The Guilty Confessions Thread

Discussion in 'The NAAFI Bar' started by TheresaMay, Jul 22, 2013.

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  1. TheresaMay

    TheresaMay LE Moderator DirtyBAT

    I know most of you lot have little or no conscience, especially when it comes to bullying the weak and picking on the pond life of society – and rightly so. But despite this disposition, I have on occasion suffered a little ‘reflected guilt’.

    …For example, back in my secondary school days, there was a young lady in Form 3S (AKA The dumping ground for the school’s under-achievers) who walked with a funny limp. Our merry crowd of mates would regularly ‘beat-box’ each time she strode past in time to her ‘bounce’, orchestrated beautifully by yours truly. It wasn’t until later in life I was watching some medical programme and saw a woman walking the exact same way – at which point I was overcome with guilt whilst working out how many lunch times and break times at school me and my mates had spent beat-boxing to the young girl with what turned out to be Cerebral Palsy…

    …On a separate occasion, I was instructing at a previous post and as a result, was always ‘invited’ to attend the various passing out / scrolling type get togethers at the end of the respective courses.

    This time I’d turned up fairly late, but it didn’t matter as we were still awaiting our final student. This guy (unlike the others) wasn’t getting promoted because he’d given his missus a bit of a kick-in a few weeks previous, which the chain of command had taken a little bit of a dim view to. As you can imagine – this dominated the conversation from the cheap seats reserved for guests and DS whilst we were waiting for the student in question along with the presiding officer to award the passes.

    By this time, I’d noted that the seat to my immediate right was now occupied but hadn’t really clicked on to who it might have been. The conversation continued as I loudly announced that “the psycho bitch probably fucking deserved it by all accounts anyway”. By now, all those people that were tuned-in to my convo were now sporting that “wide-eyed” look and blushed faces that would otherwise suggest that one should shut up immediately. Unfortunately, I’d carried on and already spouted several examples of justification before I realised it was the final student’s missus that had perched herself next to me. The look on her face was priceless – albeit her face wasn’t as red as mine.

    On reflection I do feel a little guilty about these past encounters when I look back on it. Maybe I’m getting soft as I mature and mellow – who knows?

    Anyway, fuckers – what guilty skeletons do you have in your closets?

    Over to you...
  2. i knobbed a WRAC officers lipstick, she left her wash bag loafing on adventure training... i was only 17 at the time and watch her apply lipstick daily for 2 wks lol
  3. Oh the hilarity! How did you shag lipstick, surely your knob is not that small!
  4. looks like an award acceptance speech
  5. I used to take the piss out of a poor kid who, due to his malnourished musculature, couldn't keep up when the insults over his Tesco jeans and faux leather 'Budgie' jacket cranked up his Kilburn Irish rage and he would chase me round the Victorian edifice of our school until, exhausted, he would burst into tears. Ah, happy days. Cheers for the workouts Tommy. Ya pauper ye.

    Worst of all I have created no sockpuppet accounts.
  6. Drivers_lag

    Drivers_lag On ROPs

    I'm sorry to the then Mayor of Fleetwood, who's speech I ruined and confidence I shattered about ten years ago.

    T'was long ago and far away on the Isle Of Man. Things are a bit different there and I happened to be mates with the mayor of Douglas of the previous year.

    He invited me along to the mayor's ball, so I got myself a tux and a date and set off to dinner, bejewelled with medals as I was.

    Fuck me, it was wank. The catering company had managed to squeeze 400 people into a room that could take 200. The waiters couldn't get about, the kitchen couldn't cope. Some big fat dignitary's wife sat behind me, occupying all her own space and 3/4 of mine and the catering company had ensured that I had no elbow room, necessitating that I should eat cold food like a preying mantis.

    To add insult to injury, come the guest mayor's speech... well, the poor bloke was a wreck, had nothing to say and said it too quietly leaving the whole room straining to hear his boring drivel, delivered in a halting monotone.

