Arseholes who don't place bets before the off.
Fair enough if there's a queue then you can nip on, but it's the twats that dive over you and wave the tickets in the cashiers face, not once, but Every. Fucking. Race.
( Slippery Mick ‏, Fri 13 Apr 2012, 14:53, 2 replies)

I may be out of line here
But i drive a little Ford, and there is nothing more infuriating to me than some oversized Chelsea Tractor using the "PAY AT PUMP" at the petrol station to fill up, then swaggering into the kiosk to pay! i always use these as im too tight to carry cash and so it's easier for me (and everyone else) if i fill up there, remove my card and continue on my merry way.
(Boiled_Tater is not the messiah, Fri 13 Apr 2012, 14:37, 9 replies)

I've met many a twat in my life
but one encounter sticks in my mind, for some particular reason. I certainly met bigger twats than this person, but this one just irritated me in a particularly special way.

A couple of years ago I was doing technical support at the college I work at in the evenings. This basically involved me sitting on reception waiting for people to ask me for help. I would also be the first point of contact for people walking in off the streets. Sadly.

And so, at 6:50pm, a woman walks in to enquire about the courses we run. She was around 40, and your typical sort of middle class privileged hippie type. The conversation went like this:

Me: hi, are you ok there?

Woman: Yeah, what is this place?

Me: We're a media training college, offering course in post production for film and TV.

Woman: Oh right, is there someone I can talk to about courses?

Me: I'll be able to give you any information you need on our film and TV courses, also we have a prospectus here that you can take that has all the information you need in it.

Woman: Who is the head of department?

Me: Richard is the head of department.

Woman: Can I speak to him?

Me: I'm sorry, but he's about to teach a class [our classes start at 7pm]. If you've got any questions about the courses though, I'll be happy to answer them.

Woman: But it won't take a minute. I'd rather speak to him. Can I not just go up and talk to him?

Me: I'm sorry but he's preparing for a lesson. If you'd like to make an appointment I'll-

Woman: He's in the building?

Me: Yes.

Woman: Then I'll just go and speak to him.

At this point she started walking towards the lift. I got up.

Me: I'm sorry, but if you want to speak to him, you'll have to make an appointment. He's literally teaching a class in 10 minutes.

Woman: This won't take 10 minutes.

Me: That's fine, but the reason I'm not letting you go up and talk to him is because A) he's currently preparing for the class he's about to teach, and B) I have no idea who you are. All guests have to be signed in by a student of member of staff before we let them into the building.

Woman: So you're saying, he's up there right now, and I want to speak to him for a minute and ask some questions, but you won;t let me? Have I got that right?

Me: Yes.

At this point she was getting quite agitated.

Woman: Wow. Ok. Wow. That's... OK, fine. You're not going to let me in the building?

Me: No I'm not.

At this point she goes towards the lift again. I have to physically block her path by standing in front of it.

Woman: Why should I have to make an appointment when he's in the building now? Why can't I just go and talk to him now?

Me: I've explained to you why. I'm going to have to ask you to leave the building now please.

She was about ready to boil at this point.

Woman: SERIOUSLY? You're removing me from the building?

Me: No, I'm asking you to leave. but I will remove you from the building if I have to.

Woman: Wow, Ok. Don't worry about it then, I'll leave. I'll go. What's your name please?

Me: Why do you want to know my name?

Woman: If I ask you your name you have to tell it me. I have a right to know your name.

Me: No, you don't. I don't have to tell you anything. You're thinking of the police.

In the most patronising tone of voice I have ever heard -

Woman: Noooooooo, if I ask YOU for your NAME, then YOU have to GIVE it to ME.

Me: No, I assure you I don't. But if it'll make you leave then my name is *PMGT*.

Woman: Right. I'm going now, but just so you know, I'm going to phone back and make a complaint about you. You haven't been very helpful at all.

----

Immediately after this conversation, I sent an email to the relevant people explaining the situation and telling them not to give her the time of day.

