» Surprise!

Unconscious surprise
I have a mate (honest) who, despite being in his 40s, loves to scare the bejesus out of people by jumping out of hiding places when they least expect it. His name's Lee.

On one occasion, the rest of the family (wife and two kids) were out, and he heard the car pulling into the drive. Giggling to himself, he decided to hide in a storage cupboard opposite the entrance to the lounge and to see just how badly he could make them shit themselves.

They came in, put the shopping away, wandered round the house etc, while Lee stayed concealed, waiting for the perfect moment once they had all settled down. This they eventually did, after about 20 minutes or so, and they settled down on the sofa to watch a bit of telly.

Lee's plan was to leap out of the cupboard, taking a giant stride or two, leaping into the middle of the lounge while roaring at the top of his voice. Not imaginative, but likely to be effective. Unfortunately, in the 'giant stride' phase of the plan, Lee neglected to factor in his 6 foot 4 inch height. As he embarked upon his leap into the lounge, he smashed his head on the underside of the door frame, knocking himself unconscious before he even had the chance to roar.

Thus his family were confronted with the sight of their husband/father hurtling noiselessly into the middle of the lounge, collapsing as he went, and smashing through the coffee table.

Went well.
(Thu 4th Apr 2013, 13:07, More)

» The Police II

Not me but a mate
My best mate is ex-Old Bill - he left after a couple of years as he was fed up with the red tape and politics. However, during his time working as a copper, he was strolling through the square in Bournemouth when he witnessed a handbag snatch (no, not a massive gaping fanny, a theft).

Obviously he immediately gave chase, as the bespectacled youth fled with the handbag into Bournemouth gardens. for those that don't know Bournemouth, there's an outdoor exhibition space where they have art exhibitions and whatnot during the summer, so there's a simple, semi-permanent set of metal frames and poles that they cover over and use to hang their paintings etc.

As the thief pumped his arms and legs to try and increase his speed (my mate was catching him up comfortably), he hooked his thumb into the arm of his specs accidentally and sent them flying.

Unfortunately, our hero would appear to have been blind as a bat. He carried on running for about 20 yards, but in his blinded state could not see that he was running headlong into a metal pole. With about 6 inches to go before impact, the guy realised he was about to spang himself in the face and tried to put the brakes on - too late. As he tried to perform the impossible and decelerate to a standstill in one step, his feet slipped from under him and - you guessed it - went one either side of the aforementioned pole. It left my mate with the easiest arrest of his career.

Apparently the audio tape had to be stopped several times during the interview because my mate and his partner were pissing themselves laughing throughout the questioning, and completely lost it when it came to describing the arrest itself - including the line 'can you confirm that your first words when being apprehended were 'Ooooh, fucking hell, me nuts, I think I've split my ball bag'?'
(Fri 6th May 2011, 9:46, More)

» Random Acts of Kindness

Reaching out to the elderly
As a student, I used to stay with an aunt and uncle in Bury a lot, especially over weekends. Of a morning (well, whatever time I would surface) I'd head up to the shop at the top of their road to buy a paper. To approach the shop, you'd come up to a T-junction where directly opposite was an old folk's home.

One morning, as I approached the junction, I saw an elderly lady stood in the window. She was waving in a sad, almost mournful fashion - not even putting much effort into her wave. It was a saturday morning, grey and overcast. She was alone, in a home, probably not visited by friends or family in some time. She must have felt detached from the world around her, alone, desperate for someone to recognise her existence and bring the tiniest little bit of light into her life.

I did what we all would do - put on a big shit-eating grin and waved back. After a second or so, her eyes met mine. I saw confusion, then a little fear, then finally, comprehension. She put down the cloth with which she had been happily cleaning her window, and waved cheerfully back at the grinning retard stood in the street waving at her like a massive fucknugget.

Good of her, I say.
(Thu 9th Feb 2012, 15:23, More)

» It's Not What It Looks Like!

A failed rapist writes...
A few years back, I was enjoying a few post-work boozes with my colleagues on a Friday. The crowd slowly started drifting away, and as was usual, a mate Stu and I were to become the last men standing. Kind of an unwritten rule between us that once everyone else had gone, we’d carry on, stay out and get well and truly mashed.

