What a twunt...
back in the day, when there were none of these uber-fancy USB keys, we had to use floppy discs (aka "stiffys" if your from SA...oh how we laughed when we found that one out...)

So I had some coursework on this disc, that needed printing. But the disc had crashed, and wouldnt open. So I gave it to my "friend" who was a bit of a technical whiz, and assured me that he would be able to recover it. Great me thinks.

I should probably mention at this point, I would have been about 16, I would have been about 6 ft, and I would have been playing for the school rugby team at the time...

So i see this twunt, and he says that he is sorry, the disc is truely fucked even beyond his expertise. I take the disc back, and i'm resigned to the fate of the teacher.

Now, I dont know why I did it, but I decided to move back the dust cover, and look at the disc physically. This was a new disc, and those nail marks should not have been there...the twunt.

Cue me, very angrily pacing in the playground when the bell goes to return to class. Twunt was in my next class. The class was french. So I walk in, and twunt is sitting there. I see red.

It scares me how calmly I did this. I put my bag down, took my coat off, and went over to him. "Why did you decide to destroy my disc?"..."I thought it would be funny..."

At which point my right hand decided to clamp his neck, and push his head back to meet the table behind, and then it decided to tighten its grip. It took three guys to pull me off.

The teacher obviously decided not to fuck with me, and didnt say anything. Teacher saw everything.
(drain_bamaged, Fri 27 Apr 2007, 9:39, Reply)

My history teacher
was a seriously cool dude. He'd been teaching at the same school for about forty years, loved his subject and loved his students.

One time, a Year 9 kid pushed his way to the front of the queue for the canteen in full view of said teacher. Predictably he was pulled out for a five star bollocking, during which the following exchange was overheard:

- Is it cos I'm black?
- NO, IT'S COS YOU'RE BLOODY UGLY!
(grandmasterfluffles Come to my Armageddon party on, Fri 27 Apr 2007, 9:38, Reply)

Rugby 3
Different game a week later....

The short version is this:

I was tackling someone the size of at least 3 houses - I'm only ickle like...

I'm hanging onto this guy and my Captain comes from nowhere and hits this guys taking him (and me) out.

When I regained consciousness it turned out we'd had a massive clash of heads - my Captain wasn't the brightest and his head was pretty thick (and empty) and he was ok.

I, on the other hand, was groggy and not in a good way for the rest of the game.

I think that too was lesson learned... Or Karma from the previous week.

Hospital? No.

Brain scan? No.

Potential for unforeseen follow on injury? Yes.

These were the days before all that PC crap though....

I think this is a tenous link to the QOTW now I think about it....
(james_tiger_woods is going to start his killing spree on the, Fri 27 Apr 2007, 9:16, Reply)

Ah, school daze...
School. I can't remember what osmosis is, or how to ask for a piece of cake in French, but I remember the violence and retribution that existed on a daily basis. For example:

I arrived at school in my brand new white Puma trainers. Naturally, somebody wanted to stamp on them to make them dirty. His name was Peter Bell, and as he lunged in for the kill I kicked him full on in the nuts. I swear his cheeks bulged with his own testes and his eyes goggled like a cartoon. He didn't get up off the floor for 30 mins.

Another tosser kept trying to write on my new Head bag (remember those?) so I hacked him across the back of the hand with my 12" steel ruler and watched with glee as he writhed in an ecstasy of pain and paralysis.

Occasionally I was the victim. As a teenager, I had a boner pretty much 24 hours and once, while waiting in the dinner queue, somebody thought it would be hilarious to hit the tip of my rigid bell with a hardback biology book. I fell to the ground in agony and lost my place in the queue.

Happy days.
(Fothermucker, Fri 27 Apr 2007, 9:15, Reply)

Rugby 2
Same game as below....

I'd been switched from the Wing to Prop (don't ask) - my opposite number, for some reason, wasn't releasing me from the scrum when it broke and it was driving me mad - I even complained to the ref (this was after the alleged punching incident).

This one time, he held on to me and I wrenched myself away - unfortunately my hand/fist went wild and I genuinely accidentally punched him in the bollocks.

That taught him - ha ha ha ha.

Unfortunately I got yellow carded for that one.... Karma and all that I guess....

(Apologies to the Americans who probably have no idea what I'm talking about when I say "Rugby")
(james_tiger_woods is going to start his killing spree on the, Fri 27 Apr 2007, 9:14, Reply)

Rugby
Mister B has reminded me of a Rugby story of my own....