She phoned back the next day, and I happened to answer it. She started complaining about me, to me, not realising that it was me on the phone. Her complaints seemed to be "he wouldn't let me do what I wanted to do". I pretended to be someone else and explained, very slowly, that "as we are a college, we have strict rules about people entering the building. You were not willing to comply with those rules so *PMGT* had to remove you from the building. From his account, you were entirely unreasonable when he offered to help and instead tried to actually push past him and essentially force your way into the building, at which point he asked you to leave. I'm sorry, but we will not be looking into your complaint".

The problem here seemed to me that she was the kind of twat that had never had anyone say "no" to her in her life. She came across like a spoilt teenager, despite being around 40 years old (although I dare say she was a lot older, and just looked around 40, as many of these privileged hippie types tend to do...). That combined with the fact that she obviously didn't deem me worthy enough to speak to because I was sat behind a reception desk (despite actually being one of the tutors on the course...). She had clearly walked in, and decided that she was so important that the only person qualified enough to speak to her was the person who ran the whole department. Not one of us lowly scumbags that run the place.

Frankly, I felt embarrassed just to have to engage her in conversation. Had I not been at work, I dare say the conversation would been much shorter, and would have ended with me saying "STOP ACTING LIKE A FUCKING SPOILT BRAT YOU STUPID FUCKING STUCK UP ARROGANT PATRONISING BITCH-COW FROM HELL. GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY FUCKING BUILDING BEFORE I KICK YOU UP THE ARSE."
( PMGT -Bacon., Fri 13 Apr 2012, 14:23, 8 replies)

I'm quite a fan of U2, and think Bono holds an awful lot of wisdom that we should listen to.
They're even better than Coldplay.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Fri 13 Apr 2012, 12:58, 11 replies)

I can kind of forgive this one
because it was twattishness done to a twat.

A couple of years ago there was this slobbish, loudmouthed, lazy prick at work who used to spend most of his time skiving and moaning. He lived for freebies - the only time he ever picked up the phone was to try and get himself invited to parties or lunches with suppliers. We all hated him.

Anyway, one week it was his last Friday in the office before he was off on holiday in the Spain for a week with his girlfriend. He'd been on about this for ages, telling us how it was costing a bomb, but only the best for him, etc. etc. Despite living for freebies, he always liked to give the impression of being loaded, despite the fact he evidently wasn't, and we certainly weren't paying him much.

Anyway. Since it was a nice sunny Friday, the boss offered to take us all out for a few beers on expenses. We decamped to the pub, set up a tab, and proceeded to build up an impressive expense. Twat Boy was also buying drinks for his mate who'd turned up, then got a round of shots in. All of it on the tab. The boss did not look impressed, but said nothing, and let him carry on.

Come 6pm, we're all thoroughly smashed, and the boss stands up to go home. "Right - I better get back or the wife and kill me. No reason for you lot not to carry on though - Twat Boy, give me your card and I'll just ask them to swap it for mine on the tab."

Ashen faced, but not wanting to look like he was bothered, Twat Boy duly handed over his card, whilst the boss headed off home, knowing perfectly well that Twat Boy wouldn't be able to fill out an expense form until he was back from holiday, and was about to head off on his costly romantic week away with a stonking great hole in his bank balance.

It was fucking marvellous...
(SnowyTheWereRabbit the Leporid from Hell, Fri 13 Apr 2012, 12:43, 2 replies)

Served
I had recently awoken from a 24 hour migraine-induced sleep and was feeling pretty shaky. So, I headed off to the supermarket to get some supplies of good comfort food to get my strength back and generally make myself feel more human again.

So there I was, queuing up to pay like any normal person when, from out of nowhere, a pensioner sailed past me as the checkout that was mine by right became free. To make matters worse, the mouth-breather manning it decided to serve him.

Stunned, I walked up to him and politely explained that there was a queue he had just walked past. "Oh, no," he replied, "I never queue. I just take my chances."

Everyone in the queues' amazement grew as I explained patiently that, in this country, we have a system of queuing that he may not have heard of but served the rest of us pretty well. Nope, he couldn't accept that it applied to him.

