I am a real bastard. And thank you, B3ta, for making me realise
Aged 8: I make a catapult out of an old sofa and smash one of the windows in a greenhouse four houses down from our garden.
Aged 10: Destroyed my dad's collection of toy cars. They were not collectors items, just an assortment that he had kept in a toybox and handed to me. I smashed them up with a hammer. (Why, I dont know. I love my dad and thank him for all the work he has put into my life)
Aged 12: Found an box of old LPs on waste land and spent the next 10 mins chucking at a wall whilst singing "Record Breakers".
Aged 23: Pissed on my flatmates' pillows whilst he was away for easter.
( The_Commander_of_Skips wears his sunglasses at night, Thu 7 Oct 2010, 19:42, 1 reply)

In the splendidly named village of Middle Wallop
Is the Museum of Army Flying- it says so on the side of the building. At least sometimes it is. The letters do not seem to be very durable and some years ago, for several weeks, the building proudly proclaimed itself to be "The Museum of Army lying."

In many ways, a more potentially fascinating museum.

EDIT

I remember a schoolfriend also saying that more letters came away for "The Museum of my lying" but I never saw that with my own eyes.
(Leonard Hatred briefly did some work on, Thu 7 Oct 2010, 19:41, 3 replies)

Seen on the wall of
the run down loos of The Chichester, in, erm, Chichester:

RAPE MY SHITTER

(First and last time in that very fine, upstanding establishment)
(MrOli is ugly, but in the morning you will be sober, Thu 7 Oct 2010, 19:36, Reply)

"Darren woz ere"
In *female* toilets at the Old Bailey.
( The Helpful Bear, Thu 7 Oct 2010, 19:34, Reply)

For various reasons, I had a couple of permanent markers on my person.
I was slightly drunk, and decided that the particular toilet cubicle I was in needed decorating.

Apparently I can remember the poem Invictus well enough to write it on a toilet roll holder.

Got a bit cramped towards the end though.
( gone, Thu 7 Oct 2010, 19:31, 1 reply)

Look!


Van Dali-ism!
( ousgg is not seeking approval, Thu 7 Oct 2010, 19:29, 3 replies)

I'm not sure whether I'm a vandal who's worked out how to get paid for it,
or an art school graduate from any time after about 1920.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Thu 7 Oct 2010, 18:51, Reply)

I saw this lovely message, written in huge, fat-tipped markery letters..
.. on the inside of a stall door, in the ladies' WC of a dingy bar:

"U R POOPING"
(harmless kitty, Thu 7 Oct 2010, 18:43, 1 reply)

I've never really
vandalised anything. I could never see the point, even as a kid.

However, a place where I used to work, used to have an annual "Car Rally" - which is basically a treasure hunt in cars.
One year, the dis-honourable pleasure of planning/setting the rally fell in my lap; and I took up the challenge with vigour!
Searching around for unsuspecting villages to host our treasure hunt had me driving around in the most pretty villages in Kent, as generally it was a day out for everyone, subsidised by work and revolved around country pubs...and this year would end up in my local with a BBQ put on by the landlord so that I wouldn't have to drive home afterwards, and thus, stay sober.
Anyway, I was searching around for suitable villages that looked good with a nice pub that wasn't Shepherd Neame (no-one could handle the Hurlimans, so I thought it best to avoid it altogether and ergo the punchups too), when I came across a fantastic looking village with a lovely pub (The Castle I think) with a nice garden and plenty of places for me to look for clues that I could set.
I parked up, got out and went to have a look around. I saw a sign that smugly informed me that this village was winner of the 'Best Kept Village In England' in 1990,91,93,94 etc..., and then I spotted the graffiti on a large white wall next to a park bench and a very pretty and well kept Sycamore tree.

"Mrs. Franklin is a chicken!"; complete with the full-stop after the Mrs as well.

Even the fucking graffiti was posh!
(dchurch bah, Thu 7 Oct 2010, 18:38, 4 replies)

Seen on the wall of the gents in Rafferty's, Newcastle.
"If long was short it would be square shaped indeed!"

Just below it: "Spud, you are a fucking moron."
( The Mock TurtIe ™ --- Thinks you are a cunt, on, Thu 7 Oct 2010, 18:28, 1 reply)

UCSC tradition
At UCSC, there is a tradition of writing puns of the word "grout" in the grout between the tiles in the bathrooms all across campus. Things like "Grout Expectations", "Oscar the Grout", "Grout Scott!", "Down and Grout", etc. etc. ad infinitum. Because the grout is slightly recessed and very porous, it's basically impossible to remove, and many bathrooms have hundreds of these things written in tiny, 3-millimeter high letters all over them.

