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» Sexism

Think this just about covers it.

Sorry for the embedding. I'll edit it out if anyone feels it offends them enough.

Credit obviously goes to xkcd.
(Sun 27th Dec 2009, 18:17, More)

» Real-life slapstick

The Sport of Kings
Way back when I were but a feral teen hanging out in parks drinking cheap vodka bought from dodgy corner shops my friends and I had a simple but brilliant game known as 'Shoe Flicking'. The premise was to simply swing on the swings and flick your shoes off as far as you could. Like I said, simple. The playground we went to was perfect for this as there was a small fence surrounding the playground which was the perfect distance away to aim for. It wasn't easy to reach it, but not impossible either.

The game had evolved, incorporating rules such as 'You cannot transfer shoes from foot to foot'. This was made relevant due to some people having a cracking right foot but a piss poor left foot. I was one of these people.

One Sunday morning, the playground devoid of children, we had decided on a quick game of this majestic sport. Jay, who was the best at this, had taken his usual swing, far on the left. Matt placed next to him and me to the right of Matt. Jay went first, right shoe, over the fence, left shoe, hit the fence. It was a good attempt. Next up was Matt, he wasn't the best but got both shoes a respectable foot or two from the fence. Then it was my turn. I geed myself up and shuffled my shoe off. I swang and swang. I had to beat Jay, I just had to. My first shoe went sailing over the fence. I could do this, I could be the first to get the 'Double Whamee'. I could get both shoes from the same round over the fence. I swang as hard as I could. I could feel my heart pumping and I knew the time was right to release.

...There it was, rising higher and higher, higher still. Only, it wasn't going forward. I had managed to flick my shoe directly above me. There was nothing I could do but wait. As if Fate himself had conspired against me, my shoe hit me square in the head as I was swinging forward. I backflipped off the swing and hit the floor, a plume of dust rising. The swing kept swinging, now behind me. As I attempted to regain any dignity I could, I slowly started getting up. I had barely moved when the swing crashed into the back of my head, forcing me to the ground yet again. This time, I just stayed down.

Length? A good 50-60 feet on a good day
(Thu 21st Jan 2010, 19:41, More)

» Pointless Experiments

As a young child...
...most comedy is either cartoon or slapstick based. This obviously includes the classic 'stepping on a rake' gag.

I must have been around 6 or 7 and was alone in the garden. There was also a rake on the ground. Now I wasn't a stupid child, I knew I didn't want to be cracked in the face by a metal pole, but I still wanted to test this theory.

I figured that if I trod on it lightly I could control it's rise and stop it short of my face. Of course, it didn't pan out as I had planned and upon standing on the rake, managed to thrust the metal pole, directly onto my forehead, perfectly between my eyes. Messrs Hanna and Barbera would have been pround. I was down like a lead balloon and cried excessively.

Length? From the ground to my head in half a second.
(Sun 27th Jul 2008, 0:46, More)

» Unexpected Nudity

Willy Dance
I had successfully repressed this memory until reading some of these answers. Cheers b3ta.

During Year 6 the whole year was treated, and I use that term loosely, to a week-long trip to the Isle of Wight. “A whole week with my mates and no parents. This will be brilliant” thought a small 9-year old Martin. If only I’d known the horrors I’d be subject to on that small island.

The place we went to was an adventure holiday kind of place. Everyone stayed in log cabins and it was very cool to a bunch of young kids. I was rooming with 2 of my best mates, Tom and Jonathon, and 3 other kids we were stuck with, Jon, Daniel and Mark. Jon and Daniel were the “naughty kids” and I was a bit gutted but trying to make the most of it, we had tried to befriend them before the trip. As for Mark, no-one really liked him. He was a bit weird and always seemed to picking either his nose or his bum.

Kids being kids, we had all packed a ton of sweets for some epic midnight feasts. We’d even developed a code to be quiet when a teacher was coming. “Lie low!” I’d shout when I saw someone. No it wasn’t hard to understand what we were saying, but it could have also sounded like we were playing aquatic transport charades.

It was the first night and we began our feast. Smarties, Skittles, Chocolate, anything. If it had sugar in, we were eating it. It was late, but due to the fact we were all around 8 or 9, it was probably only about 10pm. We were all on a sugar high and running round the rooms and screaming our pre-pubescent heads off. This was fun. This was what I’d hoped it would be; a bunch of guys being awesome.

The night took a turn for the worse when Mark started having ideas with what to do with the night. We all ignored him and he retreated to his room. Minutes later, the door burst open, and he was standing there, fully naked, as God had intended. It was at this point, God realised he had made a huge fucking mistake. The rest of us were aghast, trying not to make eye contact with eachother, him or ‘Little Mark’. This effectively became impossible when he walked to mere feet in front of us, started bouncing around, and began singing. To give credit to Mark, his choice of song could not have been more apt. As I recall, the lyrics were something like, “Willy dance! Willy dance! I’m doing the willy dance!” Fuck me if I’ve never been so frightened in my life. We all scrambled as far back as we could, but even the wall still left us within what seemed range of a cock slap.

Eventually we managed to shout at him loud enough and long enough for him to stop. We sent him back to his room and made for God damn sure he didn’t come out for the rest of the night. This fun cabaret was then followed by me being sick. Whether it was through me being homesick, eating too much sugar, or physically trying to remove the memories of what I’d just witnessed I don’t know. What I do know is that this was never talked about afterwards by any of the parties involved. I’m not sure if it was an unsaid pact of silence, or us all just trying to convince ourselves that this horrific act had never happened.

Length? He was 8. It was small.
(Fri 29th May 2009, 0:06, More)

» Darwin Awards

Last year, whilst at Uni, I was at a house party as the guest of one of the students living there. As there were 5 other students in this house, there were a lot of people. It being early November, someone had decided to bring some explosion-themed entertainment for us all in the form of some rockets.

Everyone was drinking and laughing and there was no trouble, which is always nice at a house party. It was time for the fireworks. They were planted safely in the garden, perhaps not as far away as should be but we weren't stupid and we all stood as far back as we could. They were lit and we waited for the light show to begin. The fuse was burning down and as I'm sure you all know, there is a slight gap between when the fuse stops and the rocket launches. The fuse stopped, there was a gap, the rocket went off. However, it didn't leave the ground. There was a moment of the rocket "rocketing" but not going anywhere and the beautiful sight of everyone realising, "Shit. Fuck. Errr..." BANG! There was no time to run so there were a good 50 students in the garden, each staring an exploding rocket in the face. How not one person was injured I do not know. After the everyone had recovered from the shock, there was laughter, swearing swiftly followed by more drinking.

Who says students are reckless? And as for length, the Onosecond didn't last long enough to register before the rocket blew.
(Thu 19th Feb 2009, 1:05, More)
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