So, I am sad to say, that in my enfeebled state my customary politeness left me and I explained to him that unless he moved to the back of the queue he would be making a trip to A&E in pretty short order. (Despite his advanced years, he was spritely and I felt that a ruddy good smack in the mouth wouldn't cause him to die, like so many of his kind.)

At this point the twat stepped back with a comment about young people being rude and that I should show respect to my elders.

Finally, my politeness returned and I retorted "Well, by your age I would have expected you to have learned some manners!"

This brought about much laughter from the others in the queue he had insulted by pushing in front of, plus the mouth breather on the till. Humiliated, he retreated and I paid for my shopping like I should have been able to before that twat barged in.
(give it six weeks and it might clear up would like to butter your muffin, Fri 13 Apr 2012, 11:33, 26 replies)

Oh the joy of watching the police busting cyclists jumping red lights
right outside my window at work!

One twat cyclist even suggested that the police should be out catching REAL criminals!

Hahahahahahahahaha!
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Fri 13 Apr 2012, 11:17, 20 replies)

Parking Twat
This is a tale of someone thinking they own a parking space on the queens highway.

Picture the scene:
I am driving to my dear mummy's for Easter Sunday to giveth and receiveth the chocolate eggs that Jesus went on the cross for as is traditional. I spot a ball of paper in the road and think nothing of driving over it as is my want, only for the ball of paper to deliver a spine juddering jolt through my body and deliver what I thought at the time was a fatal blow to my tire.

I pull over and stop the car straight away and go to check the tire which thankfully is intact, so I turn my attention to the paper ball which had attempted to destroy me and my car to see what super material it was made of.

Upon picking it up I discover that to my shock it was not made of paper at all, but was a lump of concrete wrapped in bacofoil, wrapped in a paper sign that said "NO PARAKING!!!!"(Exclamation marks and poor spelling were actually written on aforementioned paper)

To I say was enraged would be an understatement.

So imagine my rage increasing further when I hear coming from the front of the house outside which this car-destroyer is situated
"Oi, what are you doing with my bollard?!"
I spin round to see a mess of a man, a truly horrific spectre of grim ugliness, I then stop looking in the window at my reflection and raise my head to see a little old lady emerging from her house, rolling pin raised, curlers in, Nora Batty eat your heart out.

Apparently the "bollard" is there to stop people parking in front of her house because it spoils her view, SHE DOESN'T EVEN HAVE A CAR AND THE VIEW IS SHIT.
I explain to old lady that leaving rocks disguised as paper in the middle of the road is not appropriate behavior, and that anyone can park on a public road which she disagreed with so I did what any enraged person would do and stole her rock so she could no longer inflict the warcrimes that I had been subjected to!

This displeased the old lady who threatened to call the police, after which I politely told her to fuck off and do one before I stoved her head in with the rock. The tune changed very quickly and she broke down in tears.

I felt like superman.
(Jimmy Large Is huffing Jenkem on, Fri 13 Apr 2012, 11:14, 6 replies)

Chinese people
As some of you may know, I live in China - Beijing in fact, and I like it very much. But the trouble is is that a city that big has an ample supply of twats. How are they twats? Let me count the ways.

1. The people who cram themselves right up against subway doors, preventing people from getting off and snarling up the people flow, in a pathetic attempt to gain some kind of momentary advantage.

2. Drivers who weave in and out the busy roads, snarling up the traffic, in a pathetic attempt to gain some kind of momentary advantage.

3. The people in my office building, who rather than wait for the elevator to be going down will get on when it's still going up, thus ensuring the elevator is full when it shouldn't be, in a pathetic attempt to gain some kind of momentary advantage.

4. The guy in KFC who cut in front and hijacked the waitress, in a pathetic attempt to gain some kind of momentary advantage, while I was deciding which succulent meal to choose.

5. When waiting for a taxi, the people who think standing a few metres further up the road (in a pathetic attempt to gain some kind of momentary advantage) entitles you to the first cab that comes along.

