A couple of the lads from work....
were on nights in our hangar. They'd been "volunteered" to do the cleanup after the flooding (the one before last). At some point during the night, cue the RAF Police doing their rounds, and checking on the security of all of the buildings (they probably weren't - they must have seen the lights on and wandered in to have a look).

Copper sees no-one around, and proceeds to call out the duty bod to come down and lock the place up. Duty bod explains over the phone that there should be a few people in there cleaning the floor, but he'll come down anyway to find out whats happening.

Upon the arrival of the duty bod, the copper takes him into the hangar to show him that there is no-one around.

At that very moment, two loud screams, and a lot of laughing are heard at the opposite and of the hangar, and it seems to be approaching them.

The next thing they saw was two guys having a race down the middle of the building on whatever they could find with wheels.

One of the guys was using a palletizer as a skateboard, and the other chap was getting dragged along on a swivel chair by a motorised floor cleaner.

Unfortunately we never found out who won.
(Darkpie 3.243F6A8885A308D31319, Wed 26 Sep 2007, 14:30, Reply)

fuck off bitch!
on a drunken holiday in prague, a bunch of us were (drunkedly and loudly) making our way down to the square to go to a club.
en route we bumped into some other friends going in the opposite direction - squealing, shouting and laughing commenced (we were all girls) as we stopped to say hi.
now, in prague there is a law that says that loud public noise is illegal. Also, the locals hate the piss heads that come to prague for stag/hen/student holidays.
We were standing underneath a balcony chatting and being loud (it was also 1am) when all of a sudden - *splash*! And we all started screaming!
Some bitch who was living in the apartment above where we were was obviously pissed off so had flung a bucket of water all over us.
I don't know why she thought that would make us be quiet cos we were all hysterical. Someone shouted, 'Fuck off you bitch!!'
Then, we should have known, a second bucket of water was thrown and like a bunch of wet, shrieking banshees we fled.
(saf, Wed 26 Sep 2007, 14:29, Reply)

Uni-farcity tom-foolery.
Sainsburys in Huddersfield had (at my time at the university) a large revolving door.
We had a the munchies and took our bikes to the store.
The carpark was for some reason, filled with chavs, so we opted not to leave our uninsured steeds outside.

The checkout girl didn't bat an eyelid as 3 of us pedalled up to the checkout and each bought a packed of doughnuts.

The Security bod however got all upset.

He lectured us for a bit until one of the lads pointed out that "Actually, there's no sign to say no bicycles"

We also used to wind up the fella who ran the multi-story carpark by racing up and down the levels on our bikes. Onedayhe even called Plod .. We were expecting them when they arrived abd each had a half-hour's worth of Pay'n Display sticker on our bikes.

We explained that we were legally paying customers wondering where to park our vehicles. Plod giggled, Carpark attendant fumed.

When he explained that there were no places for bikes, we demanded a re-fund... I've never seen 2 bobbies enjoy themselves so much.
( Humpty Dumpty was Pushed Is unaware of having any limits., Wed 26 Sep 2007, 14:23, Reply)

Ooops.
Standing on the corner of a main road in town with some mates, rather pissed and trying to decide where to go next, we were passed by a
police van. Five minutes or so pass and we're all still there, no closer to deciding where to go, when without saying a single word, two
rozzers appear from behind the corner, grab an arm each and lift and carry me backwards towards the van which had re-appeared from the other direction. They chucked me in the back despite my protestations of innocence, saying "we don't like being called wankers" by way of an explanation. My mates were meanwhile, in roughly equal numbers, getting close to being carted off themselves arguing my case or running away. Off we drove, back to the nick.

When we got there, there was a long delay while the desk sergeant fannied about freeing up space or somesuch, during which time I managed to remain sober enough to whingingly convince them that it wasn't in fact me that had been insulting them. I also managed to avoid the booking in routine, pocket search etc., which came in handy during the following... (I had plenty of cash left)

Them: Ok, you're free to go
Me: Great, now, how I am supposed to get home?
Them: Eh?
Me: I have two quid left, which would have been perfectly adequate to use for a cab split with my mates... if you hadn't have hauled me away.
Them: Pay when you get home?
Me: Two quid left for the month, not the night.
Them: Oh. Wait there a minute.