It was an "inter house" school game and rivalries were cast aside in favour of "house" bonding.

Our "house" had, by far and away, the best team and we were unstoppable. Our opposition this particular game had a scrum-half who I hated - and he hated me - he was the most irritating sod you've ever met and always wound you up and then ran to the teachers...

Anyway, our Captain had told us that if you see someone hanging around a maul and you can reach them, bring 'em in - Admittedly that's on dodgy ground, but I liked the advice.

The scrum-half was just within my reach so I reached out to bring him him.

When I say reach - I mean swung a hand.

When I say hand - I mean clenched fist.

When I say bring - I mean swung out to punch him.

Punched him in the face good and proper too - Unfortunately the ref (games teacher) was stood about 3 foot away.

Fortunately I got away with it - the ref gave me a "naughty, naughty" look and insited we play on.

That taught the little sod :o)
(james_tiger_woods is going to start his killing spree on the, Fri 27 Apr 2007, 9:10, Reply)

Got one back at the banks!!
In mid 2005 I changed jobs and went to a crappy little place that never paid wages on time and was a dingy crap-hole.
The first time I was due to be paid it was about 7 days late, meaning that all my direct debits etc... bounced. The bank charged me about 400 quid that month.
This continued for about the next 13 months, until I read a few books about contract law and discovered that to penalise a party to a contract for a breach was unlawful. I wrote to the bank and told them this and demanded the dosh back (about 6k by this point). They refused, and ultimately I sued them in the county court.
Their solicitors wrote to me and demanded that I withdraw. I refused. They paid up in full, but part of the settlement was that I agree to confidentiality.
I told them that if they wanted to keep their dirty little secret that it would cost their client 50k.
They refused (and just paid up) on the grounds that their client didn't believe I could cause them 50k's worth of damage.

So I set up a website (consumer action group if anyone's interested), letting people know about how to get their dosh back from banks if they'd been charged.

I advertised it, phoned newspapers, wrote to the CAB, MP's etc...

I now have 140,000 members and have cost the banks at least 100 million quid in the last 2 years.

That'll learn the f*ckers!

(sadly I don't think it will - 100 million is bugger all to these money grabbing capitalist scum - still I like to think it at least hurts a little)
(dchurch bah, Fri 27 Apr 2007, 8:58, Reply)

typical
With usual impeccable Prof timing, my housey had the "we need to talk" chat with her boyfriend last night!
(Halfy By light alone, Fri 27 Apr 2007, 8:14, Reply)

Younglings
Nothing serious, but when i was a year 12 (not sure how it works in england but year 12 is the top year of highschool in australia) two year 9s were having a fist fight (well hardly). Me and my mate decided to intervene. We proceeded to pick up the kids by their backpacks and dropped them off at the front office and informed the principal of their fight.

If my year couldnt get away with fighting, why should they
( faultykyle, Fri 27 Apr 2007, 7:29, Reply)

I'll give you "No TV"
My parents sometimes decided that punishment was ... Deprivation of Favourite TV viewing. I used to love watching TV.. mainly for nature programs actually (I was a weird kid) and sometimes I'd be denied the right as punishment for Something I'd have done.

I got my payback. The ariel went through my room, so I'd wait til my parents were deeply engrossed in a "Miss Marple" (Agatha Christie) programmed or Bergerac.. or something similar, and then I'd push a small pin through the cable, earthing the signal core to the braided shielding. This nearly completely ruined the signal, clouding the screen with white fuzz, and killing most of the sound...

They never worked it out.

I shudder to think of the amount of times I misused the word "karma" during the debates about our "terrible TV signal"
( Humpty Dumpty was Pushed Is unaware of having any limits., Fri 27 Apr 2007, 7:00, Reply)

Don't be racist...
Friend of mine lived in a block of flats. No probs there, except one of the other people in the block was a raging racist. To the extent she would make up tales of his 'nefarious coon activities' and phone the police on a regular basis. Fortunately the police started to ignore her.

So she took matters into her own hands.

So I offered to do likewise for my friend. She was rather houseproud and was the sort who would make you take your shoes off before you trod on the Welcome mat. Red rag meet bull.

In my student days I had been known for the odd prank and one of them was making the fountain go pretty colours in Manchester town square. I therefore had a quantity of Flourozine* left over in a tub in the bottom of the wardrobe.

I dismantled a 'Party Popper' and re-packed it with said rust brown powder. Opening her letterbox I fired it across her carpet.

She took the bait and took a bowl of hot, soapy water and a cloth to the hallway.

