My next door neighbour....
Back in the day, before Baby Stella put in an appearance, we lived in a small house next door to Mr and Mrs Stingy. They have been friends of ours and when we were looking for somewhere to live they found got us the house next door to them when the previous occupant, left, but I digress.....

It's lovely living next door your best mates, popping in and out for coffe. Run out of milk, sugar, beans? Wayhey, pop next door!

More often than not, on a Friday, the boys would be in next doors house smoking on 'tweed and playing Xbox, and us girlies would be in our house drinking wine and watching whatever soppy girly crap the men refused to watch.

However, it took me a few weeks to realise that it was me buying the wine, every week. Now Mrs Stingy gets paid 20k a year, Mr is not far behind her. Rent in those houses is only £350 a month. This was last year. Between them they have several nice vehicles.

It got to the point where I started buying 2 bottles of wine an evening, as one just isn't enough. And I don't like cheap wine. Subtle hints that it was her turn were just ignored. I stopped buying 2 bottles, just bought the one, and waited for her to go home before I opened it. Sometimes she stayed so late I didn't get to drink it. I was at my wits end. Goddamned if I'm going to subsidise her friday night drinking, this even continued while I was out of work for a while.

Finally my sister hit upon the perfect plan. I would ring her from the supermarket, say I was picking up a bottle of wine, and if she wanted one I would get it and and she could sort me out* when she came over! Job done! End of story? Not on your Nelly!

I haven't been drinking for a while as I got myself all pregnant, moved to a bigger house, and last month, when Baby Stella was 10 weeks old, the boys all went out on a stag do, and as I can't go out I invited the girls round here for a drink. Mrs Stingy was the only one that had no booze on her. Eyes were rolling so much I offered to walk to the offy** with her. She spied a nice bottle of Vodka, and said she would go halfs with R on it. She also declared she couldn't give R half the money yet as she only has her card on her, no cash (I am wise to this trick now, she always does it) so I told her to put it on her card and R could give her half back in cash. Lovely, all sorted. (Except R *didn't have enough cash* on her anyway, and I *forgot* to take my purse with me, so Mrs Stingy paid)

The best bit is, she got called away early for some reason or another, R couldn't drink much as her kiddie was at home, and I refused to let Mrs Stingy take the vodka, saying leave it here and share it with R next girls night in.
The next time she came around, as I was letting Mrs S in, Mr Stella was instructed to hide the vodka. Out of sight, out of mind. Then on the Friday afternoon, my mum took the baby, R's dad was picking her kiddie up from school and we drank the fucking lot.

So cheers Mrs Stingy, you tight arse fucker, me and R had the best afternoon ever on you, thanks a lot. I feel we deserved it!

This is the same Mrs Stingy that charged me £15 quid in petrol to pick me up from the hospital after I went there in an ambulance because Baby Stella stopped breathing, then about 3 days later got me to take her to the same hospital as she fell off her horse (her horse mind you, those fuckers don't come cheap!) and broke her leg! Did she give me the £15 quid back and call it quits? Did she Feck!


Best go now, it's Friday, she'll be here soon and I have to finish the wine before she shows up!

*with the cash, dirty b3tans!
** off licence

Length, this has been going on for 6 years!

Edit: She would also bring her phone to my house to charge it, and was always at my house when it was cold, to save her putting her own heating on I assume.
(leglesss let that be a lesson to you, Fri 24 Oct 2008, 21:57, 7 replies)

Regifting
We gave my Dad's partner an aromatherapy set a few Christmases ago. Don't much like her to be honest, bit of a selfish possessive old bat who's turned my Dad against me in recent times, but to keep the fake smiles going we got her something on a 3-for-2 deal at Boots, which kind of satisfied us that we hadn't technically paid for it.

Last year, my dearly beloved opened her present from my Dad and the bat, to find the very same set we had given her some years ago- missing the book that went with it, now with out of date oils and slightly tarnished metal candle holder.

I didn't tell him, I'm saving it for another time, but since then they've had basic 'bottle of port and cheese board' type presents, that they can't give back to us.