However on this particular occasion, a new girl, Alice, asked if she could stay out with us. She’d only worked with us a couple of weeks but seemed a good sort and was clearly relishing being off the leash a little – she’d had a few already by this time (around 9pm; we’d gone out straight after work). ‘No worries’ we thought, and stay out with us she did.

As we moved to another pub it became clear Alice was very VERY pissed. An attempt to get cash out the cashpoint saw her fall flat on her arse, she was slurring her words and all the rest of it. In the next pub we were in, she was phoned repeatedly by her boyfriend – she hadn’t told him she was staying out and he was understandably worried (and, when he found out she had just stayed out and got pissed, angry).

They argued for ages – her in that way that only a pissed person who is completely in the wrong can. She hung up on him repeatedly and he kept calling back, only for her to tell him to fuck off and hang up again etc etc.

By now we were moving on to another pub, but Stu and I were concerned with how drunk she was, so we agreed Stu would nip into the next pub and order the beers up while I saw Alice to a cab (which we agreed we would pay for as she had no cash left).

As I walked Alice to the cab rank, alone, she decided she would walk home. She lived on the other side of town, would have had to walk through a park at midnight to get there, and – crucially – could not actually stand up unaided.

‘Don’t be daft’ I said. ‘We’ll get you to a cab’.

‘No, she insisted, ‘I want to walk’.

As we got near the cab rank, Alice decided to ‘make a break for it’ and tried to run away from me. She’d have gone headlong into traffic (if she stayed on her feet long enough) so I grabbed her arm and, getting a bit fed up with her, shouted at her: ‘For goodness sake, just get into the cab!’

‘I just want to walk home!’ she yelled back.

‘Get your fucking hands off my missus’ came a third voice from behind us. That’s right, her fella had come to find her in the car and had alighted to see me trying to force his drunk girlfriend into a taxi against her wishes. His anger was reflected by the many passing revellers who all clearly shared this misconception and I was convinced I was about to get a shoeing.

Luckily for me I’m a reasonably big bloke so the boyfriend didn’t fancy having a pop, but the looks of disgust from the people on the street as I trudged back to the pub after they had departed was not a particularly pleasant experience. A failed rapist – is there any worse kind?

And all from chivalrously trying to stop a girl putting herself at risk, and even offering to pay for the taxi myself. Bah.

Length? Well if her boyfriend hadn't turned up she'd have found out etc
(Wed 15th Dec 2010, 11:41, More)

» Schadenfreude

Self ejection
A mate of mine by the name of Beechy was down visiting us in Bournemouth for another mate's birthday. A good few drinks had been consumed at the resultant houseparty, and we resolved to head out into town to carry on drinking. Not that Beechy needed to. He was trollied, and despite usually being one of the nicest blokes you could ever wish to meet, was behaving like an utter twat. On our short walk to the club he downed what was left of his large bottle of JD (it had been full when he started) and randomly hurled it across the road - missing the head of another friend by inches. Once inside the club, he continued being a total obnoxious twat, entering a fancy dress contest (it was also Halloween) despite being dressed in just jeans and a shirt. Upon not winning, he sprayed the judges with beer, then threw the rest of his pint, still in the (thankfully plastic) container onto the dance floor, Begbie-style.

Don;t get me wrong, normally I love the bloke but we were definitely getting fucked off with his behaviour on this occasion, and the bouncers were about to move in. We decided that we weren't going to risk a shoeing on his behalf, and if they chucked him out, he was on his own - he was, after all, utterly in the wrong.

As the bouncers moved in, Beechy's attitude got even worse and he lit up a fag (this was post-smoking ban) and leaned back against the wall, waiting for the black-suited gorillas to come and get him. Only they didn't have to. Beechy was stood by a fire door, and as he leaned back, his arse hit the bar that opened it.

Del-boy style, he fell straight through the door without breaking his form, and te bouncers simply closed the door behind him, for the easiest club ejaculation they will ever have had to conduct.

Serves hims right, the tit.
(Fri 18th Dec 2009, 16:58, More)