I visited a girl I knew by the coast. Her husband, who I hadn't met was a yoga teacher and had his own yoga centre
We picked them up outside the yoga centre. While my car was idling, a stray dog ambled out close to it. The yoga husband lashed out at it with a huge kick to the ribs that lifted the dog off the ground.
That one act of utter twatishness was enough to permanently consign him to the twat section of my mind with a lifetime membership. He's since made overtures of blokey friendship to me on occasions circumstance has put me in his presence, but I won't have a bar of him, the dog-kicking cunt.
( cumquat may will not be commenting further on the allegations, Tue 17 Apr 2012, 16:03, 3 replies)

My ex Boss the work-shy Lying twat.
Once took a sudden call from his wife announcing that she'd written her car off and had just been rushed into hospital with her 2 kids. Therefore I'd have to go conduct his sales presentation on my own as he had to rush to her side.

His wife was spotted the following day in her car, showing no signs of any damage.

This was when I first discovered from my colleagues that he was a work-sky lying twat of the highest order. Although I think they may have called him a Cunt.
( Airman Gabber Living life like a 70's BBC presenter, Tue 17 Apr 2012, 15:21, Reply)

Other people

(beebolbod for those that are hard of hearing - LISTEN, Tue 17 Apr 2012, 15:12, Reply)

Pepipoo
Anyone seen it? It's a website dedicated to getting people off speeding tickets, haunted by blokes-down-the-pub and barrack-room lawyers encouraging gullible mugs to try defences which will have no effect other than to have the magistrates reaching for the Vaseline of Vengeance and the Rubber Glove of Retribution.

It's good for a laugh when you're bored, but for god's sake don't even think about taking advice from the deluded fantasists there. I expect there are prisoners staring glumly at the walls of the sub-Saharan hell hole where they are due to spend the next fifty years thinking "What went wrong? That bloke was so sure I'd get off the three points at Penge Magistrates' Court."
(ubergeekian, Tue 17 Apr 2012, 15:01, Reply)

Some bloke in a queue when I used the plural of 'cappucino' in conversation tutted.

( Amorous Badger NAKED BEA ARTHUR PHOTOS 4U, Tue 17 Apr 2012, 14:45, 5 replies)

Fixed speed bikes
Fixies can look cool, clean lines, retro, a challenge to ride.

A fixie rider crashed into the old lady on the Pentonville road in front of me last week. He had stripped the brakes off his bike too which is illegal, dangerous and stupid. This makes him a twat.
( Anthropos Was making beer on, Tue 17 Apr 2012, 14:33, 4 replies)

I know,
I know, another shopping 'twattish cunt' story

But really women, when you are walking around a shop, during a busy period, like Xmas. Realise there are people behind you also walking in single file through the shop, and you cant simply "stop" because something has caught your eye. I WILL end up headbutting you through no other reason than the 15 other people cant stop as quickly as you and are now doing their best at becoming 'lucky pierre'.

Do what i do, and look behind you first.

Having a pram is no licence to go where you please and when ever you like.
(Dan dan dan They tik urh jerbs!!!, Tue 17 Apr 2012, 13:49, 5 replies)

I'm going to The Hoxton Bar & Grill tonight.
If that doesn't make me a twat on it's own, I suspect it will give me a day full of stories to tell tomorrow.
( scarpe We Stole Bikes, Tue 17 Apr 2012, 13:37, 4 replies)

Some twat in the V&A...
was queuing in front of me and ordered "two cappuccini". I just looked at him in disgust. I mean, great, you pluralised an Italian word with the correct Italian form. Fan-fucking-tastic you massive twat. Now go home and test your pasta by throwing a lone spaghetto at the wall and seeing if it sticks, or going out and drawing a single graffito on the wall. Fuck it...why stop there? Let's go out and order multiple pizze? We don't have to eat at one place...we could try a number of ristoranti. I do like my seafood, maybe we could order squid? Oh, you only have one calimaro for the table? Better try the octopodes. Is that a paparazzo over there taking a photo of Brangelina?

