What made you laugh hardest...?
Discussion
Adam B said:
and now i am going to have try and find that tale of the guy on a date after a lethal curry and s
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Was trying to find it...and found this - ftking funny:TwoHats said:
I can add to the duck slaughter. Over twenty years ago but typing it has made me feel really stty all over again. Walking to the pub with my mate aged about 18, quickest way was through public footpaths, across a disused industrial unit and down the canal, on this occasion with the local beat bobby following a couple of hundred yards behind.
As we crossed the industrial unit approaching the canal I picked up a six inch square piece of steel plate thinking it would skim really well on the water, it did..........
Unfortunately better than I'd envisaged and quickly reached a duck I had considered to be miles out of range, it bounced about a foot in front of the duck and then rose again, for a second it looked like it might miss but didn't and took the top half inch of the poor birds head clean off.
It didn't die, it just started thrashing around in the water, spewing blood everwhere and literally screaming with its tongue hanging out the side of its beak.
Wanting to put it out of its misery and aware there was a copper only minutes behind us we fished it out still screaming and thrashing. My mate attempted to drop a breeze block on its head but missed due to the frenzy and got its chest instead just adding to the poor things injuries and distress.
I spotted a discarded half used reel of welding wire from the industrial unit on the canal bank so grabbed it and looped it round the still hysterical ducks neck a couple of times before throwing the lot back in the canal. This finally did the trick.......sort of.
My intention was to drown the duck and hide my heinous crime by sinking the evidence, only I left too much slack in the wire. The reel sank like a stone but didn't fully pull the duck under. A feathery bottom and two orange feet remained protruding from the water. The worst thing was it remained there in a continuing state of decay for weeks and weeks afterwards as a reminder of that murderous day. [/quotes]
As we crossed the industrial unit approaching the canal I picked up a six inch square piece of steel plate thinking it would skim really well on the water, it did..........
Unfortunately better than I'd envisaged and quickly reached a duck I had considered to be miles out of range, it bounced about a foot in front of the duck and then rose again, for a second it looked like it might miss but didn't and took the top half inch of the poor birds head clean off.
It didn't die, it just started thrashing around in the water, spewing blood everwhere and literally screaming with its tongue hanging out the side of its beak.
Wanting to put it out of its misery and aware there was a copper only minutes behind us we fished it out still screaming and thrashing. My mate attempted to drop a breeze block on its head but missed due to the frenzy and got its chest instead just adding to the poor things injuries and distress.
I spotted a discarded half used reel of welding wire from the industrial unit on the canal bank so grabbed it and looped it round the still hysterical ducks neck a couple of times before throwing the lot back in the canal. This finally did the trick.......sort of.
My intention was to drown the duck and hide my heinous crime by sinking the evidence, only I left too much slack in the wire. The reel sank like a stone but didn't fully pull the duck under. A feathery bottom and two orange feet remained protruding from the water. The worst thing was it remained there in a continuing state of decay for weeks and weeks afterwards as a reminder of that murderous day. [/quotes]
Another PHer tells the story of a wedding at Gleneagles Hotel.
A very nice do with lots of champagne, all the girls in beautiful dresses and the chaps in kilts. At the reception he manages to pull one of the bridesmaids. After much giggleing, dancing and drinking, they go up to the suite to make a night of it.
The girl sits on the side of the bed as our be-kilted PH hero leaps, with all the confidence only a skinfull gives you, onto the bed and slides up to this gorgeous babe. She stands and shreiks, covering her mouth with her hand as a barff-baffle, as he looks behind him and sees he's left a 4 foot "ginger wheelspin" right up the white sheets.
I laughed at that'un for days.
A very nice do with lots of champagne, all the girls in beautiful dresses and the chaps in kilts. At the reception he manages to pull one of the bridesmaids. After much giggleing, dancing and drinking, they go up to the suite to make a night of it.
The girl sits on the side of the bed as our be-kilted PH hero leaps, with all the confidence only a skinfull gives you, onto the bed and slides up to this gorgeous babe. She stands and shreiks, covering her mouth with her hand as a barff-baffle, as he looks behind him and sees he's left a 4 foot "ginger wheelspin" right up the white sheets.
I laughed at that'un for days.
