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This is a question Vandalism

I got a load of chalk, felt-tip markers and paint from friends one Christmas in a thinly-veiled attempt to get me involved with their plan to vandalise the toilets at the local park. My downfall: Signing my name. Tell us your stories of anti-social behaviour.

Thanks to Bamboo Steamer for the suggestion

(, Thu 7 Oct 2010, 12:10)
Pages: Latest, 17, 16, 15, 14, 13, ... 1

This question is now closed.

not-quite-subliminal messages
several years ago, i was in the habit of having friends around to get wasted and watch films. we would often taunt newcomers to our circle and play pranks on them.
christophe got the worst.
knowing he wasn't very good at handling weed-induced paranoia, i hatched a devious and somewhat evil plan. i nabbed a luminous pen from my mate and set to work on the bathroom tiles. in huge letters, all over the bathroom, i wrote "KILL THEM, KILL THEM ALL, THEY MUST ALL DIE!"
of course, as the pen was luminous, the words didn't show up while the light was on. i left the light on and continued with the night's preparations.
scroll forward 4 hours and christophe is now very stoned, highly paranoid and bursting for a wee. as soon as he shut the bathroom door, i crept down the hall and turned the light off. the homicidal messsages were now glowing brightly over the walls of my smallest room.
the screams, oh, the screams. they totally made the 3 hours of scrubbing that crap off my tiles worth it. christophe shot out of the bathroom, white and shaking, with a decent-sized wet patch on the front of his jeans. seems he hadn't waited to finish his pee.
he never came back again.
(, Wed 13 Oct 2010, 21:27, 1 reply)
Lancaster University.....
Circa 2001.

Daubed around the Student Union near Furness College....

"GOING TO WAR FOR PEACE IS LIKE SHAGGING FOR VIRGINITY"

Student politics, eh?
(, Wed 13 Oct 2010, 21:12, Reply)
Swansea was littered with these for a while, thanks to two of my friends

(, Wed 13 Oct 2010, 20:58, 1 reply)
Saw this the other day

(, Wed 13 Oct 2010, 19:54, Reply)
In 1973 ...
I was working for a cardboard mill - lots of lovely dyes....

By a strange coincidence the fountains at Trafalgar Square were dyed red on New Year's Eve that same year!
(, Wed 13 Oct 2010, 19:40, Reply)
Invisible graffiti
Working on a building site you see the usual dull racist homophobic graffiti, but it was the plasterers that were subtle.
As they would graffiti on the plaster board wall a few their names for prosperity, but others would draw tits or 'you cunts/wankers etc' knowing that whoever worked or lived in the building would be there and not realise what is actually surrounding them, which was mildly amusing for a short time.

Decorators would also leave their mark, I was refurbishing my first house about 20 years ago, it hadn't been redecorated since the 50ís or 60ís judging by the top layer of orange flowery wall paper, so it all had to be removed.
I was stripping back the multiple layers of wall paper, having to do it very carefully as it was on the original lath and plaster walls, I stripped it back on the main wall and gradually revealed written in pencil in large letters, 'you bloddy queer' (sic) tastefully illustrated with a picture of a large hairy cock and balls. It made me laugh that some 50 years after it was done it did its job.

Nice to know some traditions in building are consistent
(, Wed 13 Oct 2010, 19:35, 3 replies)
Pure class
Whoever did this was either a student, or had too much time on their hands. Seen on the U1 bus in Southampton. I never saw any disabled people on that bus... but there were quite a few wheelchairs in the luggage area... :|

mmmm tasty
(, Wed 13 Oct 2010, 19:05, 2 replies)
Anyone else remember.....
The return to Gillingham Grammar School after the Summer holidays in (about)1974 to find daubed in three foot white letters across the front wall "HICKS WANKS CAMELS"....?

Mr John Hicks MSc, MA Cantab(for the Headmaster was he) never mentioned it funnily enough....

Love to know who did it, and whether Mr Hicks did actually perform manual relief upon frustrated bactrians.
(, Wed 13 Oct 2010, 18:58, 3 replies)
I just found this...
on the floor outside my office

temporary vandalism
(, Wed 13 Oct 2010, 18:58, 1 reply)
I have seen this image posted on 4chan a few times. Not mine obv.

(, Wed 13 Oct 2010, 17:39, 4 replies)
SIAC construction
had many sites around London.

At the time, I worked for a cunt called Jabba, aka Stuart, who had pubes for hair and generated his own gravity pull. God we hated him.

Needless to say, many SIAC sites had their signage adapted to read Stuart Is A Cunt.

Still makes me titter when I see it now.
(, Wed 13 Oct 2010, 17:15, Reply)
Yes, I am that much of a bastard
This is a tale of many sins. I would like to say that I am in no way proud of the things I did. I'd like to say that, but it would be bollocks, because I really am proud of some of them.

