chuggers - cnuts



Ive just been approached, nay, violated by a chugger and I need some advice on how to deal with these cretins.
For those of you who may be unfamiliar with the term, 'chugger' is simply 'CHarity mUGGER''.

You know the type, bright yellow t-shirt, rather overanimated,talks too fast to understand. Generally a student layabout type who for some reason or another has decided to spend his/her days stopping people out in the street and trying to get them to give money to or

So there I was walking down the road, mobile in hand, minding my own business. I look up, I spot the roadblock (they hunt in packs, and spread themselves all over the pavement, on both sides to catch as many unsuspecting victims as they can).
People try to walk round, but are simply caught by one of the other loud t-shirted idiots hiding behind a tree, in the confusion that is a large crowd of people all trying to avoid them, I'm trapped, no way out.

Chugger runs up to me, arms flailing like a demented parrot, bestest stage school smile on full whack, clipboard in hand ;

"oh sh*t" I mutter loudly to myself, "no way out of this one Hoo, just tell him to do one"

"HI, can you spare two minutes for my random cancer charity of the week" shrieks the mong

The situation is made immediately worse by three factors:

1; He is, or appears to be, South African, so Ive got no chance of understanding him.
2; He smells, and I mean in a 'needs a regimental bath' kinda way.
3; He has hair that appears to have been cut by a blind, one armed, illegal immigrant working in supercuts.

"sorry fella", I lie, " Ive got to get back to work, and quick"

He doesnt take it and what felt like an hours conversation ensued in full view of everyone on the street with him turning round just about every excuse I offer him, asking for my address, bank details, everything, the cnut.

Finally I lose it;

"Look you cnut, I'm clearly not interested so fcuk off!" I shout

People stop dead in the street, jaws drop, people stare..

"no need to be like that, don't u want to help people less fortunate than yourself?" he whines

"Look, you smelly tw*t, my uncle has recently been diagnosed with aggressive brain cancer, he has lost control of all of one side of his body and doesnt have very long. While I believe that cancer research is a worthwile charity if I want to help, Ill buy him grapes, push his weelchair up steep hills for him but I'm not gonna be stopped by some cretin in the street and give over all of my personal information. If I want to be robbed,I'll leave my front door open, but I don't so FCUK OFF!!!!!"

theres an eery silence on the street, everyone is now competely silent but a crying baby in the distance...

Short of shoeing him in the bollocks I could think of nothing else to do to get rid of this idiot, the verbal K.O had the desired effect though and he trundled off to have a sit down.

I meanwhile had to carry on walking down the street, people staring, muttering either "well done mate, that told him" or "fcuking nutter" :oops: :oops:

How would you have dealt with this mong? have you had similiar experiences? was I , too harsh?...........

RANT OVER......and....relax...
good one i stick to the point blank ignoring dont make eye contact just walk past even if they are talking at you or standing right infront of you.
Been done i'm afraid gents

Worst thnig is, the lazy fuskers get PAID for it. Hardly charitable, is it?
HooHa - perhaps you should have quetly offered him a shoeing in a Tim-Weston-Bent-Close-To-Face pose (you're clearly a fan...) topped off by a full-volume spitshower GEDDAWAY, CNUT!


Book Reviewer
Being intolerant can, and occasionally does, lead me into situations of confrontation.

I was stopped in the same way a few weeks ago by a young lady of red striped hair and multiple face piercings who felt that vivisection and animal testing are of the utmost importance.

After thirty seconds of her tree hugging, lentil scented fragrance I could feel my blood pressure rising and the usual wind up diatribe along the lines of.

MiB “Not really bothered about it, love.”
Miss Lentils “But animals are being tortured by cosmetic co..”
MiB “What would you know about cosmetics?”
Miss Lentils “Cosmetics and pharmaceutical companies such as…”
MiB “Have you thought of using deodorant?”
Miss Lentils (still not listening) “over 1,000 animals a week……”
MiB “Listen, Love, have you ever heard of Iraq?”
Miss Lentils “Yes, but I am……”
MiB “Are you concerned about genocide in Rwanda”
Miss Lentils “Yes but we are campaigning to stop….”
MiB “So you are aware of an illegal war in the middle east started by our and the US government for political gain as well as the unchecked racial murder and cannibalism in Africa?

Miss Lentils “Yes, but..”
MiB “But you still think that stopping someone stabbing puppies in the eye with a bar of soap is more important?”
Miss Lentils (who is now close to tears)
“Snivel….animal testing………..”
MiB “Is of less importance than children starving in Iraq and Sudanese women getting raped, is it?”
Miss Lentils “Wibble, snivel….”
MiB “Would you like some advice on how to make a difference to these causes.”
Miss Lentils “Yes.”
MiB “Have a fcuking bath and then go down to the army recruiting office.”