My old man used to joke about giving us a lightbulb of our own to use as we moved from room to room, but this took the pee a bit.

Nothing wrong with regifting in itself, but be very careful what you give to whom!
(randomstupidname would really like this signature field to be bigge, Fri 24 Oct 2008, 21:47, 10 replies)

While working in a wine shop in Chichester
there was a chap who came in and bought about £280 worth of fancy booze. While this may sound like a lot to blow on wine, around there we regularly saw quite a few high-rollers, accustomed to spending upwards of two grand. Safe to say, that town's not feeling the pinch much at the moment.

As the customer got ready to settle up, he asked, "So, how about a discount to help pay for the petrol?"
Now, we deliver for free anyway. He'd got products which were all heavily discounted, so I really didn't have any margin to give him.

What put the tin lid on it, however, was a glance into the car park - where I saw his pale blue, 4.8l Jag.

If the petrol bills are biting, mate, you might consider a change of car...
( wynoh kills threads by his mere presence, Fri 24 Oct 2008, 21:38, 1 reply)

My uncle
god bless him has a bit of a rep in my family for being a cheapass.
One time in the 60's,he had recently availed himself of the new technology and gotten one o' them "cred-it cards". A bunch of the brothers and sisters went out to dinner and left cash on the table for the waitress.
He was the last one out of the restaurant with a smug grin. Uncle Prince went back in to see what had happened (mainly because he didn't trust Elbert)

Elbert had scooped all the cash and put it on his card, stiffing the waitress and garnering a nice little windfall for himself. Uncle Prince was furious and gave the waitress a huge tip and stomped back out to the parking lot. He forced Elbert to give up the cash and returned it to each sibling, thereby making Elbert treat them all to dinner!

length? Probably 60 or 70 bucks, quite large for 1965.
(TDub Nunc id vides, nunc ne vides on, Fri 24 Oct 2008, 21:34, 1 reply)

Every week ...
My mother would send me around to the local butcher with threepence, so that I could ask for a bag of his finest chicken faces.
(Just a stub, Fri 24 Oct 2008, 21:16, 4 replies)

Charity muggers
Just tell them you already give to their charity and save yourself some time AND the £2 per month. I don't know how I sleep at night knowing I'm contributing to killing all those pensioners/child workers/AIDS victims that would love my £2 a month. But that's almost a pint!


Actually I sleep quite well at night, I got a new pillow. Hooray!
(The Oscillating Gibbon is eating curried squid, Fri 24 Oct 2008, 20:30, 2 replies)

Stale bread? No thanks!
My mum was a big believer in buying bread in bulk. Doing the math, (3 kids + 1 parent) x (1 sandwich + 2 slices of toast) per day = stale sarnies at the end of the month.

To stop the bread going stale she would freeze it. Each morning she would take a frozen loaf out of the freezer, whack it a couple of times against the counter-top to loosen up the slices and make our sandwiches for school.

This was fine during the summer, as the bread would defrost nicely by lunchtime. Can you guess what happened during winter?

Bread-flavoured popsicles. Yummy.
( argyleblanket The man on the roof works for me, Fri 24 Oct 2008, 20:25, 11 replies)

Another mate
Moans like hell he cant afford anything, His Kids are going to have a shit Xmas as he cant afford anything blah blah blah.

But he can afford 20 fags a day. And a bottle of wine most nights.

Mean or selfish? You decide.
(kitescreech still here, Fri 24 Oct 2008, 20:18, 3 replies)

BT Tightwads
I can never pass up an excuse to have a good rant at BT.

For reasons i'll not go into I had to cancel by BT broadband some 4 or 5 months before the "minimum" period of 12 months. For the privilage, they want to charge me the remaining period of rental AND and extra £45. So instead I transfered my broadband account to the phone line of an elderly neighbour of my parents where I get to pay the remainder in installments AND avoid the mystery £45 fee.