One of them buggers off in the direction of the sergeant, they leave for another room. There's then a lot of muffled shouting and he comes back looking very sheepish, as the sergeant goes back to the desk with red cheeks and a face like thunder. The copper says they are going to give me a lift home, and they do.

The back of the car was piled up with jackets, boots, hats, etc., and I had to squash the pile up to make room. Feeling quite peeved, and apparently not quite as sober as I'd thought, I decided that a nice policeman's hat would need to be added to the rollicking he got from the sarge and the lift home he wasn't obliged to give me, to make it up to a reasonable compensation for the slight of character and loss of an evening. And so, over the course of christ-knows-how-long, I managed to surrupticiously move one from the pile to my footwell, then up the inside of my shirt and get my coat done up without the zip maiing any noise. Yay. Got home, grudgingly thanked them for the lift, and went walked around the back of a house a few doors down from mine in case they were watching. As soon as they disappeared, one of my mates who had been there at the start appeared, seemingly from nowhere - he'd been waiting for me to get back, bless 'im, and had hidden when he saw the rozzers turn up.

Him: Did they charge you for it?
Me: For what? I didn't bloody do anything!
Him: Errr, yes you did.
Me: Eh?
Him: You screamed "Oi! Waaaannnkkeeerrrsssshhhh!" at them as they passed, accompanied with the appropriate gestures and gurning...
Me: Oh.

I felt suitably sheepish until the next day, when it suddenly dawned on me (I ain't always the sharpest tool in the shed) that to be legitimately arrested for being drunk and disorderly, you have to be warned first and ignore the warning. That, and of course be informed you're being arrested, read your rights etc. Two muppets jumping out from behind a corner and carting you off without a word doesn't cut it.

Wankersh.
(misanthrope is so adjective he's verbing nouns!, Wed 26 Sep 2007, 14:14, Reply)

I once got told off by Jo Frost (Supernanny) for mucking up a shot.
It didn't help that I was sporting a very noticeable lob-on at the time, which got even more noticeable during the telling-off.
(FUCK OFF, Wed 26 Sep 2007, 13:37, Reply)

Sat nav
I got told off by my sat nav this morning after I diverted from my route to grab a coffee from a garage.

"Turn around when possible", I was sternly told.

Then my battery died. That shut her up. Bitch.
(quantum raspberry quizzically quashing Quebecans, Wed 26 Sep 2007, 13:14, Reply)

I was stopped by the police for dressing and acting suspiciously.
Happy halloween, Plod.
( Reid got it going on like Donkey Kong, Wed 26 Sep 2007, 13:10, Reply)

Caught by the fuzz but not on a buzz
A few years ago I was Birmingham bound one late Saturday afternoon on a largely deserted M54. I'm no boy racer but as it was quiet I decided to blow the cobwebs off my car by doing a fraction over 100mph.

I glanced in the rear view mirror to see a black motor zooming up behind me at I guessed about 120mph. "Hmm, an intellectually challenged middle aged man flexing his mid range saloon's muscles and overcompensating for being bald or impotent or something", I thought.

The car pulled alongside me and I glanced across to look at the driver who was clearly, so I thought, being a flash harry.

To my horror, the driver was an officer of her majesty's constabulary.

I proceeded to take drastic action to prevent severe and dramatic evacuation of my bowels. My stomach tightened and my heart, along with several other internal organs rose to my mouth.

Awaiting the copper to instruct me to pull over and slap me with a hefty ban, fine and tear me a new arsehole, I looked across once more. Instead, PC Plod slowly and deliberately mouthed, "S-L-O-W D-O-W-N" to me (complete with hyphens), which I promptly did and he shot off at 120mph again.

Ok so it was hardly an episode of CHiPs but it was a very lucky escape for me and a fine example of common sense policing ladies and gentlemen.

I had to wind down the car window to let some fresh air in though. You could smell the fear.
( abefroman skating on the thin life of modern life on, Wed 26 Sep 2007, 12:23, Reply)

Freelander Tosser
Used to be a bloke at work who drove a Freelander. God knows why, he lived in North London (but that probably explains it).

The parking spaces here are tiny and they're all allocated, which meant that I always parked next to Mr Freelander. I used to have to regularly complain about the fact that I couldn't get in my car after he'd parked next to me (I was usually in first). I got eerily intimate with my gearstick from having to climb into the driving seat from the passenger side.

One day, he got in to the car park before me, and was stood next to his car, arms folded, waiting.

