When you occasionally have a really bad day, and you just need to take it out on someone, don't take it out on someone you know,
take it out on someone you don't know.

I was sitting at my desk when I remembered a phone call I'd forgotten to make. I found the number and dialled it. A man answered,
saying "Hello." I politely said, "This is Spencer. Could I please speak with Robert Campbell?"

Suddenly a manic voice yelled out in my ear "Get the right f*kin number!" and the phone was slammed down on me. I couldn't believe that anyone could be so rude.

When I tracked down Robert's correct number to call him, I found that I had accidentally transposed the last two digits.

After hanging up with him, I decided to call the 'wrong' number again. When the same guy answered the phone, I yelled "You're a C.unt!" and hung up.
I wrote his number down with the word 'C.unt' next to it, and put it in my desk drawer. Every couple of weeks, when I was paying bills or had a really bad day, I'd call him up and yell, "You're a C.unt!" It always cheered me up.

When Caller ID was introduced, I thought my therapeutic "C.unt" calling would have to stop. So, I called his number and said, "Hi, this is John Smith from BT. I'm calling to see if you're familiar with our Caller ID Program?"
He yelled "NO!" and slammed down the phone.
I quickly called him back and said, "That's because you're a C.unt!"

One day I was at Barnstable Shopping Centre, getting ready to pull into a parking spot. Some guy in gunmetal grey Land Rover cut me
off and pulled into the spot I had patiently waited for. I hit the horn and yelled that I'd been waiting for that spot, but the idiot ignored me. I noticed a "For Sale" sign in his back window, so I wrote down his number.

A couple of days later, right after calling the first C.unt (I had his number on speed dial,) I thought that I'd better call the Land Rover C.unt, too.

I said, "Is this the man with the gunmetal grey Land Rover for sale?" Yes, it is", he said.
"Can you tell me where I can see it?" I asked.
"Yes, I live at 129 Well Street, in Torrington. It's a terraced house, and the car's parked right out in front."

"What's your name?" I asked.
"My name is Steve Hansen," he said.
"When's a good time to catch you, Steve?"
"I'm home most days as I'm currently unemployed."
"Listen, Steve, can I tell you something?"
"Yes?"
"Steve, you're a C.unt!"

Then I hung up, and added his number to my speed dial, too. Now, when I have a problem, I have two ***s to call.
Then one day I came up with an idea. I called C.unt #1.

"Hello?"
"You're a C.unt!" (But I didn't hang up.)
"Are you still there?" he asked.
"Yeah," I said.
"Stop calling me," he screamed.
"Make me," I said.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"My name is Steve Hansen."
"Yeah? Where do you live?"
"I live at 129 Well Street, Torrington, a terraced house, with my gunmetal grey Land Rover parked out the front."
He said, "I'm coming over right now, Steve. And you had better start saying your prayers."
I said, "Yeah, like I'm really scared, C.unt," and hung up.

Then I called C.unt #2. "Hello?" he said.
"Hello, C.unt," I said.
He yelled, "If I ever find out who you are".
"You'll do what?" I said.
"I'll kick your ***," he exclaimed.
I answered, "Well, C.unt, here's your chance. I'm coming over right now."

Then I hung up and immediately called the police, saying that I lived at 129 Well Street, Torrington, and that I was on my way over there to kill my gay lover. Then I called Channel 5 News about the hoodie war going down in Well Street, Torrington.

I quickly got into my car and headed over to Well Street. I got there just in time to watch two C.unts beating the crap out of each other in front of six police cars, an overhead police helicopter and a news crew.

Now I feel MUCH better - Take it from me "Anger Management" really works

LOVE IT!

I almost involuntarily urinated (Psalm-singingly correct swearing) myself laughing!

A young couple was making passionate love (Psalm-singingly correct for f.ucking) in the blokes panel van (you know, shag carpets, big double mattress in the back... all that) when suddenly the girl, being a bit on the kinky side, yells out "Oh big boy, whip me, whip me!" The bloke, not wanting to pass up this unique opportunity, obviously did not have any whips on hand, but in a flash of inspiration, he opens the window, snaps the aerial off his van and proceeds to whip the girl until they both collapse in sadomasochistic ecstasy.

About a week later, the girl notices that the marks left by the whipping session are starting to fester a bit so she goes to the doctor. The doctor takes one look at the wounds and asks, "Did you get these marks having sex?" The girl is a little embarrassed but admits that, yes, she did. Nodding his head knowingly the doctor exclaims, "I thought so, because in all my years of doctoring, you've got the worst case of van aerial disease that I've ever seen."

__________________
"Whoever imagines himself a favorite with God holds others in contempt."
-- Robert Green Ingersoll, lawyer and orator (1833-1899)

Thanks so much, lunecat - I pissed myself (but it was voluntary).

__________________
"A man's work is nothing but this slow trek to rediscover, through the detours of art, those two or three great and simple images in whose presence his heart first opened."

A man and a woman who had never met before, but were both married to other people, found themselves assigned to the same sleeping room on a
transcontinental train. Though initially embarrassed and uneasy over sharing a room, they were both very tired and fell asleep quickly... he in the upper bunk
and she in the lower.

At 1:00 AM, the man leaned over and gently woke the woman saying, "Ma'am, I'm sorry to bother you, but would you be willing to reach into
the closet to get me a second blanket? I'm awfully cold."
"I have a better idea," she replied. "Just for tonight, let's pretend that we're married."
"Wow! That's a great idea!" he exclaimed.

"Good," she replied. "Get your own (censored) blanket."

After a moment of silence, he farted