Suck it, BT cunts
(Amos Moses, Fri 24 Oct 2008, 19:52, 12 replies)

Where to start...
I am guilty of many offenses, both by practice and association:

"Sharecroppers"
1) Living with my Mom and going round to neighbor's gardens with her to "help them harvest" - she was divorced, at the time, having not yet met Mr. Chicken, and we lived in the Rust Belt in the late 70s to early 80s. A majority of our vegetables were obtained this way.
2) Pillaging gardens and fields as an early teen for all matter of crops - corn, watermelons, greens, peaches, etc.,
3) My Dad hanging around the hunting shops and buying the meat from tourist hunters who were only after trophies and not interested in the meat. We had a freezer full of boar and deer once the season ended. And do you know how you can stretch meat out for weeks? I do. It's called stir fry.

We weren't poor. We weren't loaded with money, but we had a house, and land, and cars.

F.I.U.Y.
Fark it up yourself:

I had an earlier post about tree cutting disasters, I won't burden you here with it.
There are others, though...
1) The Great Chicken Keeping Extravaganza:
The price of a dozen eggs at the beginning of this - $1.00 US. Weekly consumption of eggs at the Chicken household: about a dozen, we were big bakers and believers in egg breakfasts. Cost of materials for chicken coop: 60 feet of fencing at $1.75 a foot, 8 stakes, $3.00 each. Four laying hens, and one rooster, $60.00 at a discount deal. Medicine for one sick hen, that died 3 months after we bought them, $80.00. 3 new hens, $15.00 each. Inoculations for seven hens plus one rooster - 210 dollars a year. Average daily yield - 3 eggs. Oh and feed! 50 lb. bag of cracked corn, every three weeks, 19.00. Crumbled oyster shells, 20 lbs., 12.00 every six weeks.
Number of hens slaughtered and eaten in the five years I had left to live with them - three. Hours of mindless chicken observation: priceless. Actual savings: I can't be buggered. It's in the high negatives. Cost in injuries inflicted by said chickens: Annoyingly high.

2) The Fire Chief's car (aka the Geekmobile)
My Dad was chief of the local fire brigade. He got it in his head, like you do, that as chief, he needed his own mobile command vehicle. He had been a firefighter for many years at this point, and had seen the benefits of such a vehicle. He put it to the town to maybe lease him a vehicle along with the police cars next time they came around for chief's duties. They turned him down out of hand. Not to be deterred, he scrounged an old fire truck light bar - the flashing lights and siren on the top of a fire truck - that was salvaged from the wreck of an old firetruck from a neighboring jurisdiction. He then bolted this to his own car; a 1972 Plymouth Fury Gran Sedan.
www.fuselage.de/ply72/1.html
that he had up to that point been restoring.
I love my parents; but I died a little inside whenever my Dad would pick us up from school.
With standing permission from the police department, his vehicle was almost always first on the scene, with that 1960s siren screaming on top of this Detroit monstrosity belching sulfur-rich fumes into the country air. He had a CB, police band, multi-channel command radio set and carried extra tools, traffic control devices, truck parts, emergency medical supplies and SCBA bottles in the roomy trunk. As a result of him using his own vehicle for official business, he: never got pulled over when he ran his lights, and; never paid for his own fuel again.
He later ripped the guts out of a US Mail Jeep and put all of his command equipment in there, so "it would be easier to get to", right-hand drive and all.
I wish I still had that Fury.

For my part, I can tell you that it is not cheaper to install your own dishwasher - especially when you have a hose that leaks, and turns your $100.00 installation fee savings into $3000.00 of water damage - that I can't be buggered to do more than clean up and hope to hell I get a windfall to fix it before I try to dump this money pit for a deluxe apartment in the sky. I mean, the damage is cosmetic, but I have to replace all of it before I try to sell.

It is also not a good idea to attempt to restore furniture found on the side of the road. Use it for parts, yes, but chances are it was thrown out for a reason. Trust me on this. I once furnished an apartment in Early Dumpster, and while it was appropriate to the company we kept at the time, I will now only use discarded furniture for parts, as unexpected stains and smells on your latest find generally do not make themselves known until safely indoors again.

