Discussion
Ever been humiliated? I don't mean embarrassed, I mean humiliated.
I have been embrarrased frequently but only recall real humiliation at secondary school where the kids having free dinners had to queue seperately to get their tickes, which were bright orange instead of blue ( I can't imagine schools today doing that). I never ate school dinners until my dad got work again, there was no queue, or certain teachers were on duty who made sure the colour of the tickets weren't shown to other kids.
I have been embrarrased frequently but only recall real humiliation at secondary school where the kids having free dinners had to queue seperately to get their tickes, which were bright orange instead of blue ( I can't imagine schools today doing that). I never ate school dinners until my dad got work again, there was no queue, or certain teachers were on duty who made sure the colour of the tickets weren't shown to other kids.
Edited by Leftie on Monday 9th October 08:15
voyds9 said:
My lifes half full
I went through school with handmedown clothes and home made clothes stood out like a sore thumb, it wasn't humiliating it character building.
I went through school with handmedown clothes and home made clothes stood out like a sore thumb, it wasn't humiliating it character building.
Forgot, having to so swimming at schol wearing my sisters navy blue knickers as I had no trunks: when they filled wiyh water they were like a massive baggy nappy getting out, at which point everyone realised what they were!
Leftie said:
Ever been humiliated? I don't mean embarrassed, I mean humiliated.
I have been embrarrased frequently but only recall real humiliation at secondary school where the kids having free dinners had to queue seperately to get their tickes, which were bright orange instead of blue ( I can't imagine schools today doing that). I never ate school dinners until my dad got work again, there was no queue, or certain teachers were on duty who made sure the colour of the tickets weren't shown to other kids.
I have been embrarrased frequently but only recall real humiliation at secondary school where the kids having free dinners had to queue seperately to get their tickes, which were bright orange instead of blue ( I can't imagine schools today doing that). I never ate school dinners until my dad got work again, there was no queue, or certain teachers were on duty who made sure the colour of the tickets weren't shown to other kids.
Edited by Leftie on Monday 9th October 08:15
That takes me back (we hade two tickets for "free school meals" ; one brown one worth approx 60p and one blue worth 15p) - on a brighter note I found where the meal tickets were disposed of and frequently used to "recycle" them back into the system (at half face value of course). Certainly helped fund my earlier school life.
I still get twitchy about getting in lifts.
Years ago when I was about 20 I'd been flown out to Hong Kong to do a specific job in the then Dockyard, we were there for about 3 weeks and managed to get a fair amount of time off, however one afternoon I'd gone over to the mainland to do some gratuitous electrical goods shopping on my own and had agreed to meet the rest of the lads in the bar on the base late afternoon. The main building in the then HQ for the UK forces was a tall tower block which had a block of its central floors closed off as restricted for the comms centre and things and the bar was on the top floor hence the only way up and down was the lift, stairs were not an option.
Anyway I came back a bit late and went up to meet the lads who were all ready for a night out on the town, I however had to nip back to the accomodation to drop off my stuff and left the bar on my own with a couple of carrier bags. As I stood waiting for the lift out of the bar spewed about a dozen Female (in the looses sense of the word) Army Lorry drivers, now these "girls" are not to be taken lightly they pride themselves on the fact that they can out drink, out fight, and out shag most squaddies, they have more tatoos than most sailors and are generally of the build of the average Irish Navvy (infact most are harder than the majority of navvys). I tried my hardest not to draw attention to myself and foolishly stood my ground infront of the lift doors trying to show no signs of weekness infront of the predators.
With a ping my moment had arrived and I walked into the lift first and turned to face my tormentors, all 12 of them then squeezed in behind me into a lift obviously designed for a maximum of 8 or so "normal" people. I stood there in a cold sweat with the chief tormentor pressing her more than ample breasts into my chest while breathing her finest Benson & Hedges straight into my face, while looking at me eye to eye (I'm 6'3" remember!!) I could feel my only hope of freedom slipping away as the doors gentle closed and robbed my route to safety. As the doors closed and silence engulfed the lift space my nemisis broke the silence with the opening line of "ooooooo you're quite a tall lad how bigs ya knob then big boy" I felt another 22 eyes lock onto my rapidly flushing face like baying vultures waiting for road kill and all I could do to respond and try and hold a degree of self esteem was reply with "Errrrr big enough to satisfy the average requirement" a limp and half hearted effort that was never going to save my bacon in that environment. It produced the cutting reply of "Well I can take 9 inches without blinking, do you recon it would satisfy me?" The lift erupted into shreeks of laughter and war crys as they could smell blood I was in a truely no win situation, whatever I did or said could only end up one way and that was with my slaughter, so I did the only thing any man could in the situation, I coughed I spluttered and I shat myself while praying that the lift which was intent on taking a week to cover 16 floors would hurry up. As the light again appeared and the doors opened I was left alone by my tormentors as they went on their way to gather more pray, the final departing gesture from the Fatima Whitbread looki likey was to lick my face, caress my groin and whisper in a manner a town cryer would be proud of "I'll be looking for you later".
