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This is a question Stupid Dares

I once dared my mate to eat one of those blue cakes out of a urinal. He won his 50p, and got his stomach pumped into the bargain.

Stupid dares, eh?

(, Thu 1 Nov 2007, 11:22)
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This question is now closed.

Why you shouldn't snort anything that isn't drugs.
On a mate's 18th birthday I got appropriately drunk and was dared to snort a line of pepper the length of a DVD case. Not one to back down, I agreed, snorted it, it hurt like hell, but I'd won.

Then they told me that if I did another one, they'd give me a fiver.

There's a video of me somewhere swearing and vomitting foam. It was the most unpleasant thing I've ever done.

As soon as I'd done throwing up, the fiver was spent on more alcohol to wash the taste away. Never again.
(, Wed 7 Nov 2007, 14:33, Reply)
I dare ......
The B3ta powers that be to change the qotw early and send us all into a spasm of excitment and bewilderment.
(, Wed 7 Nov 2007, 13:32, 18 replies)
where Christians dare
I was at a Bible Retreat with a few of my friends and we were all sitting round the campfire singing our faves like "Oh Lord," "Lord, You Are Our Lord," and the timeless "Lord Lord Lord" when Jacob got a glint in his eye.

"Dare you to drink that whole 1.5 litre bottle of Irn Bru!" he yelped at Caleb.

In a flash, Caleb had pulled the plastic cap off and started glugging it back. To our amazement, he polished it all off and did a nasty belch too! We were well impressed. So then Jacob turns to Judith and says, "I dare you to recite Psalm 14 backwards!"

A hush settled over the group, but Judith was game and - from memory - recited the whole thing in reverse, to our universal admiration. That girl sure knows her scripture.

The Jacob turned his bucktoothed, freckled gingernut of a head to me and shouted: "Frank! I dare you to hold your hand over the flames for as long as you can!"

My mind was in turmoil. 'What would Jesus do?' I thought. Then it came to me. I opened my Bible, slipped my palm inside and then wrapped a piece of baling wire around the book so that my hand was sandwiched between the covers of the good book. Then I thrust my hand into the fire.

An ominous silence settled over the group as the cover began to smoulder and the Lord's word began to go up in smoke. Judith started to sob and Jacob soiled himself. Isiah (the fat kid, not the prophet) went into convulsions and let forth a sloppy fart as he passed out. And I kept my hand in the fire for five minutes, protected by the Holy Scripture.

"You... you b-b-b-bburned a bible!" said Jacob through the stench of his own ordure.

"And now it's my turn," I said. I dare, you, Jacob, to get your cock out and toss into Judith's open mouth."

And that's pretty much how I was found to be a non-believer at that Bible Retreat.
(, Wed 7 Nov 2007, 12:34, 8 replies)
I'd do anything for love... But I won't buy that (again)
I'd recently been seeing a lady who has been the subject of a previous post when I was left short changed after an extended journey south of the Thames.

Anyway, said lady was given a second (and indeed a third) chance on the basis that she was one of the most stunning looking women I have ever seen, let alone dated. Any accusations of shallowness and moral capitualtion in the face of aesthetics are probably justified to some extent, but it's also fair to say that she wasn't exactly a one trick pony and possessed a fair degree of brains and humour. All good then? Not quite.

If "taking the rip" was ever offered as a course, said lass would be a grade A+ student. More than once I found myself in a situation where I was regularly running to her aid at the expense of both my wallet and my own needs. Even though she was a stunningly beautiful and oft funny creature, the flip side of her character was proving to be more and more damaging to my self esteem, with her opinion on my apparently numerous character flaws being expressed often. However, morale boosting salvation came one evening when she looked me in the eye and wispered "I need you to do me a big favour..."

She outlined the nature of the favour to me, which even if I say so myself I handled with a reasonable amount of sensitivity and tact, after all she trusted me to help with the most awkward of issues that she wasn't quite brave enough to deal with herself. The gauntlet was thrown down and I took on the challenge.

So the next afternoon I marched up to the counter at Boots with my proxy purchase. I don't embarrass easily and was somewhat amused when the nonplussed till-jockette addressed me as "darlin" as the plastic bag and my change was handed to me. I didn't bother to attempt to stifle a wry grin.