    And I snapped. Jerking my thumb at the mayor I turned to my date and began mocking. It went something like this -
    'Shurrup', whimpered Zoe with tears of laughter rolling down her face.. 'SHURRUP... shurrup, ffs'

    In my drunken stupour I didn't realise that he could hear me and as he got worse because of it, I became more enraged and louder. I did not see the ex mayor's face turning purple with impotent fury as the densley packed throng prevented him from getting to me.

    I did not realise that I was at this point louder than the mayor and the entire room straining to hear could only hear me. As an honoured guest I had been granted a seat at what you might call the second table, directly between the top table and the masses.

    I did not see the master of ceremonies steaming across the room until it was too late.

    It was like something out of Laurel and Hardy as I was hurled down the steps of The Hilton in my tuxedo.

    I still daren't go to Fleetwood.

    Sorry about that, your Grace. I do hope you recovered.
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  7. u cunt pittswamper the poor blokes prob on prozac for the rest of his life
  8. When HRH Prince Phillip visited BATARSE in the late 80's I was on TS and could do a bit of caligraphy, so was asked to write the usual blurb in the Mess visitors book and also in a book that was to be presented to HRH.

    The book was about wildlife on the Prairies of Alberta. After I'd finished the caligraphy, I had a browse through the book and there was a picture of an elk, so what else could I do? I drew a massive cock and balls on it. Quite pleased HRH didnt have a scan through it after being presented to him. Might have appealed to his sense of humour, I don't know.
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  9. I still feel guilty about the time I blew up my CO's garden with about 2 tonnes of ANFO.

    I told him it was going to be a duck pond, and that he could shoot the ducks from his bedroom window.

    I lied.

    He ended up with about 4½ acres of a quagmire, about 3-4 metres deep.

    Serves the bastard right for putting me on a fizzer for rolling a landrover.

    See, I lied again.

    I don't feel guilty, the bastard deserved it.
  10. True dit.

    Many years ago there was this lass in the year below me at school, she was never liked and was always being bullied by all and sundry. It was assumed that she would probably end up on Benefits for the rest of her life and no doubt would be producing sprogs left, right and centre.

    Well one out of two was correct, then she started making a shed load of money ......... we never knew that Susan Boyle would make such a good life for herself
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  11. Aged 6, I poured a bottle of coke over a downer of a similar age, I didnt want her getting in the paddling pool naked by all accounts.

    Aged about 14 I took a shit in my stepbrothers bed. After his dad died he had become a born again bed-wetter, so when he tried to say the shit wasnt his, he wasnt widely believed...

    I also got a headshot on him with my catapult, which left him with stitches. Couldnt worm my way out of that one.

    A bit more recently, I popped round to an ex's for a quickie, whilst on the way to a meal with the girlfriend of the time and her parents. Managed to get the ex's hormone jam slopped all down the front of my stonewashed levi's. When I realised that I had no way of cleaning my jeans before dinner, I concocted a bullshit story about getting mugged enroute.
    So not only did I pay nothing for the meal with the gf and her parents, I also got sympathy sucks on demand for the following few weeks.

    Most recently I shot my neighbours cat, sorry.

    Probably more repressed memories to come.
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  12. My work at Beckford Primary was all in good stead.
    I shall go to bed tonight a happy man safe in the knowledge that a pauper dreads the mention of his Tesco bombers being 'Fackin' shit' and needs psychiatric help to get out of his festering pit of an early afternoon.
    • Like Like x 1
  13. conscience walt.
  14. First year of primary school. Been living in Germany as my dad was posted to Nienberg holding back the 3rd shock army armed with pickhelves and yellow handbags.

    When we came back to Britain I joined school halfway through the year and as the new kid, became a bit of a target.

    One particular lad really had it in for me but I got my own back in the bogs. I had unzipped by the urinals and about to unload when said arsehole came to the next pisspot. I right faced and pissed all over the cunts left leg.

    Guess who was the target for bullying for the rest of the year.

    Pissy pants. I'm sorry....

    (No I'm fucking not, you cunt)

    Posted from the ARRSE Mobile app (iOS or Android)
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    • Funny Funny x 1
  15. I don't keep the skeletons in my closet.
    I use them as ornaments. My kids even refer to my house as the dead zoo!
    • Like Like x 3