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This is a question Twattery

Nigella Pussycat says: Tell us about utter twats doing remarkably twatty things. Or have you ever done something really twattish to a friend, loved one or pet? In summary: Twats

(, Thu 12 Apr 2012, 13:30)
Pages: Popular, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1

This question is now closed.


When 2 lanes of traffic merge into one due to road works – everyone queues, but there’s always the croissant eating bellend in his BMW/4x4 who comes flying down the empty lane, straight to the front of the queue and barges in – because he’s obviously got somewhere more important to be. Twat.

The bloke at the bar who orders his round by asking for each drink individually, then asks how much they are and what flavours of crisps they sell. Twat.

The bloke at the petrol station who sells everything for at least 20% above the normal retail price. Twat.

The people in the supermarket who stop with their trolleys in the middle of the aisle for a ‘chat’. Twats

Simon Cowell. Twat.

People who are convinced they can talk to the dead… and make a living from it. Twats.

Robert Mugabe. Twat.

Ticket Touts. Twats.

The British Drinks industry for peddling stuff like: Fosters, Carling and other crappy lagers while other countries have beer to die for. Twats
(, Mon 16 Apr 2012, 7:43, 12 replies)
I'll tell you who are twats:
those twats off the twatting BT adverts about that twat and his incredibly tedious fucking twat life where he won't stop going on about his twatting broadband connection to that generically pretty twat and the other twat that plays the bass. ARE WE SUPPOSED TO CARE ABOUT THEIR SAD TWATTING EXISTANCE??? BECAUSE WE DON'T. FUCK OFF, BT ADVERTISING BOARD.

(, Mon 16 Apr 2012, 1:43, 6 replies)
Jordan turned up at work once and everyone went skitzo
''omygodomygod...I'm going to try and take a piture ssqquueeee!!''
The boss demanded hardcore brown nosing from everybody, she had to have the best service, fuck everyone else
It made me sick. The queen of twats famous for her twat, being praised by all her twat minions.
(, Mon 16 Apr 2012, 0:25, 2 replies)
my old boss.
Did lots of twattish things.

We all went on a bender after work till about five in the morning he was in a particularly good mood bringing in the shots laughing and rolling fatties. The next morning I woke up feeling like shit I had a shower trudged to work arriving ten minutes early. It was mid week so we had next to no customers. Oh joy I thought, I'l just serve the customers and in between a bit of light cleaning..nice and easy. Then he walks in ''alright how you feeling, good night e?'' He ignored my question frogmarched me into the storage room and said ''right roll up your sleeves get up that ladder and clean all the lights'' Fuck me that's not what you want to do the morning after. About ten years worth of grime and I even had to sweep up dead flies with my hand.

The same bloke (with a girlfriend of 7 years) had a one night stand with my co worker. Who is an absolute darling, but at the time very unstable. She was coping with having to pay a 900 quid debt that her ex got her into and her sister was seriously ill. She was absolutely besotted with him. After a bit of flirting they shagged. She woke up and he wasn't there. At work he pulls her aside said he was sorry it was a mistake and he still really loved his girlfriend. There after he started to really bully her at work. I mean really bully. Shouted at her for silly things, told her to sort her fucking hair out it looked a state. He found out she had very mild bi polar (she confided in him) To which he took to his boss and they had to arrange a meeting talking about 'her illness and how it might affect work'.

He also 'forgot' to tell the polish/Hungarian and Spanish workers' there work rights (IE breaks) So they usually worked 12 hours straight with out a break.
(, Sun 15 Apr 2012, 23:28, 3 replies)
I am enjoying this weeks question.
It seems to have brought the best out in everyone.
(, Sun 15 Apr 2012, 23:22, Reply)
Playing 20 questions on a staggeringly dull motorway journey
I had chosen an animal. "Is it bigger than a badger?" family ask. "Yes" I reply.

They never got it.

The animal in question was "A very fat badger", which I still maintain is bigger than "a badger".

They now refuse to play 20 questions with me.