Lady in question was hanging around looking at hair dye while I did my gentlemanly duty and she was very relieved to be handed the contents of the plastic bag which was summarily applied at an opportune moment.

No doubt her Rockford Files must have been causing her some embarrassment and distress, which is why The incident was never discussed again other than the wholly understandable "don't you dare tell anyone about this" speech. However, at no point was there even a "thank you for doing that for me" or offer of £3.49 to cover my expenses (which would have been refused anyway, but it's the principle).

Whoopsy ;-)
(, Wed 7 Nov 2007, 11:40, 13 replies)
Mind expanding substances
This isn't so much a tail of instant hurt or excrutiating pain but of mind bending inertia.

This experience almost tipped me over the edge of sanity into the realm of a pink porcupine in Afghanistan.

I had travelled to Greece to go to this big festival called "Samothraki" (which i'm sure some people have heard of) in 2003. The festival was based over 7 days where you camp in the forest right on the beach. It was 30degrees everyday and probably stands out as one of the coolest places i've been. They had a clearing in the trees with 140,000 watt sound system! fuck me was it loud!

Anyway, we had been there for a few days and I had indulged in something that we'll call LSD (for that is it's name). I had taken a tab that was moderately strong and had been bumbling for about 2 hours when my good mate at the time told me that he had found someone with some strong liquid. "ooh" me thinks and we bumble off to find it. My mate dares me to take one drop, then another drop about 5 mins apart. "fuck it" I thought, it can't be that bad.

Now, bear in mind that a tab usually contains about 90Mg (Microgrammes) of the loopy juice. A dropper will usually give you around anywhere from 100 - 200Mg. So I had anywhere from 200 - 400 + the other tab I had taken.

Cue 1 hour of me juggling and other stuff to keep myself amused thinking "yeah, this ain't so bad". Then *BANG* about 2 1/2 hours in I was standing on the beach when it hits me. I was talking to some people and I felt overwhelmed and fell on my back looking up at the sky. The sky decintegrated into what can only be described as a kaleidascope of colours and patterns. My head felt like I was on the verge of exploding and I was boarding straight jacket and padded cell time. I managed to just about cling to the fragments of reality that were available and recovered to a point where I was swimming in a sea of spoons and mulch (figortively speaking).

I spent the next 12 hours running around like a headless chicken (literally) "clucking" at people. Oh the hilarity, and insanity.

But anyway, I think I still hold the mental scarring so if anyone dares you to do the same, tell them to fuck right off.

Apologise for length but I swear it was long, pink and curly!
(, Wed 7 Nov 2007, 10:13, 6 replies)
Turn up the heat...
Most of my dares seem to revolve around chilli or other hot foods so here we go...

Dare #1:

Tiger Balm. This stuff is kind of like deep heat in that it warms and relaxes muscles. My mate, Fish, was curious about the stuff so i told him it was a numbing agent and dared him to rub a couple of fingerfulls into his eye lids. The Fish, never one to back out of a dare, stepped up the challenge and proceded to really scrub that balm in. It took about 5 seconds for things to kick off by which point it was well beyond the point of no return. He started yelling and ran out of the room but crashed into the door as his eyes weren't quite working as well as they used to and then spent about 10 minutes with his head under a cold tap cursing me and saying that when he could see again he would kick the shit out of me. It took about 2 hours before his eyes could focus properly and come even slightly close to normal again. thankfully, by this point he had seen the funny side and has looked for other victims to try this prank out on.

Dare #2:

The sauce of death. Not the hottest sauce in the world but, at a bracing 120,000 Scovilles, is about 50 times hotter than Tabasco. here is the link if you want some: www.hotsauce.com/Da-Bomb-Beyond-Insanity-Hot-Sauce-p/1321.htm

Anyway, This stuff is like thick dark ketchup and even the tiniest smear can leave your tongue, and any other place you touch if you forgot to REALLY wash your hands, burning for really rather a long time. The worst thing about this is that the delay time before it kicks in is in the order of about 5 seconds. before that it has a lovely smokey flavour and then blows your head off. Fish, again, and his brother Gus were over at mine to help me move house and the drinks were flowing. Gus was emptying my cupboard when he saw my hot sauce selection and asked what was the hottest. Da bomb was duly pointed out and he dared us to dare him to drink a teaspoon full. Bear in mind that I like my spicy foods and three drops on a triple decker bacon and egg sarnie nearly rendered it inedible for me. This was too good to pass up and so Gus was soon lined up with said spoon. Quick as a flash, spoon in the gob and then rinsing it down with beer.

