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The Last CaB post that made you GUFFAW out loud II: The GUFFAWther Part 2

Started by madhair60, December 06, 2019, 09:38:50 AM

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Rich Uncle Skeleton

Quote from: idunnosomename on December 19, 2019, 02:20:04 PM
I remember when I spent Christmas 1999 working as a fucking forklift driver. What were THAT all about eh

From the shenmue thread

madhair60

Quote from: Shoulders?-Stomach! on June 21, 2018, 11:34:13 PM
Bent over by a thug and arsefucked really hard during Step Up 2: The Streets. The usher walked in, shone the torch and just laughed. I can still hear the doors slamming behind him.


madhair60

Quote from: Goldentony on December 24, 2019, 09:43:02 PM
"excuse me everyone it's me Spielbrg, I must remind all of you this film is shit and i've clearly gone mental"


Ferris

Quote from: bgmnts on December 24, 2019, 11:21:12 PM
A Glinmas Carol in the Graham Linehan transphobe thread.

Yeah, a marvellous piece of work. Read it in full, it's worth it.

Quote from: bigfatheart on December 24, 2019, 10:04:12 PM
A Glinmas Carol

Mathews was dead to begin with. He had no doubt whatsoever about that. Each day, as Graham Linehan went to his office to begin his day's work of tweeting abuse, he thought of his former partner briefly. Only briefly, mind.

Linehan sat in his office with his assistant, an entirely fictional character he had invented to save face after he had once been unable to go two weeks without tweeting, as he had promised to do. He sat in silence, blue light burning his eyelids back into his head, occasionally murmuring to himself at a particularly good beard-related putdown.

Suddenly, there came a knock at the door. He opened it to see two familiar faces: Ardal O'Hanlon and Dylan Moran. "Graham," said one of them – he wasn't sure which, as he had already gone back to his phone – "We've come to invite you to spend tomorrow with us. It's Christmas Day tomorrow, you see, and we're going to raise money for Mermaids. Won't you come?"

"You want me to help a trans charity? Are there no prisons?"

"Graham, we've been over this, they're not doing it to get into women's toilets. And besides, a lack of understanding of body dysmorphia is one of the biggest contributors to teen suicide. Many would rather die."

"If they had want to die, they had better do so, and reduce the incel population. Good day sirs."

Linehan slammed the door and sat back down. He turned to the empty desk where he pretended his assistant was. "I suppose you'll be wanting tomorrow off."

"Yes," he replied, in a high-pitched voice. "I want to spend Christmas day with my son. He's a footballer. He's not very good, so he's having a sex change so that he can beat women at it. Also, he has a beard."

He furrowed his brow. "Very well," he muttered. "But you shan't be paid a penny. And be here all the earlier on Boxing Day morning."

Linehan went home, stopping briefly in a melancholy tavern to retweet J.K. Rowling and ask Matt Lucas if he had watched an anti-trans video he had sent him eight months earlier. He then continued home, where he settled down in front of a small fire with a small cup of gruel.

Suddenly, there was a great roar as the doors of his house flew open. A ghostly, pale figure entered. Linehan's mouth dropped in horror. Of all the sights that could have shocked him at that moment, none was more frightening than Mathews' ghost.

"Arthur!" he stammered. "But you're... dead!"

"No, Graham, I keep telling you, I'm not. I've just finished writing the next series of Toast of London, for God's sake. I'm here to hold another intervention."

"An intervention?"

"I have come to warn you to change your ways. You will be visited by three ghosts. They will show you the past, present, and that which is yet to come. Me and the other lads on the Father Ted musical think this is the only way you'll ever change now. Please listen, Graham."

"Hm?" Graham grunted. He had already returned to his phone, tweeting praise to a diet cooking oil that had claimed to have eliminated trans fats.

"Oh, for fucks sake," Mathews moaned. "Just be awake at midnight."

At midnight, Linehan was smiling as he essayed a good night's work, having forced a charity gig to combat period poverty to be cancelled because he didn't like their use of the word 'bleeder'. All of a sudden, the room was bathed in a blinding light. Ten minutes later, Linehan noticed it.

In front of him was a cherubic figure. "I am the Ghost of Glinner Past," it said. "I have come to show you the man you were." It placed a DVD into Linehan's DVD player, ejecting the Seinfeld DVD that Linehan had been carefully studying the last time he had written a script.

"Oh, spirit, what do you intend to show me?"

"Father Ted," the spirit replied. "The Fintan Stack episode."

"Woe!" cried Linehan. "Truly, the worst episode we ever made. Stack's just too menacing to work as a comedy character, and not once does Ted turn to the camera and scream repeatedly that Eddie Izzard is a dangerous misogynist. Spirit, if that is what you are, spare me this torment!"