With a look of withering disdain, he started with "You do realise, OF COURSE, that the reason you have a problem getting in and out of your car is because you INSIST on reversing into your space, DON'T YOU".

"No" was my answer. "The reason I can't get into my car most days is because (a) your monster truck is about 6 inches wider than the space you're TRYING to park it in, and (b) you seem entirely incapable of parking it in a straight line. OF COURSE, if you had a car that was just a little more sensible for driving in London rather than Snowdonia, and IF you took some driving lessons, then there wouldn't be a problem".

And walked off.

It occurred to me later that the car park is for senior managers and I was the most junior person using it, meaning that he could probably get me sacked if he felt like it....

Never had a problem with him again though.
(Steve The Monkey, Wed 26 Sep 2007, 12:20, Reply)

Right Turn Clyde
A couple of months ago I was doing a right turn onto a busy road. Nobody was letting me out so I took it upon myself to block the carraigeway and manouver myself halfway into the central reservation so I could finish my turn.

Cue some old bloke doing a right turn off of the otherside of the road to go where I just came from and finding the road blocked and us window to window.

Ive never seen anybody loose it so quickly... he instantly turned red and bits of spittle started appearing on his side window. I honestly just laughed so hard in his face and made off quick sharp as there was nothing blocking me, but he was blocked.

I didt get to hear any words but I could just imagine that he was one of those jobsworths who has nothing to do but complain and talk down to people...

He should have given way and let me out and avoided the whole thing...

I still chuckle to myself when I remember this...
(SillyMoo, Wed 26 Sep 2007, 12:12, Reply)

Bus Drivers
Back when I was a pauper and had to use public transport to get around I used to take a route from my estate to the centre of town, which took about half an hour.

Our regular driver was Jeff. I have no idea what his real name was but I christened him Jeff on account of his looking like Jeff Lynn of ELO fame (circa 1978)

Jeff was a miserable bastard, there was no other way to describe it. Whatever nice bone was once left in his body had long since perished and dissolved into a cesspool of hatred and bitterness.

Jeff would never stop at the actual bus stop but a few metres ahead or behind, more if it was raining.

He objected to people proffering him anything except exact change, he even refused to take one female passenger on account of the change she gave him being 'dirty'.

He shouted at people to sit down before he'd stopped the bus, he scanned every bus pass with microscopic detail and refused to let you on if your pass didnt meet his standards of cleanliness and presentation.

Jeff told everyone off as though they were children, I think he had a personality disorder of biblical proportions.

It all caught up with him one day when he refused to let a young female student onto the bus because she 'had too much luggage' and she pepper sprayed him.

Seeing him thrashing about in the drivers seat like a squid in a fishing net had tears of laughter rolling down my face.

She certainly told him.
(Vic Flange, Wed 26 Sep 2007, 11:40, Reply)

More pedestrians
I had a similar experience in a multi-storey car park in Perth a few years back. It's a very tight place to manoeuvre in, and as I was trying to go down the exit ramp I was right across to the cars at one side to give me enough room to swing round. A man walking back to his car started gesticulating at me, so I stopped and wound down the window. I wasn't about to run him over or anything - he was walking towards me beyond the point where I was going to turn left.

"This is for PEDESTRIANS", he whined, indicating a two foot wide strip of dark red painted concrete which was all but invisible in the dimly lit car park, and had no markings on it anyway.

"Whatever", I replied, "And you try driving a big estate car around here without driving on this bit".

Twat.

<sub>I also now feel suitably chastised by the b3ta overlords who deleted a post of mine this morning, presumably because it was trivial and frivolous (which it was). Sorry. I won't do it again. Honest.

[shuffles off sheepishly]</sub>
( K2k6 has a proper job these days, Wed 26 Sep 2007, 11:22, Reply)

I got told off, and then told them right off back!
A few years ago now, I lived upstairs at my Dad's pub, and parked my car at the front, as did many of the customers.

One morning I was pulling out to go to work. This involved crossing the pavement, which had a dropped kerb for about 40 feet so that people didn't bend their wheels.

I was turning right, so I needed to make sure that traffic was clear both ways. Unfortunately there was a rather elderly couple walking one the pavement, approaching me from the right. Instead of doing what normal people would do and move slightly to one side, they carried on walking until they were right beside my car, completely obscuring my view. I was gobsmacked, and sat for a couple of seconds in disbelief.