"Ah, that's not too bad" says the gus.

"3...2...1..." says I.

" Naa, it's not that baaa..aaaarrrrggghhhhh!!!!"

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!!!!!

I have never seen someone in that much pain before. it was spectacular. his face was the colour of beetroot and tears were running down his face. his nose was snotting and he was almost puking. Thank god I had three tubs of yogurt in the fridge as I swear he was almost passing out. Over the next twenty minutes he made my kitchen look like a bomb site as he smeared yogurt over his mouth and lips to cool the burning and spooned the rest of it into his mouth to stop the pain. he couldn't move his mouth properly so half of it dribbled onto the floor and countertop. Fish and I were almost as close as he was to passing out and crying just as hard but for entirly different reasons. Fish had a swig of beer and proclaimed that even the tiny smidge left on the bottle made his eyes water.

Top tip? If you are doing a chilli dare, always have plenty of yogurt about.

Top tip 2? Never try my hot sauces without sober supervision.

Length? It brought tears to his eyes.
(, Wed 7 Nov 2007, 9:22, 4 replies)
Stig of The Dump
Back in my yoot me and my mates used to doss about on a fairly old factory estate that backed onto my house.

It was great, while most kids were happy to have a 'base' made out of a bit of plastic sheet between trees in the woods, we had an unused factory unit.

This thing was 'fully furnished'

There were sofas,an old pool table,parafin heater, and a candle arrangement that would make henry VIII cum in his pants.

I digress.

In our never ending quest to find more goodies we used to regularly go next door into the scrap yard (general scrap not just cars) to find more bounty.

One night we came across one of those 25 gallon metal containers. It was full of used paint thinners and was all kinds of pretty colours.

Mate turns to me and says,

"light it"

"no"

"okay I will then"

So he lit the top and it just sat there burning the fumes from the cap for ages.

Bored with this I went up to it and kicked it over.

BIG MISTAKE

It went up big time, the flaming liquid poured along the ground. As we turned to run the barrel went up in a massive explosion I felt bits of metal hitting my back.

We were very lucky not to even get a scratch.

One of the more sensible amongst us who was a very safe distance away said it went up in a mushroom cloud and peaked at about 40feet!!

We all went home rather quickly just in case someone from the local houses ahd called teh pigs.

Ahh them were the days.

And I wasn't even dared.
(, Wed 7 Nov 2007, 8:31, 4 replies)
Dares as motivation
I'm currently in the process of writing up my thesis, and I just found out how motivating a dare could be. I'm a terrible procrastinator, having spent the last 3 weeks writing sod all (browsing the internet is so much fun), but a dare actually got me off my arse to write a good thousand words in five hours.

I dared a friend to do something really quite odd (details may or may not be posted... I need to check whether he reads b3ta first :P), and he agreed for a price. However, because he's a lovely person with an evil sense of humour, he told me that money wouldn't cut it, and the price was a thousand words on my thesis before the night was out.

I've got to admit, the man's cunning, but altruistic. Obviously guilt about not getting the thesis done wasn't working, but appealing to my sadistic side is :) Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got some golden syrup and baked beans to buy. He's got to do the dare now, after all...
(, Wed 7 Nov 2007, 4:58, 4 replies)
My dumb housemate
Hey folks, my first post here, long time lurker though.

I have a dumb housemate, I will call him Lee, for that is his name etc. He is like a labrador puppy, always eager to please and open to suggestion.

One summer evening he spied a can of aerosol Deep Heat I had for a sprained knee.
'Can I spray some on my knees?' he asked.
'Sure' says I, 'Knock yourself out'
He goes and sprays a liberal amount on his knees and shortly I hear him from another room exclaiming how hot it was.