So - guilty of all charges, me.
(aeon chicken Like the Millenium Falcon, only slower and noisier, Fri 24 Oct 2008, 19:50, Reply)

Neighbourly wanker
We had just moved into Linbox Towers and I was stood outside having a fag when one of my new neighbours shouted a "hello, how's it going?" over the fence. To which I answered that the move had gone fine, but where the vendor had removed a washing machine from the downstairs bog, they'd obviously loosened something, because there was a bit of a drip. "Not a problem", says the new neighbour, "I'm a plumber, give me a couple of ticks and I'll pop around".

He was a boring wanker and managed to drag a 3-minute job out for about 5 cups of coffee and half a pack of my B&H. But it was a nice, neighbourly thing to do.

Next morning, he posted an invoice through the letterbox.

Cnut.
( Linbox has a serious dunk habit, Fri 24 Oct 2008, 19:13, 2 replies)

quite the opposite of tightwads, but deserving a mention
out of the blue after my rant about getting my bike stoeln, a very nice (but completely unknown to me) b3tan, you kow who you are, offered me the use of their bike as they're in kuwait for a year and don't need it

amazing

the world is not entirely filled with cunts!


thanks random hero! you just made my day.
(UppityDamnPrimate LET'S OPEN THIS F*CKING PIT UP, Fri 24 Oct 2008, 18:47, 1 reply)

My uncle....
Is known for his long pockets and short arms.
He hasnt bought any new clothes in the past 20 years and still lives at his mum and dad's house rent free even though he's pretty 'minted' due to a good job and large compensation pay out.
However my dad summed him up when he told me about when they used to go out when they were younger.

My favva - "Look at them girls* over there. Shall we go talk to 'em?"
Uncle - "hold on give it a few minutes"
papa - "why?"
Uncle - "They're drinks are running low, so wait till they get some more, cos i'm not payin for em."

Tight twunt

However saying that i do follow these words of wisdom and do wait for a full drink to arrive before i attempt to chat someone up.

*i assure you these girls were young women and definately of rogering age*
( Mr Nerdy-Speccy-FuckNuts Ouchy ouchy wa wa!, Fri 24 Oct 2008, 18:14, Reply)

Starvation
My mum is psychotically tight. Always has been always will be.

This example springs to mind.

When I was 8 years old, mother took me and my brother to see a demolition derby & stunt driving show. My dad was working, so he dropped us off at around 2pm and would be returning at 9pm to pick us up. There was an associated fun fair, but obviously there was no chance of getting a few pence for some rides, so we didn’t ask.

It was winter, and as the sun went down it got bleedin cold. By 6 pm lunch seemed a long way off and the cold accentuated the feeling of hunger. All around us people were tucking into steaming hot dogs, and warming their hands on hot drinks. The smell of all this food was driving me crazy, where ever I looked people where wolfing down greasy goodies.

I couldn’t take it anymore. I pleaded “Please mum, I’m starving! A hot dog, a bag of crisps anything, please!”
“Your dad will be here in a couple of hours and I can make you something at home” She replied.

“Please mum, I’m so hungry I feel sick, please”

“No”

I continued moaning halfheartedly, knowing it was futile. Then something amazing happened. She took her handbag from her shoulder and reached in. ‘She’s going for her purse…I don’t believe it…she’s going to buy some food…YES YES YES’. After rooting around in her bag for an age she triumphantly pulled out a single stick of slightly grubby looking Juicy Fruit gum. We had a third each and at the time it was the most miserable moment of my young life.
( Ring Of Fire A petty, drooling belming butthurt retard., Fri 24 Oct 2008, 18:09, 7 replies)

I've mentioned Mo in a couple of previous QotW posts - one of them's in my "Best of" if you check my profile.
Anyway, a few years ago when I worked in London I was in a band called The Morgan Elliots. One week Mo came to rehearsal with us and filmed the whole thing on a hand-held camera. After taking it home and editing it a bit, Mo burnt us a DVD each of it and so we had a damn good little film of us rehearsing, messing about etc.