The first of my atrocities is that I stole a pen from work. Quite a nice one, thick black permanent marker. I figured I could use it to inscribe the names of illegally downloaded songs on the CDs to which I had illegally burnt them. These sins are nothing to do with this story, other than a little bit of background on me. I'm a bastard. See above for further edification of this.

On the day of said theft, we had a work night out. I worked in a city-based office which was staggering distance from various pubs and clubs of varying levels of ill-repute and decor-by-vomitus. I know it was staggering distance because once I intended to drunkenly shamble from one of these drinking holes to my boss' desk with the intention of leaving a shit in his top drawer. The building was locked, thank fuck.

Anyway, my next sin (on this particular day) was that when the decision was made by my chavvier workmates that we should go to Liquid nightclub, not only did I not protest violently or dirtily, but I was quite up for it. As some of you may know, I love a good dance, and I think this was one of the many occasions where I'd confused being elbowed on a sticky dancefloor by ugly twats who take delight in pointing and staring at anyone with the slightest bit of dance-related imagination with "a good dance".

Probably my worst contravention of basic morals that evening was, upon visiting the gents' toilets, to realise that I still had this marker pen in my pocket and start personalising the inside of my cubicle. Bad enough in itself, I was basically lowering myself to the level of people who go to Liquid nightclub and... oh... but it gets worse. I was not especially fond of one of my colleagues, who was also out that evening. His name was Scott Joy, and he was a dick. My manner of expressing this distaste remains an act so reprehensible that I feel compelled to tell a bunch of strangers on the internet about it for some bizarre reason.

In shaky, drink-addled scrawl I daubed the following on the back of the cubicle door.

"LOOKING TO SCORE? CALL JOYBOY ON 07xxxxxxxxx OR MEET ME HERE AT 1AM"

I should explain that because of his surname some people called Scott JoyBoy. He did not like this nickname. I thought that this message adequately straddled the line between the possibilities that drugs or man-cock were on offer. Giggling like the sort of drunken arsehole who's just made an associate's phone number available to the gay chav junkie community of Norwich, I stumbled back to the bar to watch Scott intently with a whiskey and a grin.

And precisely FUCK ALL came of it.

His phone didn't ring, no-one was whispering rumours about JoyBoy holding all manner of narcotics, the bouncers didn't have to break up a fight at 1am between the various bumders who'd seen the message and taken up residence in the cubicle awaiting a good rogering; nothing. Until we left the club, when Scott's mobile suddenly retrieved basic signal and call-receiving capability, and a garish bleeping noise tells him (and everyone within 5 feet) that he's received

A VOICEMAIL

I'm lucky Scott was as tanked as I was or my sudden interest in his wellbeing might have given him answers to the hundred random questions his flummoxed brain was soon to conjure. He listened to the voicemail, looked understandably confused, and after a little prompting from me ("whassup mate, you look even dumber than usual") was good enough to play back the voicemail on his phone's speaker, so we could all hear it. Fan-fucking-tastic.

"Er, 'ello JoyBoy, um, I'm in your toilet (imagine the horror, your brain would automatically jump to your bogs at home), er, if you want to hook me up, just pass the stuff under the cubicle wall yeah mate? Cheers"

I think I did remarkably well to maintain a straight face whilst everyone was looking just as perplexed as Scott. Desperate to relieve the tension, I offered what I maintain is a perfectly viable explanation.

"Maybe he'd run out of bog roll?"

It's not my fault no-one got it...
(, Wed 13 Oct 2010, 17:11, 40 replies)
Aural vandalism
www.boreme.com/boreme/funny-2003/s_heathrow-p1.php

I love this, cracks me up every time I listen to it!
(, Wed 13 Oct 2010, 17:01, Reply)
Altered Roadsigns
In the village of Long Clawson, Leicestershire, CANAL LANE is more often than not altered to read ANAL LANE.
A village in Lincolnshire near RAF Waddington has all the road names written in an old fashioned serif typeface (Google it)so that CLINT LANE is easily altered by joining up the L to the I.
My favourite is by far the large, temporary (18 months now) STOP sign in roadworks on the A46 near Cotgrave in Nottinghhamshire. The technique is shoddy but sprayed under the word STOP is the word HAMMERTIME. The first time I saw it I nearly crashed the car.
(, Wed 13 Oct 2010, 16:39, 1 reply)
Water, water, everywhere
When I was at school I discovered that if you put a piece of card over a full glass of water, you could turn it upside down and the card would keep the water in the glass. You could then place the glass - still upside down - on a table and withdraw the card. This effectively booby trapped the glass, so that anyone who picked it up would end up with a table full of water.