Roll on a couple of days and he sees the can again. Having just shaved his head I see a possible dare.
'Spray some on your head' I suggested, he complied
'It's well hot.'
'Spray some on your balls, I dare you.'
'OK!'
Having done that, he claimed that rather than hurting, it felt alright and was actually rather pleasurable.
'Try your bellend.' He actualy did it, I couldn't believe he was going through with it. After that I suggested he sprayed someon his rusty sherrif's badge which he again did. When the heat relly started to kick in he was getting noticeably more worked up. To cool him down I suggested he take a nice little run in the street, only, because of the areas affected he should do it naked.

As he sprinted off down the street wearing nothing but a stupid grin and a pair of socks he stopped to wave at a middle aged lady who was walking home, she didn't look so much shocked and offended as mildly bemused and maybe a little intrigued.

What was his prize for all of this? A half empty can of Deep Heat.

Apologies for length, but even with a cool breeze on the nuts it was hanging loose.

Back to the lurking for me.
(, Wed 7 Nov 2007, 0:54, 1 reply)
Toxic Waste
you know those toxic waste sweets ? come in like a little yellow plastic oil drum... super sour sweets, some people can't even manage one of them, in fact theres a scale on the side of the container comparing how many seconds u can suck one of them to how 'ard you are

u may think "bah.. sweets" if u've never tried one, but trust me they bring your feet (and the ground they are standing on) up to your scalp.. they are nasty

so at work obviously the dares start flying round once me and my collegues had tried them and found out how bad they were... long story short, no one could do more then 2... i said i would happily do the rest of the packet... which was 12 cuz i was showing off... it was like having an epileptic fit !! i was foaming at the mouth (from all the fizzing) my head was shaking... my face was red ... my throat hurt, i was bent over double.. and when i finally swallowed them all my teeth felt all gritty like the sugar/acid had actually removed a layer of my teeth...

i won the dare but never again !!
(, Tue 6 Nov 2007, 23:57, 2 replies)
I was once dared by a jehovah's witness...
to hide this girls Yo-Yo in the PE kit box

Had to miss 6 minutes of Golden Time for that little stunt....God, I loved being 8 years old
(, Tue 6 Nov 2007, 23:48, 1 reply)
African Carrot...
When i was a small lad of about 6 years old, (8 years ago) i was at a house party, lovely food arrangement, and my brother and his friend pointed at the African Carrot jar and said: "I dare you to eat one of those!"
"What are they?" I reply.
"African carrots" Say they.
So as you do, you take a large bite out of something you have never eaten before...


It turned out to be chilli. And these weren't mild chillis, they were the really hot ones, the kind Chuck Norris eats for breakfast.

Needless to say i was watery-eyed and chugging down water for hours.
(, Tue 6 Nov 2007, 22:48, 3 replies)
Laughs & Spokes
During our mid teens our friends & I engaged in daily mountain biking treks through and across The Mendips & North Somerset, Searching for the best spots for jumps & re-running the fastest, steepest downhill tracks we could get our mucky little tracks into.

After a heated school debate of Downhill vs Trials etc, We (the DH nuts) challenge Mr Bighead Trials to a saturday out to which we intended to scare the balls from his scrotum.

Leading the way we pelt down an old favourtie of ours at 30mph to suddenly notice the local tree-warden has felled an enourmous trunk across the path, root base & all.

As we rapidly pulled up and cursed the pesky jobsworth, we hear the cry of our challengee "EEASSSYYYYY!". Making no attempt to slow down the bold tosser tries to jump & clear this gert log...

Clipping some branches with his front spokes & not lifting the rear wheel more than a few millimetres skyward was his main problem.

As he tangled himself nastily in the bike midair, he landed upon the gears & was promptly taken to hospital upon our horrifed discovery of his crotch area bleeding through trousers.

Turns out the daft swede's cog area had cut through his trousers and into his perrenium, and severely grazing his manbag.

To top things off he boasted off the 'raging stonker' he got when the nurses inspected & dressed his wounds.

I think our intentions mentioned above very nearly came true

Length- almost minus 6inches.
[first post- apologies for essay]
(, Tue 6 Nov 2007, 17:09, 2 replies)
Drinking... and strip clubs
Earlier this year after a night of strip club hopping my mate dared me to drink the juice of everclear soaked fruit fruit cup. A good 4 shots of alcohol and fruit juice. I did. Without choking and after some incoherent ramblings ended up going to sleep/passing out shortly there after. Last laugh, I snored really, really loud.

