The Wankers

I was sitting at home one day, when I remembered a phone call I had to make. I found the number and dialed it. A man answered saying, "Hello?" I said, "This is Joe Bloggs, could I please speak to Freda Nerk?" Suddenly the phone was slammed down on me! I couldn't believe that anyone could be that rude. I tracked down Freda's correct number and called her. She had transposed the last two digits. After I hung up with Freda, I spotted the wrong number still lying there on my desk. I decided to call it again. When the same person once more answered, I yelled "You're a wanker!" and hung up. Next to his phone number I wrote the word "Wanker" 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. He'd answer, and I'd yell "Your'e a fucking wanker" then hang up. It always made me feel better

Later in the year caller ID was introduced. This was a real disappointment for me, I would have to stop calling The Wanker. Then one day I had an idea. I dialed his number, then heard his voice, "Hello." I made up a name. "Hi. This is Ron with TELSTRA and I'm just calling to see if you're familiar with our caller ID program?" He went, "No!" and slammed the phone down. I quickly called him back and said, "That's because you're a useless fucking wanker!"

The reason I took the time to tell you this story, is to show you how if there's ever anything really bothering you, you can do something about it. Just dial 722-4822.

This old lady at the shopping centre really took her time pulling out of the parking space. I didn't think she was ever going to leave. Finally her car began to move and she started to very slowly back out of the stall. I backed up a little more to give her plenty of room to pull out. Great, I thought, she's finally leaving. All of a sudden this black Monaro comes flying up the parking aisle in the wrong direction and pulls into her space. I started beeping my horn and yelling, "You can't just do that, mate. I was here first!" The guy climbed out of his Monaro, completely ignoring me and walked toward the shops as if he didn't even hear me. I thought to myself, “This guy's a another bloody wanker. There's sure a lot of ‘em in this world." I noticed he had a For Sale sign in the back window of his car. I wrote down the number, then I hunted for another place to park.

A couple of days later, I'm at home sitting at my desk. I had just gotten off the phone after calling 722-4822 and yelling, "You're a wanker!" (It's really easy to call him now since I have his number on speed dial). I noticed the phone number of the bloke with the black Monaro lying on my desk and thought I'd better call this wanker, too. After a couple of rings someone answered the phone and said, "Hello."… I said, "Is this the man with the black Monaro for sale?"… "Yes it is."… "Can you tell me where I can have a look at it?"… "Yes, I live at 14 Wombat Crescent. It's a yellow house and the car's parked right out front. I said, "What's your name?"…"My name is Ted Bullpit."…"When's a good time to catch you, Ted?" "I'm home in the evenings."…"Listen Ted, can I tell you something?"…"Yes."…"Ted, you're a wanker!" And I slammed the phone down. After I hung up I added Bullpit's number to my speed dialer.
For a while things seemed to be going better for me. Now when I had a problem I had two wankers to call.

Then after several months of calling the wankers and hanging up on them, the whole thing started to seem like an obligation. It just wasn't as enjoyable as it used to be. I gave the problem some serious thought and came up with a solution. First, I had my phone dial Wanker #1. A man answered nicely saying "Hello." I yelled "You're a wanker!" But I didn't hang up. The wanker said, "Are you still there?" I said, "Yeah." He said, "Stop calling me."…"No."…"What's your name, mate?"…"Ted Bullpit."…"Where do you live?"…"14 Wombat Crescent. It's a yellow house and my black Monaro's parked out front."…"I'm coming over right now, Ted. You'd better start saying your prayers."…"Yeah, like I'm really scared, wanker!" and hung up.

Then I called Wanker #2. He answered…"G’day, wanker!"…"If I ever find out who you are..."… "You'll what?"… "I'll kick your arse."… "Well, here's your chance, wanker. I'm coming over right now!", and hung up. Then I picked up the phone and called the cops. I told them a big gang fight was going on at Wombat Crescent. I climbed into my car and headed over to there to watch the whole thing. I parked my car under the shade of a tree half a block from Wanker #2's house. There were the two wankers fighting out front. Suddenly there were about half a dozen cop cars and a chopper. The cops wrestled the two wankers to the ground and took them away.

A couple of months go by and I get a call for jury duty. I was picked to be on a trial of two guys charged with causing an affray, aggravated assault and criminal damage... fucking wankers.