I had just started to wind my window down so that I could ask them to move, when the man tapped the window and sternly told me "You're blocking the pavement!"

For some reason I lost it at that point and exploded with something along the lines of "Well if you'd fucking move two feet to the fucking left I'd be able to fucking see the traffic and fucking pull out of your fucking way, wouldn't I?!"

With a shocked expression they both moved, I saw the road was clear and drove off.

Now anyone on here who knows me will (probably) know that I'm so not like that normally, but they just really managed to press my buttons that day. I did feel bad though; I still wish to this day that I'd said "Thank you" as I pulled away.

/length
(Professor Kenny Martin Hmm? What?, Wed 26 Sep 2007, 11:07, Reply)

Spaz
Once after a few beers I performed my world renowed spaz impersonation. This is extremely complex and involves all sorts of arm and jumper adjustment. Unfortunately some of the other pub inhabitants were less impressed than my friends who were rolling about the floor wetting themselves. A rather large fella appeared next to me and thoroughly remprimanded me, saying "my daughters in a wheelchair etc. you should think about that"

He had a point and I'd formally like to appologise.

Was fickin funny though.
( arsefez is back, Wed 26 Sep 2007, 10:50, Reply)

*pop* There's that cherry gone...
So hubby and I went camping recently and all was fine until we got to the campsite. The speed limit is 5kph because of all the kids or something. The slowest we can physically go in our car without stalling is about 8kph..

We were following this woman in a 4WD who was doing about 7.. It was all fine until she stopped her car and got out, came up to hubby's window glaring at us with that cat's bum mouth look of a woman with her head firmly up her own arse, fairly bursting with her own self-importance... bla, bla..

She proceeds to tell us off for driving too fast. Keep in mind that we were following her, so logically we can't go faster than she is, right?

She spewed forth a tirade of condescending crap but this is what I remember:

Cat's Bum Woman (In a very fake polite patronising voice): "You know there are kids playing around here, don't you? Slow down. You could hurt someone."

Gobsmacked hubby: "Er.. We're following you..."

CBW (Pissed off): "Well, you're going too fast. See that sign? It says 5. (Sarcastically) Thank you."

And she walks off before hubby can argue the fact that, logically, that means that she's going too fast as well.

Really. 2kph is not going to make much of a difference when your car keeps stalling. Stupid old chav.
(Anaiya, Wed 26 Sep 2007, 10:38, Reply)

copycat violence
My first job after university was in a photocopying shop, or 'reprographics centre' as they styled themselves. One of the most tedious parts of the job was people walking in off the street to copy a passport or certificate or bill.

One day, this horsey toff came into the shop. She had a face that looked like the bottom of a dried-up pond. With make-up thrown at it. And she was so posh that she probably only ever met proles like me if they were in uniform.

She wanted a document copied. It looked like the Magna Carta, but with a staple in the top left corner. So I gentlty folded it over to put it in the machine... whereupon the old bitch snatched it from me with a "Oh, you're a stupid boy, aren't you?" and ripped the staple out herself.

I'd just graduated with a first and wasn't in any mood to be lectured by some polo-playing slag, so I crashed my elbow into her throat and raised my knee into her face as she fell. As she lay gasping on the floor, I put the boot in until the gasps stopped. Then I lifted the copier with superhuman strength and dropped it on her twitching body.

"That'll be ten pence, please," I said to the legs sticking out from underneath.

{Part of this story may not be factually acurate, but I think you can see the sentiment is still raw.]
(frankspencer, Wed 26 Sep 2007, 10:09, Reply)

"You there BOY!"
Thanks to my job, I tend to get 'spoken at' several times in a day. When things go really tits up, being told off by passengers can decend into full on, spittle-flecked shouts of obscenities directly into my face.

(Please bear in mind that 99% of the time, a delay or cancellation has nothing to do with the driver's actions, and we can't do anything about it either.)

A few months ago, I stopped at a station, opened the doors and was looking back watching the multitude file past towards the exit, when a rather 'stout' gentleman (fat b*stard wearing braces and a waistcoat) approached and started shouting. "You, yes you BOY! Now see here, this train has been late three times this week..etc"

He then went on to critise my driving ability, commented on the "sharpness of my braking" and asked how long I'd been driving trains.