What's Everclear? the kind I have is 95% alcohol or 190 Proof.


Strip clubs...

I was dared by a mate to go into the "Lusty Lady" with him. Turns out its a strip club of sorts. The lady's dance naked in a mirror encased stage with private viewing booths all the way around it. Imagine my shock when I saw they even provided kleenex if you had a cold.

www.flickr.com/groups/lustylady/pool/
(, Tue 6 Nov 2007, 16:38, 4 replies)
Office dares and bullying...
(Sorry for posting this so late in the Qotw folks, I'm guessing most people will have given up reading it by now - but I've only just seen it and realised I have a tale worth the telling!)

I work in a large office, in a group of ten other people - all CAD monkeys, apart from the boss. Of this group, only the boss and one other person are staff - all the rest of us are agency workers (which means that whilst being transient, we are also very well paid. Staff people being not so very well paid). The staff guy that isn't the boss is Phil (name not changed - I don't want to protect him, I'm mean and victimising as you will soon see) and he's your typical 'worked at one place since leaving school' type guy. Lovely bloke though - just a little poor - with his only other fault being that he can easily be baited into a challenge.
So at some time in the past - the 'Phil's office challenges' began.
The rules are simple:-
1) Phil cannot gain more cash from a challenge than us agency guys earn as an hourly rate.
2) The challenge must be at least fairly degrading and humiliating, if not downright nasty and/or dangerous.
3) The challenge must make me laugh (did I mention me being a bit of a bastard?)

To date so far the challenges have included - in chronological order:-

Swallowing an entire cocktail sausage whole, with a glass of water - as though it was a tablet. Purely to see if it could be done (and because I was interested to see if he would choke to death in the office).

Standing two desks away from me and catching those little plastic pots of coffee cream (you know the ones - the nasty little long-life stuff you get?) one at a time, as I threw them to him. Opening them, downing the creme in one, and throwing the pot into the nearest bin. If he dropped any, he lost. If he didn't down it in one/spilt any, he lost. If he missed the bin, he lost. Oh - and the pots (eight of them) were something we found in one of our old desk drawers after an office move, and we just couldn't bear to throw them away - even though we had no use for them anymore and they were 'undated' (we were moving from a 'make your own' tea and coffee office to a 'use the machine you bastards' office you see). Fair play to Phil, he managed it - winnings approx £3.50 in change (and I mean change - total shrapnel).

The arrowroot biscuit challenge. Have you ever heard of arrowroot? Its a powdered thickening agent used in cooking - its like inverse moisture if you will. Well you can buy (if you search really hard) biscuits made using this stuff - I think its an 'old' people kind of thing, something from the pre-hobnob years. Anyways - take it from me that these things will dry your mouth out. The challenge would earn him £1 per biscuit he managed to eat past the first 5, with no drink allowed along the way - although he was also allowed to pay £1 for a capfull of water, up to three times during the challenge. He managed to earn £14 from that challenge - although admittedly £2 of that was from a sub-challenge when someone bet he couldn't jam two in his mouth and eat them simultaneously (mainly because that person wanted to see how savaged his mouth would become by the ravages of two solid biscuits being crunched in a dry mouth - good addition sir! Thanks for that Jason!).

Next was the pepperami challenge. We used to have a small fridge in the office that we bought to keep drinks and snacks cold. Anyways - officer uber-fascists declaired we couldn't keep said fridge and so we needed to clear out from it all the many things we had been storing in it. Well Tescos quite often have offers on pepperami, so we seemed to have a fair few stocked up in there. Phil's challenge was to eat all of them, in one sitting, again with no liquid relief during the ordeal. With the aid of one of our co-workers (good work Paul - he might have given up if not for you!) Phil managed to consume 14 green pepparami (normal), 5 red pepparami (spicy hot) and 4 black pepparami (extra hot). He was lovingly handed each stick, ready part-unwrapped - to make it easier for him of course, not just to egg him on for our pleasure - and even had someone mopping the sweat from his brow. Bless him. That challenge netted him a cool £17 odd in change...
(you seeing the pattern of degradation here?)

