Guilty Laughs
Are you the kind of person who laughs when they see a cat getting run over? Tell us about the times your sense of humour has gone beyond taste and decency.
Suggested by SnowyTheRabbit
( , Thu 22 Jul 2010, 15:19)
Are you the kind of person who laughs when they see a cat getting run over? Tell us about the times your sense of humour has gone beyond taste and decency.
Suggested by SnowyTheRabbit
( , Thu 22 Jul 2010, 15:19)
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Big enough to do what dear?
This is actually the story of my friend who is going to Hull for being completely useless in the face of this sheer stupidity of yours truly. So, back story
~~~wavy lines~~~back to the future theme music~~~
So, I occasionally work cash in hand (don't tell the tax office) for a friend helping him to peel potatoes, boil water and help make starters for meals which his partner regularly creates. This particular events was at my friends who name sounds a lot like Pete (for that is his name in the B3ta tradition) parents Golden Wedding anniversary. Being stanch middle class, church going (his dad is a high up reverend in some church or another), highly respectable 70 odd year old folks. Both lovely people as are the family, slightly bat-shit insane with their occasional quirks, like being Welsh, but obviously very caring and loving towards each other.
However, the faux pas comes from the fact that nearly all of them are newly "born-again" Christians and with all the fervour that comes with that. This means
- No swearing
- No drinking
- No hard drugs
- No signs of homersexual love between Pete and his partner
- No b3ta-esque style of jokes
Things which I can mostly live with and after being warned by Pete I am on my best behaviour all weekend, aside from the first two hours and two major faux pas... We're in this lovely, fantastic small cottage, the sort of place old people save up to retire in but end up in a council estate in Peckham instead and it has a very small kitchen. We're in said Kitchen and Pete asks if I can go ask his mum for a pan, how big I ask? "Big enough for all these potatoes" I'm told, so off I go, I will find his mother and said pan.
I find mother dearest talking to her in-laws and remaining brothers and sisters in the garden, full of youth, bravado and hang over from smoking too much Green stuff the night before I politely and meekly ask "Excuse me K, Pete says do you know if we have a pan to boil some potatoes in?", to which she replied "Oh yes dear, off course how big does it need to be". It's at this point my brain rebels and without conscious thought I reply "Oh, about big enough to boil a baby in". Pete is stood behind me at this point to ask his mother about something else, hears what I've just said and the reaction is… Interesting.
His mother *blinks*, looks at me and mumbles something about "in the closet dear", her in-laws look at me like I've grown horns and just spat on their first born baby after it's just been born. And Pete? He's on the ground holding his sides while going red in the face desperately trying not to laugh out loud… Apparently it was akin to "passing a kidney stone" the laughter/pain was so bad.
Secondly?
General conversation with her auntie who has thankfully forgiven my faux pas from earlier and is questioning me on why I abandoned "my faith" and what reasons for this do I have? After a few here and there's we are getting along well, all is forgiven from earlier, yay! Until they start getting ready to go into church to listen to the sermon and bless the 50 years together Pete's parents have had together.
Lovely auntie says to me "Oh, Helo won't you be joining us? The church doors are open to everyone", I politely decline and get on skinning some potatoes. Auntie leaves and I believe the kitchen is empty and Pete has just walked in (behind me, again) and says "Oh yes Helo, you should go in! It's not as if you'll be blasted by lightening for going in will ya?" My rebellious brain at this point has had enough of being "nice" and spits out the following immortal line:
"Oh well, I guess I could give it a try if that's the case. I mean, if the Reverend can get in after buggering all the altar boys and getting pissed on the holy wine I'm sure that I could give it a try".
So I stand up, brush myself around and look around to see Petes mum and dad looking at me in sheer horror. Did I forget to mention that Petes dad was a church reverend?