Half an hour later, the spirit was chuckling, but beside him, Linehan remained unmoved. "Let us move on," said the spirit, placing a Black Books DVD into the player.

Still later, the spirit turned to Linehan. "See you now the lessons you must learn?"

"Of course, spirit!" sobbed Linehan. "I see it so clearly now! All my life I have been squandering my obvious talents for hateful rhetoric on light-hearted comedy! And the reason is obvious – I have been beset every step of the way by beards! Brendan Grace, Bill Bailey – all of these men prevented me from discovering my true calling until it was too late! Thank you, spirit, for showing me the light!"

"What? No, of course that wasn't- are you even listening to me?"

"Sorry, I had to retweet a picture of an unattractive man in a dress to my followers so that they could call him a freak and imply that he's a rapist. Don't worry, I get it, though – disassociate myself from all beards and keep at it."

"No, that's- oh, why bother. The other two can pick up the slack." And with that, the spirit was gone.

Almost immediately, his place was taken by another figure, an immense, burly man dressed in a green tunic and with a fulsome beard. A great aura of benevolence emanated from him, an aura that nobody possessed of a pure spirit and a good heart could deny.

"Graham Linehan, I have come-"

"BEARD," Linehan bellowed.

"I have come to show-"

"BEARD."

"But seriously-"

"BEARD."

"Oh, fuck it," the spirit said. "Life's too short, and I've already got Ricky Gervais to try and stop being a cunt before the night's over. Anyway, all I was going to show you was your imaginary assistant's imaginary family. Maybe if we had time I'd have taken you to the loneliest people on Earth – users of Glindr."

"OK, boo-mer," Linehan replied (with apologies to Old Gold Tooth).

As the spirit left, a third appeared in his place. It was a ghostly figure, painted head to toe in black. In one hand was a chart depicting medieval causes of death, and in the other was a can of chickpeas. On its head was a pineapple.

"Are you the spirit of Glinner yet to come?" said Linehan, his knees buckling in fear.

"Well, I'm David Baddiel, really," he said, "But yes, that's who I'm playing."

"Isn't the third spirit usually mute?"

"This is the first time in my career that I've been the funny one in a double act, let me have this. Anyway, I don't just do this for anyone. If you didn't have a blue tick I wouldn't even be talking to you."

"I'm sorry. What is it you want to show me?"

"Well, what I really want to show you is some of my Mum's golf memorabilia which I have in the car. I've got a really funny routine, but apparently everyone's seen it. So instead I have to show you what happens after you die."

The spirit led Linehan to the city, where they saw a group of young men talking.

"Right old nutter, wasn't he?" said one young man with a wispy beard.

"I assumed he'd died years ago," said another man with thick glasses. "He hadn't written anything in years, anyway."

"I preferred Paris, anyway," said a pedant who was already planning the hilarious jokes he would post on Cook'd and Bomb'd later.

"Good lord," said Linehan. "Will none of them remember me for my crusading?"

"What?" the spirit replied. "Sorry, I was too busy blaming the Zeebrugge ferry disaster on Jeremy Corbyn."

"Never mind," Linehan replied, his hand twitching towards the phone in his trouser pocket. "Take me to my grave, that's how this usually goes, isn't it?"

They sped on to a graveyard. The spirit raised its withered hand and pointed to a grave at the top of a hill. "Up there," he said. "Look, if there's time after you're done, do you want to hear one of my four number one hits?"

Linehan reached the top of the hill, where he saw, engraved on his headstone, "GRAHAM LINEHAN – MAD OLD TWAT".

"Wonderful," he said. "I'm on the right side of history!"

Linehan awoke in his chair, drool encrusted on his chin and his phone in his hand. It had all been a dream! He checked Twitter and saw that he had been asleep for four hours. After replying to all the DMs from TERFs checking that he was still alive, he leapt for joy, for he was alive, and there was so much time to do his work in!

He went to the window. Spotting a young boy below, he shouted "You there, boy! What day is this?"

"Today, sir? Why, today is Christmas day!"

"Marvellous! Then the schools will be closed, and they won't be able to fill your mind with incel propaganda!"

"Eh?"

Linehan danced about his house, filled with a glee he hadn't felt in years. If there was a transwoman being kicked to a pulp by skinheads in front of him, he couldn't have felt giddier. He vowed that for the rest of his days he would be crueller, and meaner, and more vindictive than he had ever been before. And he was as good as his word, and to the trans community, he was a persistent bogeyman, with no beard too thin to note, and no transwoman too attractive for him to refer to as a freak. God help us, every one!