I've contributed, but it's been years and I don't remember what I wrote. Use you own imaginations instead.
(+3 Baroque Vambrace of Icthyology, Thu 7 Oct 2010, 18:28, Reply)

back in GCSE science at high school
in the textbooks we used for science there was a square on the first page where you were supposed to put your name, but because they were for a whole class a different person/people had the books each lesson. Two people in my class Charlie F and Nathan J ( i'm not putting their last names) thought it would be a good idea to start writing their names in whichever book they got, one day though me and the girl i sat next to decided it would be funny to start writing things like "are queers!" under their names so that in each book it would read "Charlie F + Nathan J are queers!"... eventually the whole class decided to start doing this until it got completely out of hand with some hilarious things being written which i'd rather not repeat on the internet (but i will mention that one message involved sex with dogs)

when the teacher found out we were all expecting a massive bollocking but luckily for some reason i think he found it quite funny
(bamslower i like cheesecake..., Thu 7 Oct 2010, 18:28, Reply)

on the back of a lorry i was following
where it said 'building supplies' someone had peeled off the 's' and the second 'p' so it read 'building up lies'
( skullbuggery uh huh! kissed a cow!, Thu 7 Oct 2010, 18:25, Reply)

Couple of years back
I was heading home after my graduation, sat in my dad's car quietly reflecting on my time at uni, friends I'd made, experiences I'd had, things that had helped define me as a person. My little bubble was abruptly burst as my mother squeeled in delight. "Look at that van!" she cried.

In the dirt, someone had written 'Gay bus'. Two men sat in the van, completly oblivious.

Perfect.
(Mong goose, Thu 7 Oct 2010, 18:11, Reply)

on a toilet wall someone had scratched SPAN.
i guess it was his graffiti name. I changed it to SPANKY.
( monstrinho do biscoito teeeshurts = www.nogunarmy.com, Thu 7 Oct 2010, 18:05, 1 reply)

Two from school.
Two memorable prices of grafitti I saw at school, written in classroom text books so shared by many, many eyes.

1. In biology, in a lesson on mutation, the text book had a picture to illustrate this. The picture they chose was from a school in Africa. The picture is pretty well know, a load of black children with a single albino in the middle. Some young prankster added a caption "Where's Wally?" (waldo to the yanks)

2. In history, learning about Vietnam, there was a picture of a local fella on a bike, which some one had baffelingly written "NAR!" beneath. (nar is slang, usualy meaning no, but also used to emply some one is doing somthing stupid/pathetic). It was such stupid graffiti, it perfectly summed up the attitude and inteligence of half the school.
(Mong goose, Thu 7 Oct 2010, 18:04, Reply)

From most to least destructive
A boy in my class at school, who was generally thought to belong to the 'attending private school thanks to Daddy's wallet rather than son's intellect' club, approached me one day with his plans for the weekend. He and his henchmates had discovered a van hidden in some bushes near where he lived; it was very old and dirty, and looked abandoned. Their plan was to pimp this van and improve its ventilation system, by removing its windscreen and windows, and by adding aerodynamic dents to the bodywork wherever they thought appropriate. They asked me if I'd like to join them. Had they had a slightly more solid reputation at school rather than being famous for never doing any work in or out of the classroom I might have assumed they'd researched their story, but I decided to give them a wide berth. Came to school on the following Monday to find out that the van was not, in fact, abandoned and that the owner had surprised them bashing the shite out of it and causing several thousand pounds' worth of damage.

University shenanigans:

A group of about five of us decided to swap all the light bulbs on the girls' floor of the dorms for red ones, thus giving their living quarters an alluring 'Soho clip-joint' look. They saw the funny side. Some of them.

One vague acquaintance of mine came home from an evening of bucket cocktails (any of the innumberable 'drinks evenings' organised by student societies where cocktails were literally mixed in buckets) in an advanced state of alcohell and decided to pop in on his sleeping mate and wake him up by spraying him with the carbon dioxide fire extinguisher. Result: the entire block had to be aired the following day, the acquaintance came within a hair (of the dog)'s breadth of being sent down, and the mate was taken to hospital and told "If we'd found you 30 seconds later you would have been dead."