She now has a day-glo yellow patch on the carpet.

*The stuff they use to trace leaks in the drains - brown powder, but goes dayglo yellow when mixed into solution.
(Dionysian Aut viam inveniam aut faciam, Fri 27 Apr 2007, 6:56, Reply)

I might have mentioned this somwhere before...
I used to have an Italian boss. This man was Everything that the stereotypes would have you believe: The silk scarf he wore would flutter hopefully if he even walked *close* to a scooter.

When lasses failed to come up to scratch in the office, he'd regularly be heard shouting "Faaking Weemen you are soo stew-pid" ... but they loved him none-the less.

His driving style was... erratic, and his right hand was used solely for offensive and dismissive gestures.

But... the point that I'm slowly rambling towards was his penchant for stealing fruit from people's desks. Most canteens in Sweden supply free fruit to round off a meal, resulting in people having an apple banana or similar perched on their desks in readyness for the 3pm peckishness.. Roberto would walk around, and seemingly without thought, take an apple, polish it suggestively in his groin area, and eat it.

The man was so smooth that he once ate a squishy nectarine without a drop of juice dripping anywhere, and without having to lick his lips...

In short.. we all envied him, but loved him.

Then came his replacement. Seedy and less savoury. This chap had heard about Roberto's fruit-basket tom-foolery, and decided that it would be good to emulate his cheeky apple-snaffling tactics. The difference was, he wouldn't do it infront of you: he'd take it while you weren't looking.

We rebelled. At first we took to "*olla-ing" a piece of "bait" fruit... but this meant that we weren't happy to eat it.

(*Ollon is Swedish for bell-end.. to "Olla" something is to smeer your flacid pope's hat on it - suit able targets being key-boards and the bridge of someone's sunglasses... or the back of their camera, at nose.level etc)

The bait-Fruit was never taken... well.. not in 3 days... and we wanted fast results.

Next lunchtime we all went with the boss.. and upon exiting the canteen, each and every guy took his own apple, banana or tangerine and put it down his under-pants. The boss looked suitably confused.... "What the hell are you guys doing"

"Well.. some ass-hat in the office keeps on stealing out fruit... so we habitually carry our fruit back to the office in our pants"

He actually looked rather ill. :o)
( Humpty Dumpty was Pushed Is unaware of having any limits., Fri 27 Apr 2007, 6:31, Reply)

Cock Blocks
This story involves Adam and Grant, two Americans living in South Korea. Adam is a quiet, meek black guy who is popular with the ladies. The white ones from what I can tell, as Korean girls typically won't give the time of day to blacks, let alone any foreigners. The other guy, Grant, is older, and I would describe him as friendly but not nice. They're both skinheads.

One week I was spending with the wife, Adam had two separate dates arranged with girls. The first one was chased away after Grant slapped her on the ass. The second one, who was an official Suicide Girl, was also deflected when Grant kept telling her repeatedly the only reason Adam was with her was because she was a porn star. She started to believe him and lost interest in Adam. That's two cock blocks.

I was planning an interesting road trip at the time. For any of you who are aware of the oddities of the Far East, there are a few bars throughout the country themed around Hitler and the Third Reich.
www.daehanmindecline.com/archive/20070310hitler/72.JPG
It was my goal to find one, and as you can see by this picture we did. I wanted to bring Adam along because having a black guy with us could be our race card, so nobody would think we were racist.

I also asked Grant if he'd like to go with us, who seemed interested. I planned to bring a bunch of us down to Daejeon, two hours south.

Anyway, a conversation started with a group of girls who'd arrived. One of the girls was talking about being Israeli, and talking about going to Israel and all that. Grant kept asking her questions, hitting on her, and letting slip little references to make her think he was Jewish.

It was a boring conversation so I walked away. Then I had an evil idea. I ran away and found Adam, and told him to follow me to the store, passing by Grant. Grant was still talking with the Jewish girl, with a smug smile on his face. I walked by and said "Hey Grant, are we still doing that Hitler thing next week?"

It's hard not to picture the look of terror on his face. Unfortunately the girl's back was turned so I couldn't tell if it worked on her too. But when I came back that way the conversation had ended.

Anyway, the moral of the story is don't cock block unless you would like to be cock blocked yourself.
(racetraitor has an alibi for, Fri 27 Apr 2007, 5:20, Reply)

More maths payback time
Sitting in maths, second row from the back, you'd expect to be safe from all the usual tomfoolery that happens when your back is turned. Especially if you happen to have 2 of the more geeky sort sat behind you and the chav-type in front of you.