The excuse is always that "China has a large population" or "Beijing is very crowded". This surely though should be all the more reason to display forethought and consideration.

Twats.
(McChinaman banned, Fri 13 Apr 2012, 10:58, 6 replies)

Customer consultation
It was a busy day at the petrol station. I'd chosen my lane, and there were too many people queueing for other pumps - and behind me in the queue for this one - for me to be able to change my mind. No matter. There was only one car in front of me: I could wait a couple of minutes.

It was a family in the car. The driver sidled up to the pump, and got out as if to fill the tank.

He did not fill the tank.

I watched with some amazement as he walked to the little shop, and gazed intently for a couple of minutes at the sweet display, then walked back to the car. He leaned in and said something to the passengers. They said something back. My amazement turned to utter disbelief as he walked back to the shop, selected something from the rack, and queued to pay.

Eventually getting back to his car, he leaned back in to give the sweets to his family. And only then did he fill up, before wandering back to that very same shop to queue a second time to pay.

The monumental arsehole.
( Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Fri 13 Apr 2012, 10:55, 2 replies)

Chavved up Mini driver
If you are going to cut someone up by going the wrong way round a roundabout, you might want to do your observations. As well as missing the 2 ton lump of metal that was already on the roundabout, you also failed to spot the police car waiting to turn on to the roundabout.
This might have made mine and the policemans morning for the easiest collar of the day.
(leemel, Fri 13 Apr 2012, 10:40, 1 reply)

Lost for words
Edited with greater boldness:

People who think there is nothing wrong about watching you with bugfuck googly eyes before making a manic lunge at the slice of flan gently set down before you on the station café countertop, stirring up boiling and drastic untold thirsts to avenge this titbit you collected like a sham Uffizi lording over so many dilettante campus sybarites.
( .Yeti., Fri 13 Apr 2012, 10:07, 1 reply)

Used Car Salesmen
Tw@ts, the lot of them!
( The Lone Groover has mal des nuts., Fri 13 Apr 2012, 10:03, 2 replies)

Mechanic twat
My wife recently bought an new old car from a guy in the paper. It was lovely on the drive home and we parked it in front of the mechanic's shop a couple of doors down from our flat.

Next morning wife gets in, turns the key, engine roars to life then cuts out. She tries again, engine roars into life for a second and dies again. After about 20 attempts she comes to get me, I get in and try, the same thing happens over and over. By this time all the guys from the mechanic's shop have come out to have a look at what we are doing, they are standing in the doorway apparently amused by our troubles.

It dawns on us that we have been ripped of bought a duff car and wasted the best part of £2000. I do the walk of shame and ask the mechanics if they could take a look.

four of them walk over, umming and ahhing, sucking through their teeth, scratching their chins, they open the bonnet, look under the car, lift up the carpets, kick the tyres.

Mech "new car"
Me "yeah, got it yesterday"
Mech "how much?"
Me "£2k"
Mech "oh dear oh dear, did you get a warranty?"
Me "no"
Mech "and now it won't even start?"

By this point his mate can't hold it in any longer and bursts out laughing. I can't see anything funny with the situation, I have just been ripped off to the tune of £2k and my wife has no way to get to work I snap

"look, is it expensive to fix?"

Mechanic takes a long hard look at me and slowly says

"No, See the button on the back of your key? It turns the immobiliser off. Press it"

Twats had realised the moment my wife had tried to start the car that the immobiliser was on but wanted to see how long it would take us to ask for help.

I have never been happier to realise someone was being a twat.
(zaidin, Fri 13 Apr 2012, 9:31, 5 replies)

I once got dumped
by a girl because she 'didn't love me like they do in Disney'.