Boy? BOY?! I know I look younger than my years - but "Boy" - I was so shocked I couldn't think what to say, but the gentleman in question waddled off in the direction of the car park before I thought of anything witty in reply.

And let's face it, if he really was as important as he made himself sound, he'd be driven to London in the back of a Merc, rather than crammed into a commuter train.
( HSDriver was probably still at work on, Wed 26 Sep 2007, 9:33, Reply)

Reprimanded by a retard
A couple of months ago at work i was bringing a car around from the back compound out onto the yard. We have a side access way to the street next to the yard but to get to the yard entrance a right turn is required into the street (drive on the same side as the uk here). The traffic often backs up at th lights so you can slip behind it or someone will let you out to check that its clear from the left and go.

This particular day i was doing just that slipping behind the stopped cars , looked to the right and a car was some distance away so i carefully pulled forward to look to the left . The next thing i heard was a horn sounding to my right . A quick glance showed that the car that was miles down the road was now up against my door handle. Two things went through my mind first "shit he must of been travelling at some speed down the street" and "whats your fucking problem ? the traffics stopped any way , the lights are still red"


The horn still keeps sounding as i made my turn . As i looked at the driver my first question was answered. The hand stayed on the horn whilst the other was giving me the fingers . Through the open window angry Nuuuurrrrgh Nuuuuurrrrrgh Nuuurrrgggghhh noises could be heard .


Yes he was a retard a genuine window licker someone more than a bit "special".
The fingers and noises continued as i went past him and turned into the yard. By this point tears of laughter were running down my face possibly due to the fact that id watached the movie the ringer the day before. As i got out of the car my coworker was standing watching me wondering what the horn was about.
The first words out of my mouth " Iv just been told off by a tard ! "

It still makes me laugh to think about it now.




legnth ?? on the run from the pc police for 25 years and counting
(welgar, Wed 26 Sep 2007, 8:38, Reply)

can't really be arsed.
I have a "Lady" who's in the chain of command above me... she'a bit large.

Now.. This might come off as a sizist comment, or an anti-fat slur... you may all be thinking "Rounded is good" and you may well be right.. But this lass is big. BIG! Benny Hill in the original Italian job would have cowered in fear.

If she were one inch taller, she'd be perfectly round.

Anyhow.. Size aside, she's a terrible engineer. She has no idea what the project needs and only cares about the time-plan (the rest of us like to actually end up with something that works).... I digress.

She has a horrible habit of putting her hand on your shoulder when she talks. I'm most sure if it's her attempt at "owning" her subordinates or trying to be motherly, but The end result is laughable. This coupled with her VERY LOUD way of talking means that most people just shut up and listen.

Recently she interrupted me by putting her hand on my shoulder and starting to "talk"..

"You're not my girlfriend are you?"
"definately not!!!"
"Then will you PLEASE stop touching me all the time!"

It was made worth while by the fact that her managers were with us at the time. =)


PS... HAPPY BIRTHDAY LEGLESS!!!
( Humpty Dumpty was Pushed Is unaware of having any limits., Wed 26 Sep 2007, 7:31, Reply)

Parents, who needs 'em
I have been told off by plenty of 'other' adults (they tell me I am one, myself, but I refuse to believe it) for talking in movie theatres, or generally being a nuisance in public. I'm usually with friends, so we do the big, clever thing and laugh it off.

What gets my goat is when my parents tell me off for not eating breakfast (they say it's the most important meal of the day, but rarely do they specify what it should be--therefore in my case, I choose coffee and cigarettes) or for not putting my books on the table neatly. Apparently, if the edge of the stack isn't parallel to the edge of the table, it's a crime against humanity.

Though, I've never felt properly chagrined for these, so...

Hurray! Three straight QOTWs I've provided a not-quite applicable reply, let's see how long the trend will go on...
(Rem Sir, why are you thrashing about on the floor?, Wed 26 Sep 2007, 6:29, Reply)

Not so much a telling off as such.....
but a definite heckling and mocking.

A former colleague of mine was recovering from a chest infection. He was attending a performance by comedian Eddie Izzard. As Eddie approached the microphone and opened his mouth to utter his opening salvo of humour, my friend coughed. Eddie gave him a withering look for a moment and then in a mock butch voice said "Big Manly Cough! Grrrr". Hilarity prevailed.
(Seance Trumpet has got no beef with a man enjoying a croissant, Wed 26 Sep 2007, 4:23, Reply)