Edit: Shit and fuck, I would have to get that word wrong...
(, Sun 15 Apr 2012, 23:03, 7 replies)
I'm surprised nobody's mentioned
Those mongs who get a trolley outside the supermarket then stop in the entrance for a long chat. Then, having tired of that they park the trolley across each aisle as they pick what they want. THEN they get really annoyed when I barge their trolley out of the way with mine . . .
Twats, every twatting one of them.
(, Sun 15 Apr 2012, 21:59, 3 replies)
[Something about QOTW]
(, Sun 15 Apr 2012, 21:36, 2 replies)
You know when your basically a twunt on massive drugs and you literally do a face palm?
Just sayin'.
My bad.
(, Sun 15 Apr 2012, 21:18, Reply)
Tony Blair of New Labour?
Tony B LIAR of New LIEbour, more like!
(, Sun 15 Apr 2012, 15:47, 13 replies)
I just told a bunch of interweb dweebs about my wood-fired oven.

(, Sun 15 Apr 2012, 15:29, 5 replies)
I think I have the master twattery story. His involves someone I used to know, not me.
I used to know a tiny little Japanese lass. On New Years Eve 1999 she was walking home at about 3am. A guy comes up to her and says that he thinks she is beautiful and he's going to a party and would she like to come. She says no but the guy keeps persisting. As she tries to walk away from him he grabs her by the hair and then the throat. He starts to drag her away from the street and into a dark alley.
At this point her arms are flailing in ineffectual punches. He gets her towards the alley (as far as the side of the road) and she stops flailing.
She was only doing that to see if he was armed. Her father was a martial arts instructor and had been teaching her since she was about five (actively practising for over 25 years). She then proceeds to kick the living fuck out of the twat and leaves him in a crumpled heap in the middle of the road.
She did this to such an extent that the guy called the police and claimed that she'd attacked him. The police find her, she explains, they check the CCTV cameras, the guy goes to prison.
(, Sun 15 Apr 2012, 14:45, 4 replies)
Many years ago, as I was approaching Stanstead airport where i was to catch a flight to Dublin for some awards ceremony, I received a frantic phone call from Ireland begging me to find some Cristal Champagne for some diva who wouldn't drink anything else. They had scoured the fair city to no avail.
Off to duty free, no Cristal. They had everything else; Mumm, Bollinger, Dom P. No! It had to be Cristal!
What could I do?
I bought her a case of Newcastle Brown Ale.
I was called a twat when i turned up with it at her dressing room.
(, Sun 15 Apr 2012, 14:38, Reply)
I got arrested one time
for parcel taping a mate to a tree, about four feet off the ground. This wasn't the twattish bit, that was just a jape, he was in good spirits about that, but then some utter cunt came and started belting my mate in the face, when he was clearly defenseless because he was taped to a tree. I mean, a joke's a joke, but that's just being a total twuntbag. I got arrested as a party to assault but they let me off because my mate stuck up for me, fair play to him.
(, Sun 15 Apr 2012, 13:45, 2 replies)
DIY twats
Reposted from 4 years ago.

I bought a house in tropical Queensland, lovely old place, built about 1925, all good timber and a veranda out the front. The kitchen and bathroom had been modernised decently but apart from repainting, the rest of the interior was original.

There were gorgeous skirting boards with ogive tops and matching architraves. Fretwork ventilators above the genuine 3-panel doors, a picture rail and really high ceilings. I scoured local lighting shops for fittings that were close to 1920-ish and got a vintage looking ceiling fan. I took the brass window latches off the 8-pane windows, cleaned off years of tarnish and paint splash, polished, lacquered and put them back on freshly painted windows. Lovely.

A few years later I moved away, then when passing through the town called in on old neighbors. While I was there the third set of owners after me called in. So I used to own No. 31? Well, yes. Oh, we have been doing some work, come in for a look.