Bullet dodged.
(Mr Fudge It shouldn't be illegal to have sex with an eagle, Fri 13 Apr 2012, 8:39, 9 replies)

Escalators
People who step off the end of an escalator and stop, blissfully unaware of the 100 people moving inexorably behind them.
(SausageWarrior destination Zululand, come on boys jump in the van, Fri 13 Apr 2012, 8:26, 10 replies)

Story
Yes put a story on b3ta before it was completed e haw
(todj, Fri 13 Apr 2012, 8:21, 1 reply)

Excuse me, I'm very important
After filling up my car at the petrol station, I walked in to the shop to pay. There are two rows of shelves lining the route to the till. I can see a man at the till paying, so I stand approximately 3 feet behind him and wait. I make sure I stand over to one side of the 4 foot-ish corridor formed by these shelves, so that when he turns round, he can get out easily.

He finishes paying and turns round and glares at me. "EXCUSE ME!" he says glaring at the centimetre gap between my right shoulder and the shelves. I meet his glare and slowly swivel my eyes to look at the three foot gap between my left shoulder and the opposite shelving.

I look back at him...more glaring...eyes swivel back to the huge gap I've left...look back at him again...penny drops that I don't subscribe to his own sense of self importance.

This bag-lady's-sex-squirt-gargling genius huffed off, and judging by the increasing pinkness of his chubby neck, not appreciating my "There, that wasn't tricky now, was it?" comment....
(SausageWarrior destination Zululand, come on boys jump in the van, Fri 13 Apr 2012, 8:19, 1 reply)

To the rude and angry man at the M&S Cafe
We had almost finished our luncheon, and were packing up, when you arrived, being angry and rude.

Eschewing the usual pleasantries exhanged at the beginning of a conversation, you chose to angrily snap "Is that your catalogue?" at us.

Believing that for some reason you were interested in the M&S catalogue, perchance to peruse the special offers on knickers, we slid it towards you and said "No, you can have it."

You picked it up, and for some reason this confused you. And made you ruderer and angrier.

You then jabbed at my cup of tea, snapping, "Is this YOUR tea?" My tea sloshed about but, luckily for you, none was spilled. It's a Serious Thing to mess with an Englishman's tea.

I then gathered your drift. You were asking in an angry and rude way if you could share the table with us. But instead of asking in a normal way, you were being a rude and angry tea-sloshing boor.

Realising that you were a rude and angry tea-sloshing boor, I decided to mess with your tiny mind. I summoned up my best plummy English public school accent, and spoke loud enough for everyone else to hear, "I'm sorry, I think you're trying to ask in a rude round-about way if you can sit here. Why don't you just ask if you can sit here politely, and we'll probably say 'Yes'."

Your face began to turn a strange shade of beetroot, and you stammered, "There's no need to be so rude."

I replied, "No, I think you're being rude, but if you ask nicely, of course you can sit there."

Unfortunately, this magnanimous gesture was not taken up. Instead you muttered to your wife, threatening to tip your boiling hot tea over my head. Charming!

You continued to be rude, whilst I continued to ask if you'd like to sit down. Some part of your brain is broken, as instead of sitting down, you continued being angry and rude.

Eventually, we finally asked "Would you like to sit here or not?"

You both replied "No", and we replied "Okay, bye then!", turned away from you, and continued our converation, that you had so rudely (and angrily) interrupted.

You stormed off to find another table, and left your dull-witted wife standing bemused by our table. She confusedly told us that "There was no need to be so rude. You only had to ask."

I corrected her, telling her "No, HE only needed to ask politely." She walked off burbling incoherently to herself.

You eventually, after a few minutes, found another table to sit down, and drank your tea fuming and glaring at me. The other customers were all looking at you and commenting on how rude and stupid you'd been and laughing at you which seemed to be winding you up.

I tried to show that there were no hard feelings by smiling and winking at you, but this seemed to make you even angrier. You were trying to decide whether or not to stand up and come over and make a scene again, and the stand-up-sit-down hovering manouver you were making above your chair as you couldn't decide was so sweet to watch.

We finished our tea, and as we stood up, some normal people came over and showed you how it should be done: "Hello, Are you leaving? Do you mind if we take this table when you leave?" And we smiled at them and told them to feel free, and smiled at you and watched your crimson physog and stand-up-sit-down dance, and the overall effect was that it looked a bit like you were straining to have a poo in your pants.