A couple of years pass, I move and change jobs, and don't see those guys so often.... in true Professor Kenny Martin style, I lost my copy of the DVD and was quite gutted about this - I mentioned it to the other guys from the band, who didn't have (at the time) any way of copying their discs.

A couple more years pass and I see Mo at the birthday party of a mutual friend and mention that I lost my disc.

"Why didn't you phone me?!" he asked indignantly. "I can burn you another one!"

Overjoyed at this, I gave him my address and laughed when he mentioned it would be £5 to cover the disc, postage and his time.

So, how pleased was I when I got a new copy of the rehearsal film a few days later? Very, and it was just as good as I'd remembered.

Even though there was an invoice accompanying it in the envelope...
(Professor Kenny Martin Hmm? What?, Fri 24 Oct 2008, 18:03, 3 replies)

This didn't even make sense at the time.
When at university I had some friends who shared a house. Being all blokes, they hated doing the washing up and hit on the brilliant solution of using paper plates.

Trouble was, after a short while they realised that paper plates are, relatively speaking, really expensive, so they took to reusing them.

This might not have been so bad if they were just using them for sandwiches and things, but no: they'd put fry-ups on them and all sorts.

A quick rinse under the tap to get the remains off, and after drying overnight the plate was ready to go again.

There are few things more disturbing than eating off a translucent plate.

Mind you it gave them the double saving of not having to buy new paper plates and meaning that nobody came round to their house for a bite to eat more than once.

I did try to suggest to them that they might as well use ordinary plates, but they were too pleased with their masterplan: "Yeah, but we can throw these away when we're finished with them!"

I have a nasty suspicion that they're all working in international banking now.
(richardm, Fri 24 Oct 2008, 17:43, 2 replies)

Tight uncle Colin
When I was about 11, me and the family went to visit me gran, who had other visitors already. Me uncle Colin was there, a well paid manager in a car factory, having a chat to gran and grandad as we turned up. Colin says hi to all of us, then announced that he can't stop and has to go.
Gran says "You've not seen Jeccy and his sister in ages or visited them over Xmas, give them some money!"
He looks at us sheepishly then sticks his hand in his pocket to eventually fish out 20p. He passes 10p to myself and my younger sister and says in a serious voice "Don't spend it all at once both..."
Me gran (who incidentally was half his size) went mental, rammed her hand into his pocket and fished out his wallet while Colin stood there terrified. She rather too quickly gets to the notes and powers £20 out before he could say anything.
"There you are both, thank uncle Colin" says gran.
"Fank u uncle Coooolin..." says me and me sis.
Colin tried to say something, mumbled a bit under his breath and eventually weakly managed "No probs....um bye all" and legs it.
Me gran smiled, waited until he was out of earshot and said to us "20p? Tight assed bastard."
Profits :D
( Jeccius Steam Borderlands 2 junkie, Fri 24 Oct 2008, 17:24, 2 replies)

Fucking hegemony propagating razorblade manufacturers.
Recently I decided to experiment and to try to save some money on razor blades. I normally use those multi mach 3 power ones or whatever they are called and I realised that it was costing me an arm and a leg to buy the blades (£5 for 4!) and the blades only really lasted me about a week anyway. So anyway, I wanted to try and save some money by using cheap disposable razors, a sort of cost-benefit analysis.

So I bought these bic razors and tried them. It was *just* acceptable in terms of closeness but I did end up hacking bits of flesh from my face but it wasn’t too bad. So I tried to use the same blade the next day. Nope. Not a chance. It was if some blunt monkey had spidered into my bathroom during the night and shaved the pumice stone for about five fucking hours.

So I moved onto the next razor in the pack. This continued for a week. At the end of the week, my face was (even more) blotchy, with aged bits of toilet tissue stuck to my ouchys. For the long term it was clearly unacceptable.

What did I do? I bought another set of cheap ones. Surely my face would adapt somehow right? This continued for another few weeks as I am too stubborn to buy the expensive razor blades even though I am only saving about 25p per pack.

Then one morning I go to shave and I find all the cheap disposable ones missing, and a fresh pack of m3powers in their place. I used it and it was like shaving a virgin peach.