Massive wanker.
((V)(;,,;)(V) Whoop whoop whoop!, Tue 17 Apr 2012, 13:28, 17 replies)

Fire & Forget reminds me - gigs
Went to see Natacha Atlas. For those that don't know, she's a very pretty French-Egyptian lady, who sings that Arabic sort of wailing stuff, and both her singing and her are absolutely lovely. In the 1990s she fronted a digi-dub dance band called Transglobal Underground, and they were ace, and where my story starts, they were supporting her (by then the two were separate entities) at Hackney Empire, recently (then) refitted to contain state-of-the-art sound systems for live performance.

TGU play a smashing set, and then steadily drop down in tempo and volume, as the lights lower, and the crowd anticipates Atlas' arrival.

She comes onto stage in a hooded gown, and starts singing imperceptibly softly, building up slowly, accompanied only by bass and hi-hat. It's mesmerising and the audience are transfixed at the subtle beauty of her voice, the colours of the lights, and beautiful atmosphere of the song.

Four or five people away to my right and behind, a cockerney voice loudly pipes up, "OH FER FACK'S SAKE THIS IS ALL VAT FACKIN' PAKI TAXI DRIVER MUSIC INNIT? FACKING CANTS!"

----

New Model Army gig, early 1990s at Shepard's Bush Empire. For those that don't know, it's a theatre-turned-music venue, and as such has all the classic rows of seats, and tiers, including the gods. Sadly I'm in the gods, but hey ho.

The place is rammed with goths, punks and crusties of various orders, all having a beer and a lovely time. It was when you could smoke in the bar, and of course a couple of cheeky ciggies were being smoked while in seats.

ONE security guard is running up and down "Put that out, sit down, you can't drink that, go to your seat, no smoking, move that ... "

When the band came on, the entire audience stood up to hail them, and said security guard continued to run up and down trying to tell everyone to sit down.

Kudos to him for trying, I suppose.

---

Massive Attack, Shepard's Bush, 2009. So packed friend and I are sitting in the aisle. This is cool with everyone.

They start playing Angel.

Just as it gets to the drop; "Love you love you loveyouloveyouloveyouloveyouloveyou" bloke squeezes between mate and I with fucking beers from the fucking bar "SORRY LADS MIND IF I GET THROUGH THERE?".

---

White Lies, last year, Shepard's bush. The band come on, start playing, we stand up, start boogying, the couple behind us angrily tell us to sit down. We tell them to sod off. He goes to get the manager, comes back with the manager, absolutely everyone but the girlfriend is standing up dancing, she has an absolutely desperate look of nonchalance on her phisog.


Other people shouldn't be allowed to go to gigs.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Tue 17 Apr 2012, 13:05, 10 replies)

Anyone who describes a man as "metrosexual"
I actually had the misfortune to work with the person credited with inventing this word*, and had to spend the entire time sitting on my hands to prevent myself from punching her in the face. It really winds me up - "heterosexual" means "opposite attraction", "homosexual" means "same attraction" but "metrosexual" means "they look after themselves" rather than "they fuck cities". It's just arse-clenchingly retarded. There are plently of words for a man who looks after himself already, like peacock, fancy dan, dandy, fop, mac daddy or coxcomb.

Don't even get me started on "chocaholic".

* and she was thick as absolute fuck, to boot
( emvee cruor deo cruoris, Tue 17 Apr 2012, 12:47, 13 replies)

Ex gf
Lied, lied and lied to me. Ran off with a knuckle dragging, idiot cunt squaddie and fucked off with 700 quid that I gave her to get out of debt (she was a student and a spoilt bitch who had no money sense), which she went on holiday with, with said squaddie. The twattish part of this is she even denied it when I found out! I Had evidence which she said wasn't true and people had made it up (looking back she was seriously fucked in head)

This went on behind my back for 6 month!

Sorry for ranting just needed to scream at the world, it's been locked up inside for too long, feels fucking bang on to get this out!!!

