Bit of a read, but pretty funny
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 David. 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 an arsehole!" and
hung up. I wrote his number down with the word 'arsehole' 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 an arsehole!"
It always cheered me up.
When Caller ID was introduced, I thought my therapeutic "arsehole" 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
He yelled "NO!" and slammed down the phone.
I quickly called him back and said, "That's because you're an arsehole!"
One day I was at Lakeside Shopping Centre, getting ready to pull into a
parking spot. Some guy in a 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 arsehole (I had his
number on speed dial), I thought that I'd better call the Land Rover
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 Alice Street, in Ilford. 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?"
"Steve, you're an arsehole!"
Then I hung up, and added his number to my speed dial, too. Now, when I
had a problem, I had two arseholes to call.
Then one day I came up with an idea. I called arsehole #1.
"You're an arsehole!" (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 Alice Street, Ilford, 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, arsehole," and hung up.
Then I called arsehole #2.
"Hello?" he said.
"Hello, arsehole," I said.
He yelled, "If I ever find out who you are..."
"You'll do what?" I said.
"I'll kick your arse," he exclaimed.
I answered, "Well, arsehole, here's your chance. I'm coming over right
Then I hung up and immediately called the police, saying that I lived at
129 Alice Street, Ilford, 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 Alice Street, Ilford.
I quickly got into my car and headed over to Alice Street. I got there
just in time to watch two arseholes 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.