The vague link to vandalism is that I went through a phase of doing this with the paper cups at McDonald's, and had many a gleeful moment imagining the denoument of the hapless tidying-up person and the mess they were going to make.

Needless to say I was far too much of a coward to actually stick around and see what really happened. So I mention it here, first of all because it's quite a fun trick to actually do, and secondly in the hope that someone braver than me might try it out in McDonald's and let me know how it goes.
(, Wed 13 Oct 2010, 16:27, 2 replies)
This story made me laugh
www.guardian.co.uk/uk/blog/2009/mar/24/penis-drawing-roof-google

Apologies if bindun.
(, Wed 13 Oct 2010, 16:20, Reply)
Ooh, me me!
I thought of one time where I did a bit of graffiti and got sod all recognition for it.

A while ago when I was much dumber and believing that I had to fight against the man I signed up to join a little group who were pissed at the way the government had treated both us and certain members of the public. Our group was started after the government started cutting costs when it came to housing development and ignoring certain housing regulations and safety rules which led to a number of severe birth defects affecting the local populace (It was on the news and everything).

Anywhoo I came in a long time after this and was eager to prove myself in the only way I could think of defacing government property. I didnít want to go down the whole easy target of council buildings that were closed and decided to do something at the nearby port instead, to inform all people entering the place about our group. Strangely enough I managed to get past the security pretty easily and wrote a decnt sized scrawl on the wall before buggering off to hide.

I sat back at home feeling a little smug as surely something as bold as graffiti at an airport would make the local news right? Wrong! Shortly after doing that some silly sod (who had a face like a bunch of melted M.U.S.C.L.E man figures) managed to set off a bomb in passport control after being dressed as a woman and my little bit of handiwork was promptly ignored.

To add to the tale I eventually met the bloke that did the bombing and it turns out he was also a member of the same group I was with, he also took the piss out of the fact that he was also semi responsible for making my graffiti dated and non topical anymore as the bloke I wrote it about is now sodding dead.

Iím getting angry now, I need to take a holiday. I think that I might give Rekall a bell to see if they can take me away from this and see if I can forget the time I wrote Kuato lives on the wall.

Apologies for length, women with three breasts and excessive gore.
(, Wed 13 Oct 2010, 16:14, Reply)
Some clever soul
Took an upper decker in toilets yesterday, since employees and customers have use, we can't blame anyone. The next 20 or so flushes after that were horrendous.

Buncha assholes that shop here they are.
(, Wed 13 Oct 2010, 16:13, 4 replies)
Individual foam party!
For those of you who don't know how a foam fire extinguisher works (or at least the old ones as this jolly jape dates back to the late 80's) its a bit like this.

There are 2 separate chambers in the extinquisher both filled with water treated with different chemicals. The 2 liquids are mixed when the extinquisher is set off, the chemicals produce huge amounts of foam at fairly high pressure (enough to shoot out of the hose at a fair rate of knots anyway).

You may wonder where this is going, although the more wicked amongst you may already have an inkling!

Having got hold of a number of packets of chemical mix from a mate who was an RAF fireman we decided it needed to be put to good use.

The target : The Great Western Pub, public bar gents bogs, Cardiff

The method : bung up the pan with a big big wad of toilet tissue and mix chem pack one in the toilet pan. (this prevents the mix flushing away before the foam starts). Then mix chem pack two into the cistern, stir well and retreat.

Having primed the trap so to speak, we sat back and waited for some poor soul to wander into the toilets, waited for a minute and followed in.

Target one was just going for a piss and looked a bit taken aback to be followed into the bogs by a load of hairy arsed drunks, but after a bit more patience, target two entered the drop zone.

Trying to stifle sniggers we waited, and were soon rewarded with a big FLUSH .... follwed quickly by a slowly building fizzing noise and a strangled scream as the victim began to thrash around trying to open the door.

A few seconds later a dishevelled wild eyed foamy mess stumbled out of the door with his trousers round his knees gibbering slightly before making a hasty semi naked exit.

It looked like the foam got to almost waist height before he managed to open the door, not quite the "to the ceiling" job we hoped for, but enough to get us banned for 6 months when the landlord found out who it was!
(, Wed 13 Oct 2010, 15:55, 1 reply)
Private contractors
working on scaffolding not so very far from where I lived in London, found their sign 'Danger - Men working overhead!' regularly adapted to suggest that arcs of silken semen were likely to pose a greater threat to pedestrians than any building shenanigans.

I imagine nowadays the sign would be deemed sexist even in its unembellished form...
(, Wed 13 Oct 2010, 15:36, Reply)
Remember those signs from a few years back that said "Keep Britain Farming"?
I altered a few...
(, Wed 13 Oct 2010, 15:17, 8 replies)
One my fella told me from his youth
Like many Scottish buildings, his school had pebble-dashed walls. A kid with a gripe wrote: "MR --- IS A WANKER" in 4ft high letters with a spray can. So the school got a company in to blast this slight on one of their staff off with a pressure hose.