Thanks
(Pennisons Revenge All this trouble over squealing meat, Tue 17 Apr 2012, 12:35, 9 replies)

Wavy Lines
I don't need a sub-primary school phrase to understand that your story is set in the past. If your ability to set the scene is limited to 'wavy lines', then I can be assured that the rest of your story will be dull as fuck.

Semi-literate, unimaginative TWATS.

See what I mean:

b3ta.com/search/answers?q=wavy+lines
( Albert Marshmallow is a completely irredeemable cunt, Tue 17 Apr 2012, 12:32, 10 replies)

People who (when walking through town / city centre) stop for no reason.
Pricks.





Length? It's been a while, so be gentle & lube up first.
(stonersmurf stuckin' foned, Tue 17 Apr 2012, 12:14, 1 reply)

anyone who says 'ironical'
( enoughblueskyforsailorstrousers, Tue 17 Apr 2012, 12:00, 11 replies)

A further pearost, as it seems I really am a twat.
Subtitle: How I ruined my sister's 40th birthday.

My sister recently celebrated her 40th birthday. All and sundry were invited, and the main living room of her house (no bigger than the Great Hall at Hampton Court, or maybe Wembley stadium) was converted into a function room. Lots of tables with white linen and flowers, hired in caterers and waitresses (did I mention my sister is loaded, the bitch?) and (and here my downfall starts) rather a large amount of wine.

This was the first problem, as I do like a drop or two of tasty, tasty fermented grape juice. The second problem is that I was seated next to my brother in law. We have a rather unfortunate relationship, i.e. we are far too similar. We both have an inappropriate sense of humour (might tell the "guffawing at uncle's funeral" story later) and have a disconcerting habit of trying to make the other laugh at bad times.

Now, the meal had been consumed and we were all sitting around repleat. My sister made a speech, my dad proposed a toast, and all that was to happen was for the cake to be brought in before the tables were cleared away for the evening's partaaying.

Here's where things went downhill.

My sister's daughter was 11 at the time and had just taken up the viola. Now, she had decided that as the cake came in she was going to play "Happy Birthday" on the viola from the minstrels' gallery type thing which overlooked the living room (in point of fact, it used to be a hayloft but now converted for this porpoise.) Anyhoo, as the cake came in, everyone gave rapt silence to my niece as she started playing.

Unfortunately, my niece did not know the difference between a major and a minor key, so this version of Happy Birthday was particularly bleak, as if to suggest that this would be the last birthday my sister, or indeed any of us present, would enjoy. By the third bar I made the fatal error of looking over at my brother in law to see an expression on his face that I imagine mirrored my own: a grim set jaw with a spastic twitch at the corners of his mouth as he was desperately trying to prevent spontaneous lolz-combustion. I was biting hard on the inside of my cheek imagining dead kittens and suchlike to prevent the laughter, suddenly becoming focused on the flower arrangement in the centre of the table.

So far, so good. I could lose my laughter in the applause that was soon to come.

Unfortunately...

Three things happened. First of all, my niece fluffs about the 5th to last note. Now, anyone who has experience with stringed instruments knows that they do not suffer errors gladly, and a high pitched *SCREECH* was the reward. Secondly, my brother in law turns to me, and the unmitigated cunt raises his left eyebrow in a Roger Moore-esque expression of humour. Thirdly, the music ends, and there is a split-second delay before the applause, during which time I am heard to all and sundry to make a noise like a freshly enema'd goose as the laughter explodes. This causes:

1: everyone around me to look at me like I had just raped a small kitten.

2: My niece to run off crying.

3: Me to dissolve into uncontrollable fits of laughter to the point that I feel my jaw is about to drop off.

I'm such a cunt.
( Undercovercarrot got done for gross misconduct on..., Tue 17 Apr 2012, 11:22, 16 replies)

Has anyone mentioned Facebook Users?
I don't mean the ones who connect and keep in touch with people they actually know, I can understand that. It's the ones who connect with friends of friends (repeat ad naseum) or, in fact, anyone...twats.