My long suffering wife had watched my stubborn razor based folly from afar and had decided to take the necessary remedial action because I am such a cock.

I still can’t get over how expensive razor blades are but what choice do we men have?

NO CHOICE AT ALL FOR THE SUBJUGATED MAN!
(powervator and NONE SHALL PASS, Fri 24 Oct 2008, 17:18, 43 replies)

Sharpness
I work in a knife store and we get customers coming in to sharpen their knives every day. The price is cheap and we prefer cash. Any way, one day a man comes in wanting to sharpen his kitchen cutlery. Looking to have all the earmarks of a golf membership bearing rich as god Jack; Snotty scowl, blingy watch, Ash(hole)worth polo, and highlighted gray feathered hair. I told him we could do that for $5 bucks. He flew into a red faced conniption that it was an outrageous price. This cost is our only insurance if we get our limbs hacked by blades flinging off the wheel and metal shavings in our clothes. Since we only have 3 employees, workman's comp. is an unheard of thing. I told him so and he stormed off fuming and cussing. $5 bucks. Guess that's how he can afford to "look" like a big spender in any case.
(pulelehua.geo Ultralurker, Fri 24 Oct 2008, 17:09, 1 reply)

My mate Tom's wife
(Names changed)
I've only met her once, before they were married. They lived together. Us blokes had been out all day, and decided to go back to his for tea. So we're sat around, talking, meet Helga for the first time, usual pleasantries. She seems OK. A little later she inquires "As a hobby I make cards; it's near Mothers' day, would you like a card?" so out of politeness we all said "Oh yes please" and choose a card for out mums.(I already had a card, as I said I was being polite).
"£1.50 each" she says. We're all too shocked to say anything so we all cough up. Even now (5+ years later) we talk about it. I often joke about sending an invoice with the Xmas card.
(kitescreech still here, Fri 24 Oct 2008, 17:05, Reply)

Pure stinge
Ok, so we’ve got this lad at work. He is literally the tightest person I have come across over the 19 years of existence on this planet.

His day goes like this.

Morning - He'll wake up, not drink anything before he gets to work, where he'll pour himself a PINT glass of the offices milk. Fair enough a small glass, but a pint?!?!
Also, back in the day when he had some muscle growth formula he would mix it up at work, with the works milk. BTW, when this muscle powder crap ran out, he then went to a boiled egg every morning, or chicken (see lunchtime) because it’s cheaper than this muscle stuff.
The chicken is now out the window, asda tinned smart price tuna is cheaper. No sauce, no sweet corn, straight out the tin.

Lunchtime - This is the worst. He drives, but he would use every excuse not to. Whenever someone goes to asda, he will hop in with them. Now, he has NEVER drove somewhere at lunchtime in the whole year he's been working here.

Evening - He'd go home, have his dinner then get his Mrs. round to watch him play Xbox, because he is too tight to take her out (see Valentines Day).

Valentines Day - Cost him £12. He’s been with his bird for like 2 years. He brought Valentines Day for them forward so he could use orange Wednesdays to take her to the cinema and then all you can eat at pizza hut.

Pub - He’d come along, have various rounds bought for him over the weeks, when it came to his round, he'd buy a maximum of 4 pints even though he’s had a drink off everyone for the last 10. Failing that, he’d come pub with no money, and expect someone to bail him out. As soon as we sussed him on this, he’d not come along because he knows it’s his round. This has been going on for months.

Meeting leftovers - He’d ALWAYS be the first downstairs to grab a plate full of leftovers.

Birthday tradition in the office is to buy the cakes. He counted everyone in the office and bought them all an iced finger.

Don’t get me wrong, he’s a sound guy, just if he was any tighter he wouldn’t be able to shit.

There is more, just writing this has hurt me so much.
(NegCheg fap fap fap, Fri 24 Oct 2008, 16:57, 9 replies)

In my first year
of University.

I had a girlfriend, and at one point things were kinda on dire straits and my girlfriend (at the time) suggested a break from one another to 'clear our heads'
I was a little sceptical to the idea, and she responded with:

'oh come on, I fancy other guys except you, y'know!'