...only to find that all the stones came off, as well. So the words remained, engraved on the wall for years.
(, Wed 13 Oct 2010, 15:14, 1 reply)
When you go out to a french ski resort with 2000+ uni students...
...the temptation was just too much.



Length? About 100ft
(, Wed 13 Oct 2010, 14:45, 9 replies)
I thought about taking a photo, but realised that going into men's toilets with a good camera is probably best advised against in the sort of places I drink, but
At the back of the trap was "Steve Oakes is fucking queer", above which was an arrow pointing to Steve Oakes with "His sister is well fit, mind".
(, Wed 13 Oct 2010, 14:05, Reply)
Pavement
Back before we got married when we'd been going out for just a few months and Mrs Sandettie was just "Greenwich Light Vessel Automatic", we were waiting at a busstop opposite her house. The tarmac on that stretch of pavement had just been laid and was still slightly soft. So I did what any other infatuated teenager would do and I found a stick and began to scratch "Sandettie luvs Greenwich".

However, the bus came so I had to abandon it and only managed to write two and a half letters
(, Wed 13 Oct 2010, 13:11, Reply)
On a cubicle wall in a public toilet...
... I read one of the most hilarious bits of graffiti ever. After a little research however I've found out that it's quite a well-known stanza but it still made me chuckle. It read:

Some come here to sit and think,
Some come here to shit and stink,
But I come here to scratch my balls,
And read the writing on the walls.
(, Wed 13 Oct 2010, 13:06, 5 replies)
Toilets
On the last day at an old workplace some years ago, I took a couple of packets of wallpaper paste and at 4:55pm, went into one of the toilet cubicles, flushed the toilet and as the cistern was filling, I emptied the packet in. I then tipped another packet into the bowl and stirred it up with a ruler (which I dumped into the cistern). I replaced the lid, and never returned.

Consequently sometime on the Monday, someone was going to go take a dump which was never going to produce a splashback. And then, their attempts to flush it away would be futile also.

Because about 4 or 5 of us left that day, they couldn't definitively pin it on anyone.
(, Wed 13 Oct 2010, 13:01, 2 replies)
and I'm still rolling along........
A friend told me that many years ago he was crossing the Severn Bridge from England into Wales and some Welsh Nationalist or whoever had scrawled on it "Free Wales" to which some clever bugger had replied underneath with "On my wagon"
The road sign on my nearest road to Scunthorpe often has the letter "S" painted over, so does the t,o,n and e from the name of the Yorkshire town of Penistone.
(, Wed 13 Oct 2010, 12:45, Reply)
Scrawled above one of the troughs in the loos at school...
"I'm having an orgasm and a jobbie".
(, Wed 13 Oct 2010, 12:35, 6 replies)
Loo Dunnit?
Many years ago I was out on an all day session with a couple of mates. We're all very good natured drunks who never pick a fight or have a problem with anybody. Apart from this particular twat...

As the evening drew on we had been enjoying a few pints in a pub and were feeling quite refreshed when the landlord brought out many bowls of chips and put them on the bar and the tables in the pub. "Marvellous!" we thought, "That's just what the doctor ordered" and tucked into ONE bowl between three of us. This apparently mindless greed was a cardinal sin according to the landlord, who pointed out very forcefully that they were for "locals". How he could hope to enforce that rule in a packed pub on a Saturday night I have no idea.

Anyway, cut a long story short for the next hour or so he didn't miss an opportunity to glower at us or ignore us when we wanted to be served. As I said, we are very good natured drunks but I do have a rather nasty streak in me when I feel that I had been treated unfairly. So, on one of my many trips to the toilet I had a brainwave; I lifted off the cistern lid, ripped the ballcock out and put the lid back on. The toilet cistern started to fill uncontrollably as I nonchalantly wandered back to my mates without mentioning said act of vandalism. This was so they wouldn't have to lie if confronted, as it would be obvious who had done it once it was discovered, thereby making their denials more credible.

This came to pass about half an hour later, when one of my mates walked into the now completely flooded toilet to be greeted by the sight of the landlord up to his elbows in the overflowing cistern angrily demanding to know "Did your mate do this?" As my mate wasn't in on it he convincingly denied it and so we were able to carry on drinking.

My mate's denial seemed to have satisfied the landlord as he never asked me whether I was to blame. However, as we finished up I turned to him and smiled sweetly, the sort of "Fuck you" smile that let him know that it actually WAS me. Nice.

P.S. Interestingly I didn't return to that pub for many years and on my first visit back I inadvertently blocked the same toilet with a massive shit
(, Wed 13 Oct 2010, 12:16, 1 reply)

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