They'd ripped out out the lovely old skirting boards, the architraves and the picture rails and sheeted over the timber wall boards with featureless plasterboard. The 8-pane hinged windows that caught every stray breeze were gone, replaced by sliding aluminium framed panes that caught nothing. The interior looked like it had been built the week before.

Some twats don't got no taste at all.
(, Sun 15 Apr 2012, 3:26, 17 replies)
It's superglue
Bloke comes into the art shop I work in and says "Cyanoacrylate."
"Sorry?" I say.
"Cyanoacrylate, or you might know it as Superglue?"
Right, so you want superglue. "Just down there on the left, sir."
"Hmmm, yes this is superglue. Not quite the viscosity I was looking for but beggars can't be choosers."
Behind the counter, I am imagining new uses for cyanoacrylate.
(, Sat 14 Apr 2012, 22:45, 22 replies)
I once lent Tony Slattery a battery whilst on my way to a cattery in Slattery; he deigned not to thank me; which I consider an act of cuntishness.
(, Sat 14 Apr 2012, 21:34, 2 replies)
Back when I used to work in a pub a guy told me a story about a local guy who got drunk and loudly announced that he was going home to hang himself.

But he lacked any rope and kept asking people in the pub to find him a rope so he could go home and hang himself. Most people ignored him, but one enterprising chap told him he had a rope in his car.

So the drunk guy asked him for it but was told he would have to buy it off him for about £50.

He said '£50 for a rope?!?'

'Well what do you care, you won't be needing your money will you?'
(, Sat 14 Apr 2012, 20:09, 3 replies)
me and all of my friends are twats, but we're proud of it and don't care who knows. we don't do much during the day but at night we really liven up, and you can often hear us zooming around telling anyone who'll listen how proud we are to be twats, with our favourite cry of 'twat - woo! twat - woo!'
(, Sat 14 Apr 2012, 19:03, 2 replies)
"Tell us about utter twats doing remarkably twatty things."
1/ Twats posting twattish questions on an increasingly shrinking and irrelevant mongboard which used to be ok[ish] back before said twat was born.

2/ Twats responding to twattish questions.

3/ Twats responding to 2/

4/ This question is now closed, you twats.
(, Sat 14 Apr 2012, 18:53, 30 replies)
people who perpetually say the following:
I'm not being racist but...
They're just being PC ( followed by a sneer)
It's health and safety gone mad
Everythings so expensive nowadays its ridiculous!
Four quid a pint?! You know its cheaper to drink at home??
Things where a lot safer back then.
(, Sat 14 Apr 2012, 17:42, 40 replies)
Stupid ID requirements in bars/pubs
Take one bar in Leicester, visiting a friend. They have an over-25s policy for serving alcohol. This in itself is deserving of a twattery award, as much as the supermarkets who ID anyone who looks under 45.

I am 24, but look 30; I work too hard, don't sleep much during the week, don't really shave, and spend most of my pub time with 30+ year olds. I have even been called 40 (perhaps another, less interesting story for twattery...).

I ordered a pint of beer. The barman - who looked about 14 - started pouring, then contorted his face and said "do you have any ID?". I never have ID on me; I don't drive, and my passport is left in the office as I need it for some bank transactions at work.

I put up a (polite) protest, and the barman then asked his supervisor, who accepted I looked 24, and was, beyond all doubt, 24 years old (and this, one would assume, over 18) for the purposes of any transaction. The twattery begins in full now; they refused to serve me on the basis that their policy was 25+. TWATS!

Moral of this story: I should have lied about my age.

tl;dr: the increasingly stringent policies pubs put in place in the hope they will curb underage and/or binge drinking.
(, Sat 14 Apr 2012, 17:35, 25 replies)
I'd only had it a week
Finally plucked up the courage to get my own car last month. I do a lot of driving so wanted something comfortable but small enough that I don't need more mirrors than the Hubble space telescope to park it.
So my new vehicle of choice is a Citroen C3.