I didn't go to church in the end. Neither did Pete, he had to lock himself into the toilet and deal with the hysteria that comes from seeing his dad go from pasty white to a bell end shade of purple in a matter of seconds… Oh, we're so defo going to Hull for all this…
( , Fri 23 Jul 2010, 15:36, 3 replies)
This is actually the story of my friend who is going to Hull for being completely useless in the face of this sheer stupidity of yours truly. So, back story
~~~wavy lines~~~back to the future theme music~~~
So, I occasionally work cash in hand (don't tell the tax office) for a friend helping him to peel potatoes, boil water and help make starters for meals which his partner regularly creates. This particular events was at my friends who name sounds a lot like Pete (for that is his name in the B3ta tradition) parents Golden Wedding anniversary. Being stanch middle class, church going (his dad is a high up reverend in some church or another), highly respectable 70 odd year old folks. Both lovely people as are the family, slightly bat-shit insane with their occasional quirks, like being Welsh, but obviously very caring and loving towards each other.
However, the faux pas comes from the fact that nearly all of them are newly "born-again" Christians and with all the fervour that comes with that. This means
- No swearing
- No drinking
- No hard drugs
- No signs of homersexual love between Pete and his partner
- No b3ta-esque style of jokes
Things which I can mostly live with and after being warned by Pete I am on my best behaviour all weekend, aside from the first two hours and two major faux pas... We're in this lovely, fantastic small cottage, the sort of place old people save up to retire in but end up in a council estate in Peckham instead and it has a very small kitchen. We're in said Kitchen and Pete asks if I can go ask his mum for a pan, how big I ask? "Big enough for all these potatoes" I'm told, so off I go, I will find his mother and said pan.
I find mother dearest talking to her in-laws and remaining brothers and sisters in the garden, full of youth, bravado and hang over from smoking too much Green stuff the night before I politely and meekly ask "Excuse me K, Pete says do you know if we have a pan to boil some potatoes in?", to which she replied "Oh yes dear, off course how big does it need to be". It's at this point my brain rebels and without conscious thought I reply "Oh, about big enough to boil a baby in". Pete is stood behind me at this point to ask his mother about something else, hears what I've just said and the reaction is… Interesting.
His mother *blinks*, looks at me and mumbles something about "in the closet dear", her in-laws look at me like I've grown horns and just spat on their first born baby after it's just been born. And Pete? He's on the ground holding his sides while going red in the face desperately trying not to laugh out loud… Apparently it was akin to "passing a kidney stone" the laughter/pain was so bad.
Secondly?
General conversation with her auntie who has thankfully forgiven my faux pas from earlier and is questioning me on why I abandoned "my faith" and what reasons for this do I have? After a few here and there's we are getting along well, all is forgiven from earlier, yay! Until they start getting ready to go into church to listen to the sermon and bless the 50 years together Pete's parents have had together.
Lovely auntie says to me "Oh, Helo won't you be joining us? The church doors are open to everyone", I politely decline and get on skinning some potatoes. Auntie leaves and I believe the kitchen is empty and Pete has just walked in (behind me, again) and says "Oh yes Helo, you should go in! It's not as if you'll be blasted by lightening for going in will ya?" My rebellious brain at this point has had enough of being "nice" and spits out the following immortal line:
"Oh well, I guess I could give it a try if that's the case. I mean, if the Reverend can get in after buggering all the altar boys and getting pissed on the holy wine I'm sure that I could give it a try".
So I stand up, brush myself around and look around to see Petes mum and dad looking at me in sheer horror. Did I forget to mention that Petes dad was a church reverend?
I didn't go to church in the end. Neither did Pete, he had to lock himself into the toilet and deal with the hysteria that comes from seeing his dad go from pasty white to a bell end shade of purple in a matter of seconds… Oh, we're so defo going to Hull for all this…
( , Fri 23 Jul 2010, 15:36, 3 replies)
Reeeeally silly
I'm convinced my brain is sometimes inhabited by demons that just want to embrassess me when in front of people...
( , Fri 23 Jul 2010, 15:57, closed)
I'm convinced my brain is sometimes inhabited by demons that just want to embrassess me when in front of people...
( , Fri 23 Jul 2010, 15:57, closed)
Serves them right.
If they weren't such uptight, prudish, god-fearing pricks they would have found it funny.
( , Fri 23 Jul 2010, 17:45, closed)
If they weren't such uptight, prudish, god-fearing pricks they would have found it funny.
( , Fri 23 Jul 2010, 17:45, closed)
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