Some fucking nerve

She also hardly hugged me or showed me any affection in the slightest (because she wasnt a 'huggy' person) yet it was perfectly alright for her to sling her arms over and flirt with other guys..

When we started going out, she actually set a deadline for our relationship, by saying
'well we're not going to be together next year anyway, so y'know...'

She dumped me for a 16 year old work colleague, I was 19 at the time, she was 21...
sometimes I look back and think what the fuck I was thinking..
(Lord Chode, Fri 24 Oct 2008, 16:57, 5 replies)

My nan
is very wealthy. She started a market research business about 15 years ago working with such brands as armani, hugo boss, radox, dove etc... She earns enough money to take around the world holidays, buy holiday homes next door to famous people, drive mercedes cars, go to the Ritz for scones and tea, etc. You get it.. But don't let that fool you! She's a total tight-arse. Okay, I'm not gonna lie, I've had a few skiing holidays out of her and she paid for a private education, which I'm very greatful for, but...
-She gave my little sister a cheque worth £5 for her birthday this year
-On a day out to Brighton as a nipper, she gave me and my sisters an allowance of £1.50. We couldn't even buy a stick of rock.
-For christmas last year, I got bought a make-up bag.. From superdrug.
-She thought €2 (yes, two Euros) was expensive for a box of Lindt Chocolates.
-And she still had the cheek to rinse her poor ex-husband out of EVERYTHING when they got a divorce.
(plecko, Fri 24 Oct 2008, 16:52, 4 replies)

If I won a million quid on the lottery
I'd buy a house (now is a good time) and a Land Rover Defender, and I'd stick the rest in the bank and live off the interest.

Say I had £900k left after buying my house and a few other bits (with some left over for a rainy day).

Think about it. Several banks offer even the most basic of current accounts with an interest rate of around 5%.

That's £45k a year interest. I could easily live VERY comfortably on that.

Tight bastard? Me? No. I'm 22 now. For the rest of my life I'd have £45k a year, for doing NOTHING, and a bit fat lump of money to leave for my family when I die. Why not? I couldn't use the other £900k anyway!
(Half of Stephen Fry's right buttock pissed on your dog on, Fri 24 Oct 2008, 16:28, 18 replies)

Hmmm...
So we've had spoiled brats, commoners, and tightwads.

To my mind, these are all variations on a theme. Which suggests a certain tightwaddishness in the QotW ideas department...

If only there was a board for suggestions.
( Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Fri 24 Oct 2008, 16:17, 7 replies)

So tight, they re-used toilet paper after drying it and giving it a scrape.
I used to work behind a bar, many moons ago.. and through a very reputable source who was unfortunately related through marriage to the offender, I heard the above about a regular.. who to look at him, you would think he was homeless. Ragged old clothes, and a look of misery on his face..I couldn't help but think what happened in this mans life to bring him in such a state.

I was told that he was in fact a Millionaire. Laughing I told my informant to Fuck off, and to stop drinking meths.

He was dead serious.

Confused, I looked at him again.. "Are we talking about the same tramp of a man here"?
Apparently we were. He was so tight, he would rarely be seen spending money, and had even been seen begging in the street for cash.

But the best of it was..

"Go past his house, and you won't believe your eyes". Puzzled and more than a little curious, I got his address and drove by for a peek. I found the place..and it was a tiny house with the paint peeling off, but what drew my attention was a bath sitting on the front lawn right next to the path that lead right into town. It had a sign next to it.

I got out of the car and took a closer look at what was written, it read:

"Ye Old Wishing Well. Drop in 50p and make a wish"

I couldn't believe the cheek of the dirty old bugger ! The bath was full of water, and sure enough at the bottom of the bath was a 50p.

Apparently that 50p was glued to the bottom of the bath, and each morning (especially at weekends) he would empty the bath of coins thrown in by school kids, or drunks as they walked home from town.
(TheRiddler Hmmmmm... I concur., Fri 24 Oct 2008, 16:16, Reply)

My friends call me tight
because if I'm buying something expensive, I feel no shame in asking for a 'discount for cash'.