Then came the pickle challenge. We had some jars of pickled goods (onions, gerkins, chillies, more onions) and over the course of about a two or three months we had been spicing up one particular jar of onions. You know how there's always someone who says 'I really like strong pickled onions - those ones are shite, you should taste the ones from my greengrocer/aunt Flo/grandad Bill'? Well we took a spicy jar of onions and added chillies, tobasco sauce, mustard seeds, marshmallows (don't ask), more spicy onions, shallots - in a nutshell we added anything we could find that would make them hotter/nastier. These onions were tried and eaten on a day-to-day basis, but they got hotter and hotter and the vinegar got murkier and murkier - until it went totally black and you could smell the jar being opened from the other side of the office! So the challenge was born, to eat everything solid in the 'evil' jar to win the cash - which was once again the donations of the majority (totaling about £25 this time if I remember correctly). Fair play to Phil, he chose to eat everything large enough to pick out and chew, and then drank the remaining vinegar and dregs - except that the dregs remained mostly within the jar, causing him to have to top it up with more vinegar from another jar of onions, swill it around and then neck that.

Ahhh bless him and his challenge taking-on ability.

The next challenge coming up (assuming I'm not arrested or otherwise taken away for being the office bully) is to eat 15 McDonalds hamburgers in 20 minutes. Just plain, no sauce, no onions, no nothing - just burger and bun, no drink - 15 in 20 minutes.
He refused the one where I wanted him to drink a cupfull of raw sugar - said somthing about it clogging in his throat and choking him. Spoilsport...
(, Tue 6 Nov 2007, 15:22, 6 replies)
i was dared
to take a dump on the end of a diving board, at an open air swimming pool, whilst pissed. So I did.
It was the one in Scarborough, over 20 years ago, so if you were the pool cleaner, sorry.
(, Tue 6 Nov 2007, 14:55, 1 reply)
I dare
the QOTW B3tans (mainly the girls if I'm honest) to add profile pictures so I can perv at you all.

Double donkey dare, no take backs.
(, Tue 6 Nov 2007, 14:50, 11 replies)
Lesson learned!
Now that I'm a mature, responsible *ahem* adult, I can turn down dares without a second's thought. When I was a wee-er Witch, though.........

My (evil) elder brother dared me to drink the vinegar left at the bottom of the beetroot jar. About an inch of it. Reddy purpley in colour. I thought it over - for about half a second - and chugged it down.

It was horrible. Yeuch.

Fast forward several hours...........and that vinegar left my little body the same colour it was when it went in! And it burned. It really, really burned. I almost fell off the toilet seat, and I almost shouted for my mum before I realised what it was and pictured the inevitable bollocking I'd get for being stupid (again).

Discretion won out over fear of permanent body damage and I stuck to drinking water from then on. God only knows what it did to my insides on the way through.

Don't try this at home (or anywhere else).

*Pop* Be gentle, it's my first time...
(, Tue 6 Nov 2007, 14:07, 4 replies)
Not Dared
Just bored.

I can fit 8 5p pieces into my belly button.

(obviously only innies can try this, outties are freaks of nature)
(, Tue 6 Nov 2007, 13:56, 7 replies)
Lava
He stared me down. His black beard against his brown skin gave him a Godlike appearance. His vivid orange jacket almost blinded my weepy eyes. As he glared at me, I could see he was daring me - daring me to make a move. Directly between him and me was Nigella Lawson wearing a jetpack. I knew what I had to do. It was a difficult operation. Some might have called it suicidal. It was a job that required someone crazy, but not just any kind of crazy. It required somebody crazy and religious. I was a devout Hindu. I was also crazy. I fitted the bill. People used to shout across the street and call me a loony. In fact, the local bakery named their bestselling bun in my honour. It was a fine bun that required a special machine to bake it. It wasn’t a large machine or anything major. It was more of a minor bun engine. I always kept a bun or two with me, which was fortunate, because at that moment I needed a bun to bite. I took it out and ate a mouthful. I tossed the rest of it over the Nigella to Benny, who held his stare and caught it with one hand. He raised an inquisitive eyebrow.
“You need to bite that,” I told him, and he took my advice.