Twit 2

Quote from: idunnosomename on December 23, 2019, 12:07:38 PM
Genuinely, i truly hope that Prince Phillip spends this Christmas in a significant amount of pain and then dies.

chveik

christmas deso thread, and particularly this one

Quote from: Fishfinger on December 22, 2016, 09:39:18 PM
Jesus Christ kicks off his untimely return to Earth with an aggressive wave of intellectual property lawsuits.

Blue Jam


gib

From the christmas teenage bedroom thread

Quote from: thecuriousorange on December 25, 2019, 11:23:08 PMI'm watching Kylie at Glastonbury alone with a bottle of Guinness.

Quote from: Ray Travez on December 26, 2019, 10:23:16 AM
That doesn't sound like much of a show.














Quote from: Utterdrivel on December 26, 2019, 09:56:18 PM
Depends what she's doing with the bottle.

idunnosomename

yes. a lol. shame on us all for not booting that one out of the park earlier.

madhair60


SteveDave

Quote from: Deyv on July 06, 2018, 09:19:20 PM
Similar story in Croydon, pricks being pricks in the row behind me and I was getting so annoyed my friend leaned over and said "are you okay?" and I shouted "I'M FINE, I JUST WANT THESE WANKERS TO SHUT THE FUCK UP." They did and I like to think everyone else there was applauding me in their minds, but didn't want to make more of a fuss before Minions had reached its thrilling climax.


jenna appleseed

Re: Home town at Christmas (gnome edition)
Quote from: idunnosomename on December 26, 2019, 08:42:15 PM
Ha ha ha
Hee hee hee
Driving gnome for Christmas and you can't catch me

willy crossit

Quote from: Shoulders?-Stomach! on January 06, 2020, 03:44:55 PM
Bully #1 - Impotent through being DEAD
Bully #2 - Locked in syndrome, genital herpes and crohns - BYE MATE
Bully #3 - Prison, more holes than a fucked sponge
Bully #4 - Fat bald cunt whose kids have been RESCINDED
Bully #5 - Botched stomach staple sex offender
Bully #6 - At large in GRIMSBY
Bully #7 - FUCKING CARES


canadagoose


BritishHobo

This has really really tickled me:

Quote from: weekender on January 06, 2020, 07:21:01 PM
Not sure if serious.

If you are, then Center Parcs lodges go for great prices at this time of year, basically because no-one goes on holiday in mid-January.

4 Nights stay in a 4-Bedroom Woodland Lodge was £359 at Whinfell Forest earlier this week.

Split that between 4 people at it works out at £359/4.  Split it between 8 and it works out at £359/8.

Dex Sawash

Quote from: BritishHobo on January 06, 2020, 10:41:20 PM
This has really really tickled me:

And you know he'd worked out the sums or products or whatever you call the answer.

Dex Sawash


madhair60

Quote from: Chollis on December 17, 2019, 05:01:05 PM
"A vasectomy is a fairly routine procedure Mr. Play-it-safe, I'll simply cut and tie the male- "

"I want the whole cock gone."

Jim Bob

Quote from: Cerys on January 08, 2020, 03:43:35 AM
I have just been alerted to the plight of a large spider that had fallen in one of the cat water bowls.  Kudos to Spoony for not simply slurping up the hapless arachnid like some bizarre Hallowe'en game.  Instead he stood by the bowl, hopping from foot to foot in much the same way as might a grandfather with a bladder emergency upon finding an unexpected item in the bogging area.  I rescued the moist spider, and Spoony buggered off to find more things of scuttling interest.  And there was much rejoicing.

Quote from: Cerys on January 08, 2020, 03:43:35 AM...an unexpected item in the bogging area.

Brilliant.

Cerys



holyzombiejesus

Quote from: Panbaams on January 10, 2020, 12:08:27 PM
Apparently the new album is available on coloured vinyl. Although of course, that may be just how Morrissey refers to regular records.




Jim Bob

From the 'Glory Holes' thread...

Quote from: shiftwork2 on January 11, 2020, 12:37:33 PM
I've posted about it before but I once had an unsolicited erection offered for consideration at Birmingham New St station.  There was a kind of curtain fashioned from toilet roll over a hole.  The curtain parted and it just emerged, you know.  Bold as brass.  Some moderate gasp of surprise from myself and I just exited, as I left I saw it retract.  A cuckoo clock, as I think a poster in the thread later described it.  Cuckoo!

Quote from: beanheadmcginty on January 11, 2020, 02:02:57 PM
Cuckoo cock surely?

Both of these posts gave me a good chuckle.