Then there's all the pictures people take of themselves, usually pouting, to stick on there. If you love yourself that much, go and sort yourself out in front of a mirror...twats.

Plus I'm getting emails that someone is shopping in town, or eating at Pizza Express etc, etc.. like I give a shit! maybe I should set 'taking a dump' or 'cracking one off' as my status...and if you're at a concert, watch the frigging show, that's what you've paid to see, never mind bragging about where you are to your 'friends'...twats

I don't want to know every little detail of your life, if you have the need to write your feelings down, use a diary. Meet up with friends to talk, show them photos of your holiday, kids, fluffeh cats etc.....twats

Get outside, meet real people, stop spending your life online and stop spouting off your every thought to people you don't actually know - most of whom won't actually care, 'cos it's not about them...twats

Hang on......oh fuck, it's not just Facebook, is it?

Please don't click to 'Like this'

Length? longer than I'd planned
(RTFM May your god go with you, Tue 17 Apr 2012, 11:22, 12 replies)

Once, when I was at school
I sharpened my pencil over another boy's head.
(dozers, do fuck off ur a nob m8, Tue 17 Apr 2012, 11:16, 7 replies)

The twat twatted her clean in the twat.
Ladies and gentlemen: a pearost


I was once in one of Newcastle's classier* late night drinking establishments, of which there are many. It was a Wednesady night, which was student night. The particular special of the night was double vodka and cokes for £1.50. Now, myself and my esteemed colleagues (more about them in other posts if I can muster the courage) were not that fussy about the nature of the beverage, as long as it was cheap, so vast quantities of vodka and coke were purchased and drunk. Repeat....

Anyway, we were by no means the only people acceeding to the "let's get absolutely wankered on cheap russian falling over water". There were many ladies present, mostly being perved over by my mates. I took the opportunity to leave and have a slash. The toilets were off a short corridor from the main dancefloor. As I entered said corridor, a refreshed young lady came towards me, slipped and fell over. However...

1: Her legs went in opposite directions.
2: One heel got stuck in a crack between a floortile and the wall.
3: The other shoe went flying off.
4: She split her gusset.

So, there she was, lying in the birthing position, clunge on view to the general public, crying copiously.

So one of my mates (who had earlier been chatting her up) runs over.

...slips....

and manages to kick her clean in the flange.

We left.





*not really
( Undercovercarrot got done for gross misconduct on..., Tue 17 Apr 2012, 11:02, 10 replies)

Corporate compass not working
Some years ago I worked for a small company in London that was run a bit like a gentleman's club.

The senior management team lived a life of luxury, and most of the corporate decisions were based on their individual needs rather than the needs of the business and employees. It was a crappy job but as long as you went with the flow and didn't rock the boat there was relatively little stress.

After a year, the MD announced to the group that we had outgrown our office and would be seeking new premises. The needs of the employees were the most important factor he said, so he would conduct a survey to determine where the majority of people traveled in from. They would then find an office that was easiest to reach for most. Sounded fair and above board.

The process was transparent, so a few weeks later they announced that out of 95 employees, 62 lived south of the river (me included), so that result would help focus their search.

Three months later they moved us into a new office in......Kings Cross!

Where did the MD live? Highgate.

Twat!
(BinDipper, Tue 17 Apr 2012, 10:26, 5 replies)

Twattery.

I liked him on Whose Line Is It Anyway?
( scarpe We Stole Bikes, Tue 17 Apr 2012, 9:59, 1 reply)

breadmaker manufacturers

(TheManWithThePlan cussed your mum on, Tue 17 Apr 2012, 9:54, 1 reply)

Twats at gigs
I too suspect there is an international cabal of twats, who target me at gigs.

Firstly there are the twats who insist, beyond all reason, to go buy two pints and then struggle back through the absolutely rammed venue to their "mate at the front". Except, the feckers get to me, and spill it on me. No one else, just me. They have barged through 3000 other people and not spilled a fricking ounce.

Then there are the couple who want to conduct a domestic in front of me.

