's my brother and he's only 21, so keep your fucking hands off him!"
with that, she stormed off into the next room, presumably to yell at people for not using coasters.
when the bloke came back, i said "i really don't think you should be talking to me, your sister seems to think i'm after you or something."
"what? i haven't got a sister!"
i was perplexed, to say the least. "who's that shouty bird, then? she said she was your sister and you're only 21."
"her?" he asked, seeming stunned, "i have no idea! i only met her tonight! i wouldn't mind, but i'm 28 and she was trying to drag me into the airing cupboard half an hour ago!"
so, there you go. weird shouty bitches at parties should be avoided, especially if they think you're after the married man they're trying to snog.
( Smash Monkey lowering the tone of the whole internet, Mon 11 Feb 2013, 14:13, 5 replies)

My mother
had a brilliant way of dishing out punishment.
It was the 80s and I was a teenager who'd given her some lip over something or other. She removed her flip-flop (or flop-flip if you're left handed)and came after me, but I out-ran her, flicking the digit as I went.
A whole 8 hours later as I sat eating my tea, she walked up behind me and whacked me round the head, knocking me off my chair.
"You may have bad memory, but I haven't" was all she said as she calmly walked away.
(Appleseed Is getting married 24/05/2014. All invited., Mon 11 Feb 2013, 14:03, 2 replies)

I wouldn't let it lie.

( Dr Preference AjcuiVd289, Mon 11 Feb 2013, 10:28, 11 replies)

I was amused, and then recently very disappointed with B3ta.
Some time ago, a B3tan said to me "You couldn't be funny even if you were gang-raped by clowns".

I thought this was absolutely superb, and forwarded the exchange to both of my friends.

How disappointed I was at Christmas, then, when, in telling this to one of my in-laws, they simply nodded and said "Frankie Boyle".

"What?" cried I, "You mean it's one of his jokes?"

"Yes" they said, "I thought that's what you were getting at."

So, because of that, you're all cunts.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Mon 11 Feb 2013, 9:42, 8 replies)

I couldn't resist his bins.

( stuj (^(^;;^)^) GO TEAM SPIDERS!(^(^;;^)^), Mon 11 Feb 2013, 6:12, 3 replies)

The last time was December.
Got accused of blaming a colleague for a mistake I had made (I didn't). Boss tried to make me sign a statement saying I had done it, the arsehole she is. I wrote my own 'statement' back... Nothing was ever said again.
(The Curse of Millhaven. Pretty little mouth underneath all the foaming, Sun 10 Feb 2013, 20:46, 8 replies)

Around the age of 3...
my daughter was acting up, and would not desist.

An idea occured:"Go and sit on the naughty step right now" I said, firmly and without blinking.

She stopped, looked at me with those impossibly big eyes, and slowly and dejectedly left the room.

At which point i followed her, just to see where she went. We'd never mentioned naughty steps before, let alone show her where it was.

A good talking point in the Nature/Nurture debate, perhaps?

Edit: These days, when we fly, I threaten them with "the naughty wing"
(CADmonkey rollllllllled another one, just like the other one, Sun 10 Feb 2013, 17:58, 14 replies)

Whoever successfully nominates the winning QOTW suggestion should be a mod for that week and step anyone they damn well want.

( Fucking hell Jeff I am not a robot, Sun 10 Feb 2013, 16:20, 5 replies)

Driving down a road an hour ago
A group of seagulls were on a pavement on the left hand side of the road, and as I began passing them one of them flew out straight in front of me. Not wanting to kill the critter, I slammed on the brakes as the seagull glared at me while squeaking abuse and carried on flying past while looking back at the car. And not paying attention to the lamppost on the other side of the road, which he happily flew into and nearly knocked himself out. That'll teach the little fucker, too busy giving me a bollocking to look where he was flying lol.
( Jeccius Steam Borderlands 2 junkie, Sun 10 Feb 2013, 15:35, 1 reply)

I got a right bollocking at work during a performance appraisal.
It turns out they they were the droids I was looking for.


(Is Sunday afternoon too early to sink to the 'Star Wars-lol!!' level??
(FartThroughAWalkieTalkie wished you were dead in ditch on, Sun 10 Feb 2013, 13:46, 1 reply)

Student bank statement
suggested that I curtail my (then) current lifestyle through the means of a list of cold, hard, indisputable and itemised numbers (bearing the names of various drinking and eating emporiums); rounded-off with a larger, weightier-looking number at the bottom which was preceded by a rather innocuous and barely perceptible minus sign.
(roysin, Sun 10 Feb 2013, 12:49, Reply)

I got caned at school once.
Then I got into loads of trouble for cannabis use on school premises.

I nicked that joke off Ali G. It's not theft, it's copyright infringement.

See you in court.
(dozers, do fuck off ur a nob m8, Sun 10 Feb 2013, 9:15, Reply)

Cane=Broken!
This may have a slightly roasted smell from a reply. Just think if search=fixed I'd be able to confirm it.