Keeping with the theme, I once worked in a parts department for a Citroen dealer. One of the mechanics walked in one day and let off a massive fart, grinning from ear to ear about the almighty stench that would soon permeate the room. But that grin quickly changed to a look of genuine horror. After a few moments silence he said "oh bloody hell, I've just followed through". He then had to shuffle rather slowly to his car and go home to retrieve some fresh underwear.
Fishtigua said:
Another PHer tells the story of a wedding at Gleneagles Hotel.
A very nice do with lots of champagne, all the girls in beautiful dresses and the chaps in kilts. At the reception he manages to pull one of the bridesmaids. After much giggleing, dancing and drinking, they go up to the suite to make a night of it.
The girl sits on the side of the bed as our be-kilted PH hero leaps, with all the confidence only a skinfull gives you, onto the bed and slides up to this gorgeous babe. She stands and shreiks, covering her mouth with her hand as a barff-baffle, as he looks behind him and sees he's left a 4 foot "ginger wheelspin" right up the white sheets.
I laughed at that'un for days.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!A very nice do with lots of champagne, all the girls in beautiful dresses and the chaps in kilts. At the reception he manages to pull one of the bridesmaids. After much giggleing, dancing and drinking, they go up to the suite to make a night of it.
The girl sits on the side of the bed as our be-kilted PH hero leaps, with all the confidence only a skinfull gives you, onto the bed and slides up to this gorgeous babe. She stands and shreiks, covering her mouth with her hand as a barff-baffle, as he looks behind him and sees he's left a 4 foot "ginger wheelspin" right up the white sheets.
I laughed at that'un for days.
Oh good lord.
Adam B said:
and now i am going to have try and find that tale of the guy on a date after a lethal curry and st
Please don't. It's been repeated that many times on here it's become cliché. To be honest it's not that funny anyway and has even been mentioned on the 'Things That Annoy You Beyond Reason' thread as a shyte joke.tAdam B said:
Get out, some of the onomatopoeia of the duck slapping is positively Wordsworth- esque
The central theme of the joke is a fair maiden's delicate sensibilities being challenged by a bloke trying to woo her but having his chances dashed when his bowels decide they've clung onto the earlier curry for far too long. That's it.
It's a man being forced to have a dump and a woman being forced to experience it. It's a literal 'fart in a lift' joke.
goldblum said:
Adam B said:
Get out, some of the onomatopoeia of the duck slapping is positively Wordsworth- esque
The central theme of the joke is a fair maiden's delicate sensibilities being challenged by a bloke trying to woo her but having his chances dashed when his bowels decide they've clung onto the earlier curry for far too long. That's it.
It's a man being forced to have a dump and a woman being forced to experience it. It's a literal 'fart in a lift' joke.
Fishtigua said:
Another PHer tells the story of a wedding at Gleneagles Hotel.
A very nice do with lots of champagne, all the girls in beautiful dresses and the chaps in kilts. At the reception he manages to pull one of the bridesmaids. After much giggleing, dancing and drinking, they go up to the suite to make a night of it.
The girl sits on the side of the bed as our be-kilted PH hero leaps, with all the confidence only a skinfull gives you, onto the bed and slides up to this gorgeous babe. She stands and shreiks, covering her mouth with her hand as a barff-baffle, as he looks behind him and sees he's left a 4 foot "ginger wheelspin" right up the white sheets.
I laughed at that'un for days.
Do we share who it was?!A very nice do with lots of champagne, all the girls in beautiful dresses and the chaps in kilts. At the reception he manages to pull one of the bridesmaids. After much giggleing, dancing and drinking, they go up to the suite to make a night of it.
The girl sits on the side of the bed as our be-kilted PH hero leaps, with all the confidence only a skinfull gives you, onto the bed and slides up to this gorgeous babe. She stands and shreiks, covering her mouth with her hand as a barff-baffle, as he looks behind him and sees he's left a 4 foot "ginger wheelspin" right up the white sheets.
I laughed at that'un for days.
The Moose said:
goldblum said:
Adam B said:
Get out, some of the onomatopoeia of the duck slapping is positively Wordsworth- esque
The central theme of the joke is a fair maiden's delicate sensibilities being challenged by a bloke trying to woo her but having his chances dashed when his bowels decide they've clung onto the earlier curry for far too long. That's it.