In retrospect, I think I was a bit of a twat for winding you up...
( Pope Shax XIII uses Visio for picture editing, does it show?, Fri 13 Apr 2012, 5:40, 8 replies)

A she twat
I worked with a girl who was a twat who was about as twatish as you can be without actualy killing some one. We worked in telesales for a well known broadband provider and twatette was good at her job. Every month she got the best sales by a mile, which gave her a massive ego. She was also an ok looking girl, but again ego and over use of make up made it more offputting then anything.

At lunch there was a conversation about ideal partners, genuine conversation went as follows:
Me "Well, I don't have a "type" I'm just looking for a girl who's company I enjoy and I feel a click with."
Twatette *snorted laugh* "Why do you care about personality, all that matters is looks and money."

Another example was a raffle held at work, tickets awarded for every sale made, obviously she had a stupid amount. With prizes like 36"inch 3D TV's blu-ray players and an ipad, obviously she expected a decent prize. She swans up for the draw with her tickets, fanning herself then covering two desks in them. The draw starts with the bigger items and worked back. First up was the TV, she had insisted it would be hers. The number was called and it wasn't her. whole office cheered, not for the guy who got it but the girl who didn't. This continues for the good prizes, until we get to the last prize, an iPod nano, outdated by about 5 years and with a value of about £40, it's pretty much a booby prize in this raffle, and our twatette won, her face shows how gutted she was. A voice* calls out "You could get more money for the paper in the tickets than for that thing." Office laughs, she cries.

Final twat act was her getting a BMW, and acting like it was a luxuary car. Sat at lunch, she turns to me, the only person not to have been told about the BMW yet. "I drive a BMW." She brags. "I drive a Yarris." I reply in an even tone. Her face says it all, she has no idea what a yarris is or if it's better then her car. She changest tactic. "Mine has leather seats." She smirks. "Heated?" I ask. "No..." she responds. "Oh well, I'm sure it's still a nice little run around."

A few hours later she's telling me how much it cost and that she had to use her overdraft, then tells me she is booking an expensive holiday that night. "How are you affording that?" I ask "Overdraft." "Didn't you use that up?" "Last month, yeah." "Have you paid it off already?" "What do you mean?" I then spent an hour explaining how an overdraft works. Her response to the detailed lesson? "Thanks, your not just a freak after all."

The next day she was fired, turns out her sales were from miss selling, lying and downright forgery, adding tsigning up several mobile phones for customers who didn't want or need them.

*the voice may have been me.
(Mong goose, Fri 13 Apr 2012, 3:02, 1 reply)

Is there a limit on twattishness?
Where to begin?

Hmmm... Let's see:

Point the first: Girlfriend of 14 months breaking up with me using a clichéd line (15-love)

Me being gentlemanly and dignified, accepting all reasoning: cool (15-all)

Me going to drown my sorrows at local metal club and seeing extremely recent ex with her hand down Hunky Metal Band Dude's pants: 30-15

Going for a negativity-filled piss, bumping into extremely hot horny American exchange student, buying her a drink and dancing dubsteep manoeuvers with her: 30-all

Taking aforementioned US student home, rogering her senseless and posting 'post-fuckage' naked photos on cheating ex's wall: GAME, SET AND MATCH :D

tl;dr: got dumped, got jealous, fucked.
(Tiktock Beating off flamers with a shitty stick, Fri 13 Apr 2012, 2:33, 14 replies)

i'm an aussie,
so i pronounce it 'TWOT'
(softporn 70's sink fixer, Fri 13 Apr 2012, 2:19, 12 replies)

Two Twats In An Old House
TW1: So, the neighborhood's changed a lot since you moved away?
TW2: Quite a bit! It's nice to be back. Thanks for inviting me over, thanks for the tour of your house, and thanks for the beer!
TW1: This house was built in stages. I want to show you the oldest part of this house. Not to brag, or anything, but we think this kitchen is at least one hundred years old!
TW2: Well, I spent my childhood across the street, and I'm sure there wasn't even a building here until 1974. Sorry about it looking so old!
(Perv With A Dog had his eyes pecked out by scrub jays on, Fri 13 Apr 2012, 1:18, Reply)