I went to an "elite" all boys Anglican boarding school (couldn't you just tell!). Square peg, round hole and all that.
Anyhoo one Saturday in yr. 7 I'm practicing my tennis by hitting up against a wall. I've been there for about halfa in plain view pounding my forehands & getting in some volleys. One of the house-masters sons comes down with his racquet and sits watching me. Let's call him "spoiltshit".
A little background here - the housemaster (Mr. B) lives with his wife and two sons in a semi-detached house near the boarding house. The boys attend the school fee-free and his missus has a cracking set and a nice pair of pins that she *always* kept sheathed in the most intricate and delightful stockings. The old boy was a fat, sadistic, alcoholic cunt.

While I'm hitting, the son pipes up that "I want to have a go.", I politely point out that within spitting distance there are a number of walls of equal or bigger area free, including a massive 2 court-wide by 20ft. high retaining wall at the tennis courts specifically set aside for practice. Then I hit one wide and my ball skitters off around the corner.
When I get back from having retrieved it I find spoiltshit having a hit. "Oi! I was here first." says I. "Nick off or I'll tell my dad on you." says he. In for a penny I figure so I advance telling where to go. He swings at me with his racquet. As any polite Australian gentle-fellow would do I respond by giving him a little bop on the schnoz with my fist. He runs off crying with blood streaming out of his nose threatening all sorts of recriminations. I go back to having a hit and carry on for the next half an hour or so before heading back to the boarding house.
For the pacifists - yes I should've just taken another spot but the fact that he swung 1st, and tried to "hide" behind his father's authority was just my red rag.

Upon my return to the boarding house I am informed that Mr. B. (the housemaster) is looking for me and I am to report to his office immediately. Oh well.
He demands to know why I've hit his son. I tell him exactly what transpired. He counters with a story where his son is the protagonist and I hit him with my tennis racquet. Figures. He then tells me to drop my kekks & lean over the desk as he got out his cane (this was clearly not the first time I had received "6 of the best".)
Another little back ground segue - it was at this time that the topic of corporal punishment was being hotly debated in parliament & the community and it was very soon after that thrashing that it was banned in all private and government schools. I was very aware of this as my job was to deliver the papers in the morning which meant I always had a chance to have a good read before breakfast.
As I was trying not to clench my bum cheeks for the last swing (that always made the welts and bruising worse) he gives an almighty swing, the cane breaks on my arse and the end of it goes flying in front of me, out the window.

I happily stood up, adjusted my pants and informed him that legally that was probably the last time he'd ever be able to do that to me. It was.
I actually became quite good friends with spoiltshit's younger brother - we still keep in touch. And many a teenaged wank involved Mrs. B's lovely cleavage and/or garter belt and stockings.

tl;dr?
I played tennis, got in trouble at school and fantasized about my housemaster's wife.
Length?
It was a 26" tennis racquet from memory.
(Misery McUglywife an attention seeking sociopathic fuckstain., Sat 9 Feb 2013, 23:42, 9 replies)

I was never sexually abused as a child
Now I don't have a reason for acting like a twat now I'm all grown up.

Why dad? Why? Now I'll have to go to jail rather than being given nice easy councilling for all my rapes and murders

Maybe I should blame my uncles
(wehttamman via B3ta for microwave, Sat 9 Feb 2013, 19:01, 8 replies)

What?
Punishment is a subject I can endlessly ejaculate on.

Of course no other country has the same foundation fair play as our own. Last year I got pinched by the Greek PoPo due to a misunderstanding over a payment to three Wee Jimmy Krankie impersonators and a large Madam.

I awoke on the morning of my court appearance foreseeing a loss of liberty and the dark abuses of the Greek prison system.

Before long I was chained to a wall, being harshly sodomised with a yard broom handle. Later I arrived at the courthouse fully refreshed and ready to face any rigors to be directed my way.

I landed on me feet with the Beak. He was not a fan of the Krankies and was willing to release me for a payment of five thousand euros and a scrugging in his private chamber.

Fine people the Greeks.
(Brigadier an old boot sitting on a man's face - forever, Sat 9 Feb 2013, 14:09, 4 replies)

The naughty step indeed
I was visiting my old mate Des one Saturday afternoon when all hell broke loose at a house diagonally opposite.

Des said to come and have a look at this, so over to the window I went.

A girl about ten burst around the back corner of the house going like a train followed a few moments later by a large woman in full cry. But by the time the woman made it to the front corner, the girl was back in through the front door. That slammed shut behind her.

The woman got to the door and thumped on it. It was locked. Shouting threats of slow death at "You kids", she returned to the back door, which apparently was locked as well. Over the next five minutes the shouts died away and she took to prowling around the house muttering threats.

Ten minutes later she was sitting quietly on the front door step.

Des said that when she got too much for her three children, they locked her out of the house.

"She falls for it every time" he said.
(Redemption blamed it on the Bossa Nova since, Sat 9 Feb 2013, 12:45, 1 reply)

will there be a prize ceremony?










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(King Zog of Albania lives in Kensington, Sat 9 Feb 2013, 6:36, 30 replies)

I was a United States Marine
There isn't enough space on the internet. Enough said.
(jeligula, Sat 9 Feb 2013, 2:52, 15 replies)

Something
etc.
( social hand grenade I was a lurker before you were a lurker, Fri 8 Feb 2013, 21:51, Reply)