But let me start at the beginning. I hadn’t been high that day, but I was sure a sign came in the form of a band of marauding gay nuns that were distracting me in the middle distance. Benny seemed unperturbed by their homowailing. He was a mighty adversary. I felt the situation get the better of me and dropped to my knees.
“My insides are hideous!” I shrieked. “They would repel me physically if only I wasn’t attached to them!”
Then I heard a beautiful sound. It was the voice of my dead brother. “I love you inside, Ed!” Ed was the name he used to call me when we were kids playing Horsie Horsie up at old Mr. Hardwick’s farm. “Don’t worry, Ed,” he’d whisper. “It’ll be over soon. Hardwick doesn’t take long.”
The sound of his voice was equally as reassuring now as it had been back then.

I leapt to my feet with renewed vigour. A sixteen year old nymphette danced across my field of vision, her school bag over her shoulder. I called an obscenity at her and she replied with such a filthy mouth that I was shocked. I whistled for a nearby puppy and commanded it to attack the girl, but it wouldn’t do it out of good will alone. No, the puppy had a tariff for such tasks. I gave it a bite of my fine loony bun. It was delighted, so I ordered the pygmy houndling, whose name tag read ‘OLIVER’ to defecate on Benny, the gay nuns and the potty-mouthed schoolgirl. On the horizon I saw Alan Hansen approaching and, detecting the impending scene of carnage, he swiftly donned a chain mail suit and brandished his shield. As he drew nearer I noticed a small yellow hoof protruding from his pocket. I recognised it as belonging to a ruminant mammal upon which I had earlier performed cunnilingus. I wondered who might have placed it in Alan Hansen’s pants, but that thought quickly disappeared as Bill Gates appeared behind me. I was a big fan of his. I admired his computer knowledge and aspired to be just like him. He set my trousers on fire and I thought I was under attack, and only when Ashton Kutcher loped over with a cheeky grin did I realise that it was an elaborate prank.

In all the excitement I hadn’t noticed that the puppy had nipped my finger end when I had fed it my loony bun. I was bleeding. I hadn’t bled for months, and had wondered if I was still even capable of bleeding. Clearly I was. This was a great relief. The colour was not quite as red as I remembered it. It had more of a magenta hue. Nonetheless, I was delighted to see it. There would surely be people who would love to have blood like that, and I devised a swift strategy to peddle my genetic information to eager customers, such as the women off Sheila’s Wheels.

A wild pig meandered over, wearing shades and a leather jacket.
“Word up, homies,” it grunted, and we noticed it had a bonsai tree in its trotter. We all ignored it. It was sooo 1978 and not at all with the times. In my kindness I decided to give the porcine beast some advice.
“You should speak to my people. We Hindus are great botanists. There is a tree by the name Taxus baccata,” I told him. “You should invest in one of those. It’s much cooler than a bonsai nowadays. You can get one in Washington State. While you’re there you might like to spend the night with a girl I know.”
The wild pig pondered this for a moment, and then said, “Yes, I think I will.”
I noticed a scar on his throat and asked how he had sustained such a wound. He told me he had had a ruckus with a gentlemen’s hairdresser.

Our chat was interrupted by Nigella Lawson descending in a jetpack, squawking something about ingredients for a new dairy-based liqueur. It was old news to Benny and me so we hatched a daring plan to disarm her of her method of aerial transportation. Benny said it wouldn’t work but I insisted it would. He dared me to go ahead with it.

This was where my craziness and my Hindu faith came in. I leapt into the air and screamed the name of Ganesh as loud as I could. Ganesh heard me and adorned me in black leather and chains. I landed next to Nigella, whipped the jetpack from her back, stuffed a ball gag between her luscious lips and threw her in a nearby kiln. Her screams soon died.

After an hour I opened the kiln door. To my disbelief, the heat had only melted away her cunning disguise. What sat there now was a flame-haired songstress. She stepped out, relieved to be alive.
“Heaven is a place on Earth!” she squealed with delight, and swiftly disappeared to write a chart-topping single, but not before I had run my tongue along her prominent earlobe.