But oh no. One of the geeky sort decides it'll be fun to put his feet on the back of my chair and start pushing my chair forwards and backwards, rocking me about, and carried on doing so for several weeks despite me asking nicely.

So I hatched a plan. I grabbed my mechanical pencil, clicked it a few times to get the led poking out and waited.
The, as I felt a pair of shoes edge closer to my chair...WHACK.
Stabbed the fucker right in the calf.
He cried, I got shouted at and moved across to the other side of the class room.

In the end I sat next to a great guy for the next 2 years with 2 very attractive girls in front. And now me and my chair pushing bully are best friends!
( palmr The speaking clock says:, Fri 27 Apr 2007, 4:11, Reply)

That taught him
For extra cash, I worked at a crap minimum-wage job for awhile. The owner was a complete bastard, and would regularly short-pay his poor student workforce. Because most of them were poor, young students, they didn't really understand that they had recourse.

He underpaid me one week. Fortunately, I was not a poor, naive student.

I sued him. And won. The original cost of the hours he didn't pay me? Somewhere in the neighborhood of $70. The cost to pay me the court fees, lawyer fees, and civil penalties? Over 25 times that.

That taught him.

And I got a nice, shiny new laptop.
(herbivorous, Fri 27 Apr 2007, 3:23, Reply)

Don't be a wanker
Many years ago when I was an embryo, we had a boozy party at friends house – guys, gals, alcyhole and two spare bedrooms for possible shagging/snogging. We had managed to acquire a young lady whom the occupant of said house fancied (one of the conditions of using his house for party). He proceeded to get seriously pissed and retired to one of the bedrooms for a bit of slap & tickle with young lady. Problem is he gets a bit obnoxious and over confident when he’s mashed. Young lady actually fancied another guy at party & guy fancied girl. As ‘occupant’ reappeared every 20 minutes to get another drink/report on his progress with young lady to all and sundry – other guy is getting seriously pissed off. So are we all. So we hatch plan. Next time he comes out we’ll get him to sit down and drink a strong coffee. He’s obviously too pissed to shag, so we’ll sober him up a bit – it’s for his own good…….right.
Big cup – quarter filled with black coffee – topped up with bourbon, scotch, southern comfort. We told him he had to skoll it and as it was really strong and sugary it would be best to hold his nose whilst doing it. Three gulps in, he’s querying strange taste. We tell him he’s too pissed and he’s imagining things. Finishes coffee. Stands up. Sits down again. Wanders off outside. Gone for 10 mins. Somebody goes outside. He’s passed out on back lawn. Leave him there. Other guy gets in room with young lady. General snogging happens. He dates her for two weeks – apparently she has a personal hygiene problem. Breaks off with her. We never see her again.
This happened over 25 years ago, and we still talk about it – ‘occupant’ friend still doesn’t believe he was that much of a wanker, and still can’t believe he actually drank so much and still survived. Lesson learned – he treated women with more respect and actually landed a lovely lady. Still drinks too much though, and becomes obnoxious – if he gets to that point we offer him a strong black coffee – he always refuses.
Funny that.
Yay, first post on this board.
I don’t have any length, just depth.
(Monkee girl not a monkee, not a girl, Fri 27 Apr 2007, 3:13, Reply)

Yes, it did "taught 'em"
When you're in the Raf and you're out of area (away fighting wars for your hippies rights apparently!), there are certain unwritten laws which are generally respected by all.

One such law is that you don't pinch anyone else's shower gel, even if it seems it's been abandoned in the showers.

So...

Last 'out of area', I leave mine in the showers a couple of times (it's convenient) and I notice it's definitely being used by not just myself. With no way of knowing who is using it, there is obviously only one solution?

After a week of topping up the showergel from my 'font of man-muck', I leave it in the showers until it shows signs of significant usage.

At which point I proceed to make an announcement to the whole base that whoever has been using my showergel has been literally 'bathing in my reflected glory'.

Lesson learned whoever they were(never found out).
(baasacJak, Fri 27 Apr 2007, 3:12, Reply)

Woo! losing my comment virginity.
couldn't miss out on this one. My housemates last year were complete twunts. Complaning all the godamn time about everything. So there was a few things I did to keep my sanity

1)Good old fashioned pubes in the milk. A classic
2)Pubes on the soap. One placed carefully every day
3)Hair removal cream in conditioner
4)Shower time! boiler is turned off
5)Hiding random objects of theirs. used to send them Insane
6)My personal favourite... my friend telling the one housemate shes slept with her boyfriend. It may have just been incidental, still funny nonetheless.