Or the couple that are wearing rucksacks

Then there is the dude, who will be standing behind me, who even at a packed concert gets just a little too up close and personal, and is jumping all over me. No one else, just me.

Finally, the two biggest guys at the venue will stand directly in front of me. I could be at the front, way at the back, at the bar, even at the stalls in the gents!

Amongst my friends this has become legend, and no, it is not just me being a mentalist. And it is not just gigs, it could be the kids panto! Just some folk are assholes when it comes to public events and have no idea of the bounds of behaviour
( Fire & Forget it's the only way to be sure, Tue 17 Apr 2012, 9:52, 7 replies)

The families of twats that take up the WHOLE fucking pavement only for me and the ToOnZ clan to dodge 'em
_{I should be a twat and push em in the road}
(KarlToOnZ feels like crap on, Tue 17 Apr 2012, 9:46, 1 reply)

A twat ran a training course at work recently...
...and said 10 minutes of deep breathing was as good as 8 hours of sleep...then I acted a right twat and laughed in their face in front of my boss.
(KarlToOnZ feels like crap on, Tue 17 Apr 2012, 9:37, Reply)

I was recently in Barcelona...
...and was on a train going nowhere in particular when out of the corner of my eye I saw a woman jump for the train as the doors were closing. Her face hit the door which then reopened and she staggered on. She then fainted. A Spanish bloke walked up to her and slagged her off for a few minutes as she lay there unconscious....

When she woke up she came toward me and my family were sitting...and we all laughed in her fat Paella-eating face!
(KarlToOnZ feels like crap on, Tue 17 Apr 2012, 9:35, Reply)

Prepared for flaming...
I nominate the twat of a cyclist last Friday morning outside Blackfriars station.

The lycra-clad loon decided he didn't need to stop at the lights like the other cyclist and cars, but instead could mount the pavement and cycle towards me instead.

I did warn him ("Get off the fucking pavement you twat") but it only encouraged him to peddle more furiously and aim right at me - just where the pavement got a bit narrow.

I side-stepped at the last second and gave him a gentle push, which was all that was needed really as he was going a fair rate. The clatter as he went base-over-apex into a lamppost was quite satisfying, but not as good as hearing the cyclists stopped at the lights having a go at him when he started bleating.

Cyclists - you can love 'em and hate 'em at the same time :-)
(Kliper Filllets Getting noticed by twats on the internet since, Tue 17 Apr 2012, 8:13, 110 replies)

I confess.
When at training courses I turn into one of those twats so enamored by the sound of their own voices that they insist on confronting the instructor with pointless questions and arcane distinctions so that they can then voice their irrelevant opinions, using the longest words in their vocabulary to impress upon the other attendees that they know more than the instructor, and talk without pausing to ward off interruption.
I recognize all this when I am half way through and I think to myself, - oh fuck I wasn't going to do this anymore but here I go -
Sorry
(the other guy not the one that gave you coochie warts, Tue 17 Apr 2012, 4:30, Reply)

I've been working with a friend on his PhD dissertation.
The dissertation is truly brilliant- an analysis of the motivations of terrorists who become informants, with detailed statistical analyses of reports filed by the informants themselves as well as the reports of law enforcement intelligence officers. He has discovered definite trends among different terrorist groups such as Al-Qaeda and Hezbollah, and gleaned valuable insights into how best to approach members of these networks to convince them to cooperate with law enforcement. He has hard data to back his assertions rather than theories based on logical assumptions. I'm his proofreader and editor, so I've read the entire thing, and can honestly say that it's ground breaking work.

The problem is that his committee chairman has differing theories, and is in truth not eager to see this paper published as it's demonstrating with hard evidence that the professor's theories are wrong. No one is as bitchy as an academic with an opposing theory- as Kissinger noted, the reason that academic politics are so vicious is because the stakes are so low. The chair is being an absolute twat of the first water.

And the basis for the professor's theories? His own opinions, based upon his interpretations of the Qur'an and other holy writings. In other words, half-baked theories with no substantial proof. Here, look for yourselves.
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Tue 17 Apr 2012, 2:59, 5 replies)