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This is a question Trouble

This week's theme is 'getting into trouble'. Tell us about the worst trouble you've been in - or about an occasion when somehow you got away with it against the odds.

(, Tue 8 Sep 2015, 14:18)
Pages: Popular, 2, 1

This question is now closed.

I live in York.
It is dull as fuck but fairly picturesque.

The end.
(, Tue 22 Sep 2015, 17:47, 4 replies)
Lets just say that
when someone tells you to stay about from their bins, you better be sure to stay about from their bins.
(, Tue 22 Sep 2015, 15:35, Reply)
Are there any tories you would have sex with?
As long as she didn't speak much, I reckon Louise Mensch would get the job done
(, Tue 22 Sep 2015, 15:18, 26 replies)
Everything north of Cambridge is shit and rubbish

(, Tue 22 Sep 2015, 13:23, 2 replies)
I actually visited York. It was ok.
(, Tue 22 Sep 2015, 12:47, 2 replies)
I was born in Yorkshire
For the first year of my life I lived in Lister Avenue, Balby, best known for being the location of the shop in Open All Hours.

Thankfully, just before my first birthday, my parents moved out of Yorkshire so I have no real memories of the place.
(, Tue 22 Sep 2015, 11:28, 8 replies)
trouble? I'll give you trouble, m8

(, Tue 22 Sep 2015, 8:48, 3 replies)
I threw up in Yorkshire
If you've been there, you'll understand why
(, Tue 22 Sep 2015, 8:18, Reply)
I'm from Yorkshire
Once I had gay sex with Fred Flintsone's best friend.
That's how I ended up in't Rubble
(, Mon 21 Sep 2015, 14:36, Reply)
When I grew up in Yorkshire, I once got trapped under a collapsing building.

That's how I got in't rubble.
(, Mon 21 Sep 2015, 14:15, 5 replies)

When I was a boy of five, for some reason, I wanted to get a better idea of the size of my Dad's willie. I approached from behind when he took a wide stance in order to pee and thrust my head between his legs to get a better view. No, that didn't work out so well.
(, Sun 20 Sep 2015, 23:06, 4 replies)
School trip to Reculver
Geography trip day. Location: Reculver. Probably the most boring word ever heard by a 15 year old.

My dad drove me to school and dropped me off a little way off from the gates. I waved a big wave goodbye, then turned around. After a few steps I glance back - he's going the other way. Turning 180 degrees, I traipsed off on an adventure.

Well, I sat in the park and drew for a bit. Then got bored and went home.

Sneaking around the back, I peered out of a bush to scout out the interior. Shit! That was my mum at the window. Pretend not to see her. Wait, that won't work.

She went ballistic. Turns out the school had called home and everyone started to think I'd been kidnapped. They almost called the police. I felt pretty shetty.

Worst part was my dad drove me to Reculver and I had to go after all. It was as shit as it sounds.
(, Fri 18 Sep 2015, 22:10, 11 replies)
Kirk squirmed uncomfortably in his seat.
"Goddammit Jim, I'm a doctor not a psychic, just tell me what the problem is".
"Well, Doctor its kind. Of. Embarrassing", Kirk stuttered in his usual overly-dramatic way.
"Just tell me man, I'm your doctor."
Kirk sweated profusely, eyes darting around the medbay. "It happened when we. Met. That. Thing. On Magalfa 9."
McCoy pinched the bridge of his nose. He'd warned his captain untold times about putting his cock in green-skinned alien bints, but Kirk was wont to listen. "What have you picked up this time?" he droned. "Drop your pants and let me look."
"It's not the. Woman. That's the problem," Kirk enunced, as he unbuttoned his fly. "But after. Our. particularlyamourouspassion I. ReachedOut. Forsomethingto. Wipe myself clean. And now it's. Stuck."
McCoy had turned his back to pull on some medical gloves, fearful of catching another virulent rash from the captain's log. As he turned around to face the patient, his eyebrows soared so high up his forehead that even a Vulcan would be impressed. "Good God Jim, is that a merkin? Your whole damn area is covered in fur!"
"That's. Not fur, Doc. I'm telling you, that's how I got. Into. Tribble."
(, Wed 16 Sep 2015, 7:39, 17 replies)
I never done it!
I only said I done it so I wouldn't have to eat any more of my own poo.
(, Tue 15 Sep 2015, 21:34, 6 replies)
Not relevant but can everyone go and give this a click please

Thx bbz xxxxx
(, Tue 15 Sep 2015, 19:21, 5 replies)
Where's that dick with his other unfunny in-joke stories?