I see it as my revenge for all those note leaving, moody wankers out there!

length? Its my first time... I wouldnt know the difference
(isricheydead, Fri 27 Apr 2007, 2:20, Reply)

My boss told me to get off b3ta
So I wiped my cock around the rim of his cup.
(Apyadg, Fri 27 Apr 2007, 2:11, Reply)

Yum yum
In my first year at uni, I was living in hall, catered, even though I could cook.

Between 8 of us, we had a small fridge, which thieves delighted in robbing on a weekly basis. Beer and snack foods seemed to be the main thing they were after, so I decided to make them sorry.

I bought a packet of tasty-looking sausage rolls, slit them open and left them on the radiator for quite a while, so that they went all blue and started walking. I made my own special marinade of saliva, semen and other assorted bodily fluids. I was going to put some industrial cleaning products on them, but I didn't want to kill anyone. I placed them back in the fridge and waited.

Next time I checked, they were gone.
(The Sheisse Kaiser, Fri 27 Apr 2007, 0:57, Reply)

Arrogant little fucktard....
When I was a wee goffik I recieved the usual grief that a black clad make up wearing bloke gets but there was one kid who thought he was the shit. He always had some inane comment or childish insult to throw, and he'd always run screaming like a pussy when ever you got near enough to beat the snot out of him.

One day, as I am wandering to the shop to buy more smokes I see him and his driving up the road towards me. On cue the car pulls over and this scrote winds down his window and starts his abuse.

I don't look at him, refuse to register his existance, what I do however is take one last drag on my cigarette and casually flick it away... through his open window, into his tracksuit clad crotch. I've never seen anyone get out of a car so fast clutching their lovespuds to stop their cheap tracksuit smoldering away.

Laughed? So hard my eyeliner ran.
( SubCulture Hero ... ... He... .... Comes ... ...., Fri 27 Apr 2007, 0:56, Reply)

Call me an evil bastard if you want...
My ex left me for one of my best mates, and decided it would be funny if she rubbed my face in it. A week or so later I'm at another mates party and they are both there so they decided to rub it in some more, so I being the vengeful type waited until everyone was asleep to get my revenge.
You see, my ex has OCD and this gives her a pathological fear of mould and vomit, cue me emptying a bucket of vomit on her in the night and her unable to leave the room to wash it off due to me placing mouldy cheese in the doorway, my ex best mate had passed out so she had to wait until morning when he woke up to get out!
That showed her
(Mr Torture Oh no! Not the BEEEEEEEEEEES!, Fri 27 Apr 2007, 0:47, Reply)

Got the fuckers
Sweet little old me went to uni in Bath where I read Environmental Science, well actually I mainly read Streetfighters magazine and beer mats, but that's another story.

Anyway, a silly old twunt of Geography Phd, camp as a row of tents, gay as a box of pixies (trust me I can spot my kind!) did me for harassment when I complained to my friend during the break, that the lecture was dull.

As vengeance I became a climbing instructor working with school groups. At every opportunity I would dangle geography teachers off cliffs and taunt them for their incredibly boring subject. What made this double fun for me was when I found one with a terrible fear of heights. Have you ever seen a scared six foot bloke wet himself because a cute little girly happens to remark that the rope could snap if he figits?

To this day I hate geography teachers.

As for the Phd twunt, he got a reputation for being a twunt and was eventually sacked. I hope that he had to sell his arse for a living and now looks like goatse!
( Rev. Jayneflakes Buy my book, I need the cash for drugs and hookers, Fri 27 Apr 2007, 0:18, Reply)

That taught her not to breathe in.
Working in a cosmetics factory I come across my fair share of annoying people but none like a girl I shall call Deidre. She always has to take it that one step further.

One day she had done nothing but wind me up. Throwing piles of leaflets at me, letting down my chair and generally being annoying. As much as I like her, today I just wasn't going to take it.

I calmly walked up to where Deidre was sitting, let off an extremely vile, silent fart and then walked off.

My smile widened as I heard her confusion.

"What did you just do?? Did you stick something on my back?...." *sniff* "AAAARGH YOU DIRTY BITCH!"

That taught her.
(chakaflange, Fri 27 Apr 2007, 0:09, Reply)

upstaging some rev-heads
In my part of the world (Canberra, Australia) there is an annual event called "Summernats" where every yobbo, rev-head, street-racer, etc.. attends.