All this time, the puppy had been playing with nunchukas and I saw him make a bolt for it from the corner of my eye. I pursued him using the jetpack and flew straight to Newcastle where I located Donna Air’s house. She wasn’t home, but the housekeeper was. Noticing a red mark around the puppy’s neck I realised it must be allergic to conventional animal restraints and advised the housekeeper to inform Ms. Air of this. I then noticed that the door stayed open on its own. I asked how this was made possible, and the housekeeper pointed to a cunningly concealed makeshift papaya doorstop. I liked the cut of her jib so I produced a hash pipe and gave her a wink. She invited me in. We smoked and made sweet, sweet love.
“Thou art more sensual than a drunken badger,” I proudly proclaimed as I peppered her wrinkled back with my souljuice.

The dare had clearly gone too far.
(, Tue 6 Nov 2007, 13:53, 16 replies)
last night
after getting stoned with the ass (i have meantioned him in previous QOTWs)he went to find a spoon so he could eat some yoghurt, i dared him to eat it with a fork, he declined so i double donkey dared him to use chopsticks and again he declined

even after i explained that the penalty for refusing a double donkey dare is being double penetrated in the anus by donkeys
(, Tue 6 Nov 2007, 13:42, Reply)
I can...
...fit 43 "Tangfastic" sour fizzy sweets (Haribo stylee!) into my mouth at once. (The bunch of cherry ones were nicest!).

This led to an afternoon in the office with a mouth that felt like the bloated flesh of someone who drowned a week ago along with the sugar rush and stomach cramps that preceeded a loose bum bowl splattering of biblical proportion. I couldn't face dinner when I got home leading the wife to assume I'd been to the pub and had chips.

It was worth it as Dan only managed 36.
(, Tue 6 Nov 2007, 13:41, 5 replies)
Another possibility...
All around the plant are those motivational posters, extolling teamwork and dedication and all the rest of that official wankage. Whenever I see them I growl at the geeks who actually put them up. We even have laminated ones in the hallways leading into the FAB, so you have to look at them as you stump by in your cleanroom suit.

Then one day it hit me...

Ever seen the Demotivators? I swear we have a poster with this picture on it: www.despair.com/blame.html

I need to find the poster upstairs, measure it, get one of these laminated and replace the official one with it.

I wonder how long it would take them to notice?

Others I have seen that are close:
www.despair.com/consulting.html
www.despair.com/gettowork.html
www.despair.com/inspiration.html (Favorite!)
www.despair.com/ir.html
www.despair.com/teamwork.html
(, Tue 6 Nov 2007, 13:22, 10 replies)
Gah! Just remembered this one...
My teenage chums and i(back in the hurly nineties), held a Swan Vesta Challenge - A long term dare for Kudos alone - It started by lighting a Swan vesta match and then putting it out in our mouth using our cheeks like a vacuum.. this quickly escalated to 2, then 3, then 4 matches at once .. This got to the grand finale of yours truly dousing 35 matches before i was declared the Winner - Quite the scary fistful.
I dare you to try and beat it :-)

...it can make you cough a bit..
(, Tue 6 Nov 2007, 12:39, Reply)
Hello!
Having had a long weekend away from work and the internet, I dare anyone on this board to say they've missed me.

Come on folks, show your softer side.

I know, I'm an attention whore!
(, Tue 6 Nov 2007, 9:00, 10 replies)
Pegging
A girl in school once dared me to let her peg* me. We were 14. My reputation at school was so low that if I had done anything it'd be public knowledge, in the local papers, etc.
I wimped out. Sure, I'd get to say I'd had anal sex with some girl in the year, but come on. That's just not right.

*When a female wears a strap-on and buggers a male up the arse.
**It would be at least partly true.
(, Tue 6 Nov 2007, 5:51, 3 replies)
Once in first grade in the winter of Montana...
I was dared to stick my tounge on the flagpole and hold it there. Right before recess was over. Being the gullible sort I did and after ten minutes of being stuck to the frozen flagpole via my tounge, a partially laughing teacher poured some warm water over the tounge and flagpole and I was FREE!

This was the same school who's cafeteria *always* smelled of sauerkraut. The smell permiated the entire section of school.


EDIT: This happened to me in 1982 about a year before "A christmas story" came out...
(, Tue 6 Nov 2007, 4:18, 5 replies)

This question is now closed.

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