It's a man being forced to have a dump and a woman being forced to experience it. It's a literal 'fart in a lift' joke.
goldblum said:
The Moose said:
goldblum said:
Adam B said:
Get out, some of the onomatopoeia of the duck slapping is positively Wordsworth- esque
The central theme of the joke is a fair maiden's delicate sensibilities being challenged by a bloke trying to woo her but having his chances dashed when his bowels decide they've clung onto the earlier curry for far too long. That's it.
It's a man being forced to have a dump and a woman being forced to experience it. It's a literal 'fart in a lift' joke.
Years ago my mate took great delight in showing us his new B&O sound system complete with diamond tip stylus on his direct drive turntable before we all went out on the piss.
One of us, in the night wandered into his room, lifted up the lid on the turntable and pissed all over it, thinking it was the loo.
Laugh? Absolutely pissed ourselves
To this day, nobody has owned up
One of us, in the night wandered into his room, lifted up the lid on the turntable and pissed all over it, thinking it was the loo.
Laugh? Absolutely pissed ourselves
To this day, nobody has owned up
Adam B said:
and now i am going to have try and find that tale of the guy on a date after a lethal curry and st
This one?tajcj said:
I confess to feeling selfconscious when last night's lamb dhansak, chana massala, keema naan and Cobra is struggling its way out and making a lot of fuss while it does, especially when the traps to either side are occupied by chaps who seem to be able to lay one down with barely a splash, but for true embarrassment, you need a hotel room on your first night away with a new cutie.
So lots of charming conversation and civilised behaviour and attention to personal hygiene and nipping outside to fart have paid off, and several months in it's time for a romantic weekend away. The hotel room is in a dead trendy boutique place, and the wall between bedroom and bathroom is frosted glass. All other bathroom walls are tiled for maximum reverb. The door is also glass, and does not seal in any way - half-inch gaps all round. So you are effectively in the same room as the bed, which is where you leave your amour, curled up and warm ("hurry back", she murmurs) on the morning after a nice moroccan meal with plenty of chickpeas, spiced lamb, felafel and so on, plus a couple of bottles of rough red, and whisky to finish. You pace with measured tread to the echo chamber, then hunker down to answer the insistent call from the lower colon.
To begin with, it sounded like a duck being strangled half-underwater, then as if thirty clowns wearing oversize rubber shoes were having a sprinting race over a massive bowl of jelly, then as I desperately applied restrictive pressure, it faded into an anguished squeak like a deflating balloon, then as my muscle control gave out, a series of small escaping explosions escalated into a titanic rasp that echoed for several seconds.
Having done the paperwork, brushed everywhere in the bowl, including the underside of the seat (how in the name of gravity could that have happened?), washed hands, and assumed as nonchalant an expression as I could muster, I strolled back in to find her sitting up, covers drawn protectively up under her chin, eyes like a lemur, asking whether I was ok, and did I need medical attention?
Kind of killed the mood, rather.
So lots of charming conversation and civilised behaviour and attention to personal hygiene and nipping outside to fart have paid off, and several months in it's time for a romantic weekend away. The hotel room is in a dead trendy boutique place, and the wall between bedroom and bathroom is frosted glass. All other bathroom walls are tiled for maximum reverb. The door is also glass, and does not seal in any way - half-inch gaps all round. So you are effectively in the same room as the bed, which is where you leave your amour, curled up and warm ("hurry back", she murmurs) on the morning after a nice moroccan meal with plenty of chickpeas, spiced lamb, felafel and so on, plus a couple of bottles of rough red, and whisky to finish. You pace with measured tread to the echo chamber, then hunker down to answer the insistent call from the lower colon.
To begin with, it sounded like a duck being strangled half-underwater, then as if thirty clowns wearing oversize rubber shoes were having a sprinting race over a massive bowl of jelly, then as I desperately applied restrictive pressure, it faded into an anguished squeak like a deflating balloon, then as my muscle control gave out, a series of small escaping explosions escalated into a titanic rasp that echoed for several seconds.
Having done the paperwork, brushed everywhere in the bowl, including the underside of the seat (how in the name of gravity could that have happened?), washed hands, and assumed as nonchalant an expression as I could muster, I strolled back in to find her sitting up, covers drawn protectively up under her chin, eyes like a lemur, asking whether I was ok, and did I need medical attention?
Kind of killed the mood, rather.
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