I managed to endure about 5 or 6 of these events as the pizza guy, delivering mostly to the hotels where all the crazy wankers were staying.

This one time while at the traffic lights some yobbos pulled up in their V8 monster, they gave it a few revs and one guy leaned out saying "Sounds good doesn't it?" in a proud voice.

I gave a cheeky look at thier car and replied "I suppose - but can it do THIS???" To which I applied my favourite party tick the my car could do.

Basically by anchoring the handbrake, put into 1st gear and played with the clutch & accelerator in a way to make my car 'bounce' (Subaru Fiori's have no rear hydraulic suspension - just very flexible springs!). I pretty much looked like I had a 'lowrider hatchback'

But what made it more classic was that instead of laughing at me, they all went "awesome how'd ya do that?". Next thing the idiots are trying it in a hardend, hydraulic & performance tuned V8 which pathetically lunges forward instead of bouncing just narrowly stopping before the car in front at the lights! (c'mon guys... try it again dammit - just travel a few more centimetres to lose your insurance!)
(mudslinger lives in a house surrounded by pussy....... cats!, Thu 26 Apr 2007, 23:50, Reply)

New tricks
A couple of years back, I was living with my girlfriend of the time in a quaint little house we were renting in a small village. There wasn't a huge deal to do, so I took myself with taking challenges from people on what they thought I couldn't do, to prove to them, and myself, whether I was just arrogant, or really fucking awesome. Most of the time, I proved to everyone that I could do whatever challenge I was set, no matter how difficult, though there were limits - obviously I wouldn't do anything really disgusting, like intentionally run over a badger at a high speed and then eat its organs on the side of a road whilst wearing a PETA shirt, though I did consider it.

One day, the girlfriend approaches me with a challenge.
HER: Here's something I bet you can't do: I bet you can't teach our old dog Wilbur a new trick.

It was on. The thing was, Wilbur was around 13 years old now. We had rescued him from an RSPCA centre, because we wanted a pet, and he had been abandoned by his previous owners. At the time we got him, he was 11, and ageing fast, and he was such a nice looking dog, we didn't want him dying before being rehomed. He was an old black labrador, but by that point his fur was turning grey. Because he was old, he was a dopey beast, and it was nearly impossible to get him to do anything, let alone teach him some kind of trick. Plus, corny as it sounds, we all know the 'you can't teach old dogs new tricks'.

I worked at it a couple of months, but at first nothing much happened. After a while, though, I started convincing him he would receive treats if he started doing particular stuff. So that's how it went. I would get him to perform a trick, which at the time wasn't very good, then treat him afterwards. It was a great way to train! And as time went by, I taught him to get better and better at it. My girlfriend was going to be so defeated!

One evening, I was busy teaching Wilbur, when I heard the doorknob jiggle. I looked at it and literally froze. My girlfriend wasn't supposed to be back for hours. Before I could do anything, though, the door opened to my girlfriend, who looked at me and Wilbur and stopped dead, WIlbur still performing his trick.

ME: *nervous laughter* Hey honey ... Look, I ... I taught Wilbur to give blowjobs! He's never done that before!
HER: *storms out*

"You can't teach an old dog new tricks." Well, I really taught her, didn't I.
(ratthingbazzterd, Thu 26 Apr 2007, 23:33, Reply)

I SAID...
I was working in a restaurant and who should walk in? This evil bugger who had once eaten half my Tiramisu dessert in school. Would you believe what she then ordered. FROM ME?


You guessed it. Fanny batter-tiramisu. She loved it.
(Chickenwire social lubricator extraordinaire, Thu 26 Apr 2007, 23:25, Reply)

Bottled
In town the other week, some kids driving around in a car threw a plastic bottle at us. Nothing serious, but the whole incident left me slightly miffed. Picking up the bottle, I walked around the corner, where said car comes back into view around the one way system. I threw the bottle back into the car through the still open drivers window as it went past, and told them "I think this is yours."
(Angry Pierre likes his Guinness, Thu 26 Apr 2007, 23:23, Reply)

If I'm REPEATING myself...
I often used to piss on my neighbour's car door handles, because he was an arrogant uncommunicative ninny.
(Chickenwire social lubricator extraordinaire, Thu 26 Apr 2007, 23:23, Reply)

If I'm repeating myself...
Just tell me, I won't mind.





I'll just shit and wipe it on your pillowcase.
(Chickenwire social lubricator extraordinaire, Thu 26 Apr 2007, 23:22, Reply)