They then left me alone with a lasting fear of confined spaces and army women!!! True Humiliation.
Years ago when I was about 20 I'd been flown out to Hong Kong to do a specific job in the then Dockyard, we were there for about 3 weeks and managed to get a fair amount of time off, however one afternoon I'd gone over to the mainland to do some gratuitous electrical goods shopping on my own and had agreed to meet the rest of the lads in the bar on the base late afternoon. The main building in the then HQ for the UK forces was a tall tower block which had a block of its central floors closed off as restricted for the comms centre and things and the bar was on the top floor hence the only way up and down was the lift, stairs were not an option.
Anyway I came back a bit late and went up to meet the lads who were all ready for a night out on the town, I however had to nip back to the accomodation to drop off my stuff and left the bar on my own with a couple of carrier bags. As I stood waiting for the lift out of the bar spewed about a dozen Female (in the looses sense of the word) Army Lorry drivers, now these "girls" are not to be taken lightly they pride themselves on the fact that they can out drink, out fight, and out shag most squaddies, they have more tatoos than most sailors and are generally of the build of the average Irish Navvy (infact most are harder than the majority of navvys). I tried my hardest not to draw attention to myself and foolishly stood my ground infront of the lift doors trying to show no signs of weekness infront of the predators.
With a ping my moment had arrived and I walked into the lift first and turned to face my tormentors, all 12 of them then squeezed in behind me into a lift obviously designed for a maximum of 8 or so "normal" people. I stood there in a cold sweat with the chief tormentor pressing her more than ample breasts into my chest while breathing her finest Benson & Hedges straight into my face, while looking at me eye to eye (I'm 6'3" remember!!) I could feel my only hope of freedom slipping away as the doors gentle closed and robbed my route to safety. As the doors closed and silence engulfed the lift space my nemisis broke the silence with the opening line of "ooooooo you're quite a tall lad how bigs ya knob then big boy" I felt another 22 eyes lock onto my rapidly flushing face like baying vultures waiting for road kill and all I could do to respond and try and hold a degree of self esteem was reply with "Errrrr big enough to satisfy the average requirement" a limp and half hearted effort that was never going to save my bacon in that environment. It produced the cutting reply of "Well I can take 9 inches without blinking, do you recon it would satisfy me?" The lift erupted into shreeks of laughter and war crys as they could smell blood I was in a truely no win situation, whatever I did or said could only end up one way and that was with my slaughter, so I did the only thing any man could in the situation, I coughed I spluttered and I shat myself while praying that the lift which was intent on taking a week to cover 16 floors would hurry up. As the light again appeared and the doors opened I was left alone by my tormentors as they went on their way to gather more pray, the final departing gesture from the Fatima Whitbread looki likey was to lick my face, caress my groin and whisper in a manner a town cryer would be proud of "I'll be looking for you later".
They then left me alone with a lasting fear of confined spaces and army women!!! True Humiliation.
MMMmmmm, humiliation. 
I was humiliated at school. Regularly. The peak of my humiliation was having to stand outside the Head Masters room during breaks while my mates pulled faces and waited to see what punishment would be dished out.
I once had to stand there after being head smacked by a teacher. Bright red face and still made to stand on ceremony.
If only, IF ONLY I'd have tried to make an example of HIM, instead of the other way round.
I was humiliated at school. Regularly. The peak of my humiliation was having to stand outside the Head Masters room during breaks while my mates pulled faces and waited to see what punishment would be dished out.
I once had to stand there after being head smacked by a teacher. Bright red face and still made to stand on ceremony.
If only, IF ONLY I'd have tried to make an example of HIM, instead of the other way round.
When I was about 12 (13 years ago) this chav girl (who was later expelled), punched me in the face, I cried, the teacher came in, made me stand at the front, bawling my eyes out and silenced about 2 classrooms so they could hear/see me crying!
He was trying to make a point of how naughty the girl was, but actually it just ended up humiliating me as everyone knew a girl made me cry!
bitch, I hope she's in prison!
He was trying to make a point of how naughty the girl was, but actually it just ended up humiliating me as everyone knew a girl made me cry!
bitch, I hope she's in prison!
School humiliation - wearing second hand clothes which someone else identified as their own. Cue absolute denials from myself until said shirt was forcibly removed and the name tag thrust in my face!
But for real humiliation, try being in a marriage on the downslope. Women can be devious bitches when they want to be!
But for real humiliation, try being in a marriage on the downslope. Women can be devious bitches when they want to be!
framps said:
The Dude said:
framps said:
I see humiliation on a daily basis.
Damn that bathroom mirror, eh?
lol - bet you're one of those fellas that has to use the cubicle in the gents
Edited by framps on Monday 9th October 14:58
Well, to be honest, I find taking a shit in the urinal very uncouth.
Tut....you Porsche drivers eh? Kerrrrrazy!
Edited by The Dude on Monday 9th October 15:03
Gassing Station | The Pie & Piston Archive | Top of Page | What's New | My Stuff