Recently at a wedding
A friend of mine, we'll call him The Robot (cos his parents were bastards), just got married. Bloody excellent occasion, the past week everyone's been talking about it, much drinking in the open bar and the inter-family debauchery spread across a manor house in Wales called for some particular odd walks of shame the next morn'. A truly perfect occasion.

One aspect has not been spoken about. For The Robot was a bit of a twat on the day. Only one isolated incident.

During his main speech, with all the thank-you's and teary eyed mothers, before any of the champagne had started to flow, The Robot made a small polite joke - something about being a naughty teenager.

"Oh well, I wasn't as bad as I could have been." Then *he does a Nazi salute*.

He then turned to the best man, thanked him, sat down and somehow...no one said a thing.

Not really a twattish thing in hind-sight, just thought I should share.
(MrTeapot hasn't played with himself since, Fri 13 Apr 2012, 0:07, Reply)

I saw Julian Assange on the train.
He's a twat.

He tried to stop his biography from being published by withdrawing his permission after he discovered it wasn't going to shower him with glory.

That is twattish behavior.
(Woodlouse say it with flowers. Send her a Triffid, Thu 12 Apr 2012, 23:48, Reply)

If you wear one of those floppy cloth bag hat things on your head
you're a twat.

Unless you're a rastafarian.
( MisterPunch did it that way on, Thu 12 Apr 2012, 23:05, 3 replies)

Twat Gets Rightly Served
Many years ago, the ex-Misses and I were driving on the freeway from Canberra to Sydney. The speed limit here is 110 kmh, and I was probably doing 120, 125, in the right hand lane. Suddenly, up behind me appears Mr. Twat in his Twatmobile, flashing all of his headlights, superbright driving lights, and blasting on his horn. I get around the truck I was overtaking, then pull into the left hand lane. Twatty roars past in his bright red beemer - it was a 7-series wank mobile...

Several miles up the road, I see some flashing blue lights over on the side. What is it - nothing but one of NSW's finest highway patrol cars, with Mr. Twat and his beemer parked on the verge with him. Payback's a bitch....

It put Mrs. Maclir and I in a proper mood - cheered us up no end, and when we arrived at the hotel we were staying in Sydney, we celebrated the overall karma of the universe with some good, old-fashioned rumpy-pumpy.
(Maclir, Thu 12 Apr 2012, 21:28, 3 replies)

I know a guy called Terry and he is a twat.
Do I win a prize?
(dozers, do fuck off ur a nob m8, Thu 12 Apr 2012, 21:22, 23 replies)

My Fuckwittery, Part 745 of an Ongoing Series
I'm not really 'into' cars. Hence when I bought my most recent motor a few years ago, it was my first experience of central locking. The salesman was very helpful, guiding me through all the features, including this whizzy new remote-control technology.

He showed me the car-key, which also sported these two magic buttons. He then explained;

Him: "So you push this one to unlock... *press* *whirr* *flash* *click*"
Me: "Wow!"
Him: "And this one to unlock... *press* *whirr* *flash flash* *click*"
Me: "Wow!"
Him: "Now, when the battery gets low, you'll find that you need to hold the button down a bit longer. That's how you know it's time to change the battery"
Me: "Gotcha. Agh! Hang on though! What if I don't get around to changing it, and it goes totally flat?! What if it goes flat when I'm away from home and nowhere near the spare key or a battery shop?!?!"
*salesman looks at me*
*salesman looks down at car-key*
*salesman looks back at me*
*salesman looks back down at car-key*

*awkward silence*

Him: "...Then you'd put the key in the lock and turn it."

Me: "Oh.. Yeah..."
(costas, Thu 12 Apr 2012, 19:37, 9 replies)