(, Mon 14 Sep 2015, 17:04, 14 replies)
A load of us all gathered round at rachelswipe's flat one evening and skyped psychochomp
It was totes hilare, until he found out it was us.
(, Mon 14 Sep 2015, 15:29, 22 replies)
My Erotic Adventures with Jeremy Corbyn by [REDACTED]
I sat on the bed and waited for Jeremy to finish in the toilet.
"Yes, two wipes clean!" he shouted from the bathroom. A big flush followed. He dropped his trousers and sat down next to me and put his hand on my knee. "I love a bit of rumpy pumpy," he said. He proceeded to take off his socks, which had holes in them, and swung me around and started to take my knickers off. After pulling them past my knees, he fainted. A minute or so passed before he regained his composure. "Sorry about that, it's been a while." Straight in he went down on me like a cow chewing on new pastures. I had to tap him on the shoulder to stop. "I hadn't finished down pit!" he quipped then he began to penetrate me, well, as best he could. I received two thrusts of his member before he uttered 'Hezbollah!' a clear indication that he had orgasmed, but not in my vagina. "Sorry, I'm not comfortable releasing my juices into your fanny." He rolled off me, farted, and then fell asleep.
(, Mon 14 Sep 2015, 9:06, 10 replies)
Uh oh
We're in trouble.
Something's come along and it's burst our hymens.
(, Mon 14 Sep 2015, 3:09, 1 reply)
Convention Crimes
A group of young lads rented a room at a fairly high end hotel where a gaming convention was being held. Being somewhat, er, high-spirited lots of illegal substances were present and a good time was being held by all. Then one member of the group, having killed quite a few brain cells, decided to let off a large amount of fireworks inside the bathroom. Which among other things destroyed a toilet and set off the fire alarm.

Being the good natured group always willing to stand up for our mates we of course scattered like roaches when the light is turned on, leaving the drunk/stoned/LSD's/Whatever cause of the uproar to face the music himself. But eventually what little conscious we retained rose up and we came back to help our mate face the music.

The hotel manager had us down in his office in a basement dungeon reading us the riot act and listing all of the charges that will be applied unless we could get our parents to cover the damages.

Unknownst to him while being less than stellar citizens and young males to boot we actually had decent jobs and things like credit cards, bank accounts, checks, etc. When he presented the invoice for the damages (much less than we expected) our reply of "do you want cash, check or credit card" suddenly produced a 180 degree of attitude. In less than a second it went from "you are going to jail, laddy" to "oh, yes sir! We will have everything ready in a few minutes, sir! Thank you for staying with us, sir!.

And they returned all of the drugs. And the 3' high bong.
(, Sat 12 Sep 2015, 5:10, 9 replies)
Louisiana 2
I also had a run-in (well, a few actually) with Louisiana's finest.

Visiting one weekend with a college buddy and his friends outside of New Orleans at the friend's millionaire/drunkard's fathers mansion outside of NO the father stumbled downstairs and declared that he wanted to go into town to see a famous jazz musician playing a local club.

Piling into the Town Car a bunch of young nefarious looking lads and the above mentioned geezer went into town. Whereupon said geezer proceeded to get wasted and try to start fights with various strangers. The bouncers hinted that we should get the geeze out before they called the cops and we all hussled him out. In the back alley he started throwing a fit and one of his sons pined him down and started trying to slap some sense into him.

Then we heard a siren an looked into the lights of a NO police car. The two biggest black men I have seen in my life got out. Realizing that the scene of a bunch of young guys standing around while another young male was slapping the sh*t out of a geezer may not look like the best way to stay out of jail we all stumbled forward blurting out our side of the story while pleading "please don't kill us."

The son beating the father continued slapping him while lecturing "See, Dad? Now the cops are here. Now we are all going to jail. Do you see what you got us into?"

The officers stared silently for about five minutes. Then one of them said "hit him one for me, kid" and both got in their car and drove off.
(, Sat 12 Sep 2015, 4:54, 1 reply)
"Do you know the meaning of 'amoral'?" thundered my headmaster, veins popping out of his forehead.
He looked like John Major during a stranglewank; grey suit, grey hair with a side-parting, ashen skin flecked with the crimson of burst capillaries in his apoplectic rage. I looked back at him, my sixth-form phizzog bearing a punchably smug grin.

"Yes sir, that's why I wrote the letters".

He wasn't expecting a frank confession. For two weeks, boys had been pulled from classrooms at the whim of the Head to be interrogated about a series of letters, published in the local newspaper under the name 'Mrs. Mullet', shaming the school's recent spending policy. Once the rumour mill had coughed up a suspect, I was hauled in for questioning.

"Wipe that idiot smile off your face. You think this is funny?" he blasted. "You've dragged the entire school into disrepute." The vice-head, called in to witness the meeting, nodded his agreement.

"Did I sir? Most of the parents who wrote in seemed to agree with me, that a new boiler was more important than a third cricket pitch".

The headmaster exploded. He screamed, he shouted, he threatened suspension, expulsion, banning me from taking my A-level exams, stripping me of my prefect's badge (as if I gave a single flying fuck about that). I stood facing him, to attention, hands behind my back, outwardly calm but inwardly struggling to keep my sphincter sealed, while he flew completely and utterly off his handle.

"Well?" he finally concluded, staring me down while my own gaze darted towards the dry spittle in the corners of his lips. I swallowed in a desperate attempt to spread some saliva around my own painfully dry mouth.

"Is that your official comment, sir?" I replied, my voice ever so slightly breaking with the forced bravado. "Only the editor has asked me for the story, since you wouldn't return his phone calls."

The vice-head managed to bundle me out the door before the Head had completed the vault over his desk, and as I was frogmarched away the corridor shook with the furious cry of "GODFUCKINGDAMMIT I HATE CHILDREEEEEEENNNNNNN" echoing from the Headmaster's office.
(, Fri 11 Sep 2015, 10:43, 8 replies)
Dear Jim,
Please could you fix it for me to meet Rolf Harris.
(, Thu 10 Sep 2015, 22:28, 5 replies)

(, Thu 10 Sep 2015, 15:20, 3 replies)

This question is now closed.

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