‘Listen mate ; don’t waste your time down at the surgery’, Mike replies. There’s a diagnostic computer at Tesco. Just give it a urine sample and the computer will tell you what’s wrong, and what to do about it. It takes ten seconds and only costs five quid….a lot quicker and better than a doctor and you get Clubcard points’.

So Jack collects a urine sample in a small jar and takes it to Tesco. He deposits five pounds and the computer lights up and asks for the urine sample. He pours the sample into the slot and waits.

Ten seconds later, the computer ejects a printout: ‘You have tennis elbow. Soak your arm in warm water and avoid heavy activity. It will improve in two weeks’.

That evening while thinking how amazing this new technology was, Jack began wondering if the computer could be fooled.

He mixed some tap water, a stool sample from his dog, urine samples from his wife and daughter, and ‘pleasured himself’ into the mixture for good measure. Jack hurried back to Tesco, eager to check what would happen.

He deposits five pounds, pours in his concoction, and awaits the results with a grin. The computer prints the following:

1) Your tap water is too hard. Get a water softener.

2) Your dog has ringworm. Bathe him with anti-fungal shampoo.

3) Your daughter has a cocaine habit. Get her into rehab.

4) Your wife is pregnant. Twins. They aren’t yours. Get a lawyer.

5) And if you don’t stop playing with yourself, your elbow will never get better….

Thank you for shopping at Tesco

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 number moron!’ 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 idiot!’ and hung up.

I wrote his number down with the word ‘idiot’ 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 idiot!’ It always cheered me up.

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. 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 idiot (I had his number on speed dial,).

I thought that I’d better call the Land Rover idiot, 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 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?’

‘Yes?’

‘Steve, you’re an idiot!’

Then I hung up, and added his number to my speed dial, too.

Now, when I had a problem, I had two idiots to call. Then one day I came up with an idea. I called idiot #1. ‘Hello?’ ‘You’re an idiot!’ (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… idiot.’ and hung up. Then I called idiot #2. ‘Hello?’ he said. ‘Hello, idiot,’ I said. He yelled, ‘If I ever find out who you are…’ ‘You’ll do what?’ I said.

‘I’ll kick your head in,’ he exclaimed. I answered, ‘Well, idiot, 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 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 idiots beating the brains 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.

In WoW, “feign death” is a skill acquired by hunters at level 30 that allows them to take a page from the possum playbook, collapse to the ground, and convince their enemies — who lose all ingrained animosity in the process — that they’ve died.

According to Norwegian site Nettavisen , Hans and his sister apparently enraged one of the local moose (mooses? meese?) during a walk in the forest near their home. After shouting at the gigantic creature to ward it away from his sister, Olsen dropped to the ground, and presumably his lifebar plummeted to zero.

Moose have never been known as the wisest creature in the forest, and the boy’s show of necrosis seems to have worked, as both he and his sister survived intact.