As the title suggests I'd had it a week, was driving to my sisters new house, with the dog staring intently at other drivers and some good music on the radio. All is good with the world. Then we hit a bit of traffic (not entirely unusual in Birmingham), however not I have had the bad luck to be slowing down opposite a T junction (traffic is still moving at this point) and the guy at this junction clearly thinks he can just pull out. Which he does. Into me.

Dog damn near shits herself, I need a new change of pants. Adrenaline takes over and I jump out to see the damage ( rear drivers side passenger door well and truly dented) and to confront the cockend that hit me. I was less than lady-like - I called him every name I could think of.

As far as I was concerned he was a twat for hitting me (the dog is still a bit skittish getting in the car), but what topped it for me was his response:

"I'll admit full liability if you admit to swearing at me."
(, Sat 14 Apr 2012, 14:20, 6 replies)
People who interpret 'people doing remarkably twatty things' as 'minor petty grumbles'.
Now that's PROPER twatty.
(, Sat 14 Apr 2012, 14:08, 6 replies)
But I've Got Me Hazards On.....

I'm pretty sure it was a rant by a comedian (smells of Ben Elton) but I never really got the reason why people got het up over people who stick their hazards on - until I started driving.

One of the streets I have to drive up and down, on a daily basis, has parking on the left, a single lane for moving traffic and then a raised, concrete, dividing strip. On the other side of the road, the same. The dividing strip is too high for even my car to mount it (Subaru Forester) never mind a normal saloon. So, if some twat decides to stop, to take a phone call, re-do, their make-up, then you're fucked. You can't move until they do. And, yes, both of these have happened to me in the last two weeks. Phone man, hazards on, was most upset when I got out of my car and told him to fucking move.

"But this is an important call!!!"

But today I found the karma bear bites back sometimes. I was about 10 cars back in a queue. Lead car had stopped, put hazards on and abandoned his car, when a tow truck reversed out of a side street, hooked up flashing car and started to tow it down the street. A dark-suited yuppie came tearing out of the chinese (conveniently located just next to hazard flashing car - what are the odds?) and went running up the road yelling:

"Stop! Stop! That's my car"

They didn't.

But he did get a chorus of honks and jeers from us poor fucker stuck behind him. Twat.

(, Sat 14 Apr 2012, 13:03, 3 replies)
OSH twunttery.
About 3 weeks ago after completing my weekly shopping I approached the smokes kiosk. I ran over some wires coming out of a switch cover that had previously been broken off.
As I usually have a couple of spare covers in my tool box in the car (and it's only 2 screws) I told the person who served me about it but said I would fix it. Sadly I didn't have any spare so I left it.
The following week I noticed it again and after apologizing for not fixing it the week before (I'm a customer here remember) I again pointed it out as a trip hazard.
It really doesn't worry me how this supermarket deals with this but having seen both sides of the "people slipping/tripping over in a Supermarket" situation (I had a mate who genuinely fucked his back falling over an end display & 1 of my sisters-in-law has more than once tried to do the "slip-fall & sue") I felt that I should tell the service attendant about it again.
This week I again noticed that the wires were still loose. This time I asked the checkout chick (the same one from the previous weeks) if there had been an "Incident/Near-Risk Report" lodged and who their OSH reps was & if they were available.
She pointed me to her Store Manager who is also their OSH rep (which is strange - normally managers like to off-load that responsibility to one of their lackeys - like me). I explained the situation to him. I even suggested that about AUD$3 would get me getting a cover plate from the local Bunnings (Hardware superstore) and screwing it on.
But no.
I got handed a ream of paperwork (bearing in mind I'm a customer NOT an employee) to fill out as a customer making a complaint.
Now this job has officially logged as an OSH issue.
Don't you hate OSH nazis?
EDIT: For the un-edumacated, OSH stands for Occupational Safety & Health. There is 1 of us everywhere.

(, Sat 14 Apr 2012, 10:15, 5 replies)
Stag Night
Last night was my stag night, I've have just woken up with a bad hangover and no hair :(

Head shaving Twats :(

* goes back to bed
(, Sat 14 Apr 2012, 10:02, 9 replies)

This question is now closed.

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