MiB exit stage right leaving bewildered skanky bird to contemplate her pictures of rabbits with a bottle of Head and Shoulders.

By the way, I didn’t know rabbits had a problem with dandruff.
shared your story with the chaps at digi forums and this cam back courtesy of Bert

"Easiest thing in the world. Cock out and start pissing on their feet while explaining that they stopped you getting to the bog on time with their incessant prattle."

MiB you are the DUDE! That's the way to turn the situation around... But you could have had the whole lot of em pointing you out as some kind of militaristic nutter.

Personally I push past them uttering some profanity, maybe suggesting that they commit a sexual act with themselves!
Bloke stopped me in town about a month ago, wanting money for Taiwanese orphanages or something. More plaque than a trophy shop on his needle-like teeth (which he seemed to enjoy displaying) as he explained the plight of orphans and how those in that country are worse-off than those in another country.
Then handed me the form and clipboard. No "So would you like to donate?" or even "Do you have a bank account?" - just assumed I was going to sign whatever he gave me. I tried to play stupid, saying "I don't have a Direct Debit", although why I didn't just say "I don't have a bank account" I don't know... I did however realise I had no details on me (phew) and said I'd nip over to the bank and get me numbers and stuff for him.

Cue me and mate legging it down an alleyway to the bus stop in order to avoid the sweeping patrols and search 'copters (well, not that bad but close) of the bloody buggers :x
Until recently, I too was like you lot, I despised chuggers and resented them stealing my oxygen and time.
But a couple of weeks ago, whilst strolling through Leicester square after a particularly agreeable (liquid) lunch, I had what I can only describe as a "road to Damascus" moment.
Her name was Cat, she was from Nova Scotia, and she was absolutely drop-dead gorgeous in a girl-next-door kinda way.
Anyway, she was chugging for..........oh who cares, she had the most perfect perky, sit-up and beg chebs, and a smile that made me feel warm all over (but particularly in my trousers :oops: ) and the five minutes I spent chatting to (flirting with) her were not wasted, as she has fuelled and starred in many an erotic daydream since.
God she was good/hot/shag-a-licious, I'm ashamed to admit, I teetered momentarily on the brink of A: signing over my hard-earned wonga, and B: asking her to run away with me to the moors where we would f*ck like wild mink on viagra, and knit organic, lentil-yarn cardigans for blind, destitute, chemically-blinded bunnies.
Thank feck I'm English and a Yorkshireman to boot, I maintained my outward composure, politely declined her request, and made good my escape, with my dignity and self-respect still more or less intact.
tell you what any soft cnut that gives the nigerian ones the bank details must be tapped in the fookin head... you know ya details are sold on to the highest bidder (usually a bag of khat) and you will see your funds dwindelling pretty soon :)
But without her phone number?!
CarpeDiem said:
But without her phone number?!
Sadly, she is 19, and I'm 39 :( I'm not saying that I coudnt, just that I shoudnt! (sigh) :wink:
I find the best thing to do is pretend you don't speak English. Just in case one of them can speak German, I use Basel-Deutsch - a dialect of Swiss-German that not even the Germans understand. If it turns out they speak Italian, I switch to "Cacurrese", a dialect from Calabria whence my wife comes. Using French of Spanish, I've found, is not much use, since many of them have a good understanding of the languages.

But there do seem to be morerer and morerer of them every time I go into town. If this goes on, we'll soon be seeing little urchins with arms full of crap Timex knock-offs hailing us with: "Hey, you wan buy cheap watch, Johnnie?" followed by: "Hey, you wan fcuk my sista, Johnnie?" Even worse will be their oily fathers trying to coax us around the corner into the uncle's carpet shop.
I can see it coming.

I use the "Hard target" Method of dealing with theses numptys. Instead of legging it like a drunken Scotsman on fire, Pick your route slowly avoiding "Chuggers" "Big Issue vendors" "Market research wahs" "Pro/Anti Hunt campaigners" "10 cig lighters for a pound and third degree burns to boot"
Supported with a Raised hand, and a growl. If all else fails tell 'em to Fcuk off.
discodan said:
thats a pile of boll0x... you shoulda been right in there :)
Oh alright, I'll admit it, I DO have her phone number, as she scribbled it onto a blank corporate business card, but as I get older I get more cautious about getting involved with nubile nymphettes. Perhaps I need to give myself a good talking to. (and her, a good seeing to! :D )

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