The last two televisions, various electrical gadgets, etc, I've either managed to get a discount, or the shop has thrown in a freebie. If they're not willing to offer anything at all, I walk away. My view is that I'm paying my hard earned money for something they have a pretty good mark up on, so they can afford to grant a bit of leeway. If they won't, somewhere else will.

My best result wasn't even for me. My friend had a bingo win and decided to treat her family to a plasma TV. Off to Comet we went, me dragged along to 'see if you can work your magic for me'. Cheeky bugger is usually the first to slag me off for getting a discount, but when it could be helping her .. that's different! She did a bit of dithering and eventually settled on the one her husband had picked after some (read: many many hours) internet research. We get the salesman and I do my usual 'discount for cash' routine. After a bit of haggling with the assistant manager, I've secured £150 off. Result! We get to the till, and the usual crap about the extended warranty starts. At this point, my friend is standing there, with a wodge of cash clutched in her hand, waiting to pay the agreed price. I spotted an opportunity for a freebie.

"See that wodge of cash?" I asked the bloke. "Don't you think it's reasonable to expect something worth that much to last longer than one year? If we really need this extended warranty, then frankly the TV must be rubbish. Destined to break down one day after the year is up. When you think about it mate, that's a disgrace. Oh, by the way, John Lewis have the same model and I reckon I could get them to match this price. With a free five year guarantee."

I stopped talking and watched the cogs whirring in his head. He obviously believed I could get John Lewis to match the reduced price. He knew they were offering the free 5 year guarantee. He could see from my face that I was quite prepared to drag my friend out of the shop, with her cash still clutched in her hot little hand. He crumpled slightly, swallowed with a little gulp, and caved in.

"Okay, we'll throw in the warranty as well," he muttered, looking like a man who'd just shredded a winning lottery ticket. They had the cheek to ask for an extra £25 delivery charge, but we had planned ahead. My friend wasn't driving her car, she had her husband's van. The TV fitted rather nicely in the back, secured with a bit of bungee cord.

We went back to hers with our prize and her hubby was thrilled at the bargain. My friend's reaction? "Well, it was a bit of a red face when you started haggling with the guy," she stated. I was absolutely blazing mad, ffs that was the only reason I went with her! I stormed out and went home. She did phone me later to apologise.

It hasn't put me off and I've got various discounts/freebies for friends and relatives who are thankfully a little more grateful. Always chance your arm, you never know your luck.
(TheWeeWitch hasn't been here much recently .., Fri 24 Oct 2008, 16:14, 16 replies)

For those too cheap to get the real thing...
I'm sure that by now everyone on here has seen, at one time or another, ads for... well, silicone substitutes for parts of the human anatomy. So even the laziest, grottiest guy can get his jollies off without actually having to find a human being (or animal) willing to comply with his desires.

Needless to say, aside from the squick factor of such things, there's also the expense. Fleshlights aren't cheap. So now there are DIY substitutes out there.

The latest one I've seen consists of a chunk of bicycle inner tube and some twist ties and a few rubber bands. Apparently you use a twist tie to close one end, slip it over your member (after you've filled it with something to act as a lubricant), then put rubber bands around it. You use more twist ties to achieve the proper snugness, then go to town.

They're called Tie Twats.

I beat Pooflake to the first crap pun of the week! Yay!
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Fri 24 Oct 2008, 16:07, 5 replies)

The richer you are, the tighter you are.
Back in 1998 I had just turned 16 and finished school for the summer. I walked into this guys computer shop and asked for a job. I did a days work for him and he drove me home in his high end Merc. This guy was proper loaded. His shop was just a front end for bigger things.

We had somehow got into the conversation of tight bastards. He said "You know, the richer people are, the tighter they are." And he was absolutely right! He thanked me for my days work and said that I had really impressed him. He then pulled out what must have been 3 grand in cash from his pocket and gave me a fiver.

Cheers! Lesson learned well!
(Miggyman, Fri 24 Oct 2008, 15:58, 2 replies)