Finally, and just to set the tone, someone had written in the gents' of the King's Arms: "Talbot-Ponsonby has an arse like a wind-sock."
( .Yeti. El amor en los tiempos del cólera, Thu 7 Oct 2010, 18:03, 1 reply)

Tunnel love
some moons ago parents took younger sprog and myself on a narrow boat holiday...great fun was had by all i think and a photo showing us standing on the front of the boat by a tunnel was proudly displayed on the mantlepiece...until one day at a family gathering an elderly aunt struggling to focus on the picture asked my brother what does that say on the wall behind,"S**k my C**k its Blackpool rock" he proudly announced...never saw that photo again
(Dead fish, Thu 7 Oct 2010, 17:55, 2 replies)

One I've heard about.
I read about a piece of graffiti in a men's public loo. On the back of the cubicle door, there's a dotted line. It goes up the door, loops the loop a few times, continues onto the wall, getting higher and higher, until you have to climb onto the loo seat to see that the line ends in two lines of text:

There's no use standing on the seat
The crabs in here can jump ten feet
(The Empress it seems you CAN polish a turd!, Thu 7 Oct 2010, 17:52, 3 replies)

Thoughtful vandals.
I still recall some grafitti I saw as a youth, well... I recall roughly what it said:
When the things you used to love no longer excite you, you've used up your quota of experience.
(Me, I'm not... in any way intoxicated, Thu 7 Oct 2010, 17:48, 2 replies)

Face, I'd like to introduce you to Palm.
Back in the days of prep school, we still had marvellous old desks with holes for inkwells, slots for pencils, and colonies of chewing-gum creatures lurking on their undersides. The tops of these desks were battered, splintered, covered in scrawls, and were generally used as unofficial message-boards for declaring one's love/loathing for other individuals:

"BD *hearts* FH"
"TH is a wet and a weed and cannot sing for toffee"
"Mr Grimal smells of cheese"

You get the idea.

Now, at the age of 10, I'd never added my own personal voice to these boards; I really wanted to, but was afraid of getting caught and being in trouble. So when one day a rumour went around that the school was getting rid of the scabby old desks over the summer holidays to replace them with shiny new ones, I knew that my time had come. On the last day of term, I poured my heart out onto my desk. Who I fancied, who I hated, who I thought smelled of cheese, what I wanted to be when I grew up. It was quite an essay. But the desks were being thrown away, no-one would ever know, mwahahahaaaa! Delighting in the delicious feeling of naughtiness at my daring and the knowledge that the desks would never been seen again, I merrily skipped my way home and promptly forgot about it for two months.

On the first day back in the Michaelmas term, in a new form room, I was taken aback when three different people came up to me, sniggered "I hear you fancy so-and-so, what a geek!" and gaily tripped away again. How the hell did they know? I was very confused, I'd never told anyone about the object of my affections. Until I walked into my English lesson in the room that had been my form room the previous year, and saw the desks. The familiar, scabby old desks. The desks that obviously hadn't been replaced. The one with my essay of love, hate and life on. The one that I then got a massive bollocking about from the English teacher, and which I had to spend a lunchtime sanding down to clean it up. The one about which I had the piss ripped out of me for the rest of term. The one reason I've never graffiti'd anything ever again.

The one I'd signed with my full name, age and date of birth.
*facepalm*
(The Empress it seems you CAN polish a turd!, Thu 7 Oct 2010, 17:46, Reply)

Saw this in Dublin

(__, Thu 7 Oct 2010, 17:45, Reply)

Welcome to Salford, home of grassers...
Many years ago I was a student in the fair city of Salford, Greater Manchester. In the first year I was living in accomodation not far from the university, so didn't get to see all that much of the place.
In the second year, however, my house ates and I secured a fine residence near Salford Shopping City.
Along with the teenage mothers with cider and cigarettes pushing their spawn through the Shopping Shitty (as we amusingly termed it) the main thing I remember about the place was a obiquitous piece of grafitti: "Anita Thompson coppers grass!".
Rumour had it a local criminal family had finally been brought to rights thanks to this woman, but I never did know exactly why her helping the bobbies earned her so much attention.
(Me, I'm not... in any way intoxicated, Thu 7 Oct 2010, 17:43, Reply)

The toilets in the Arts building at my uni
were graffitied with "Get your Arts Degree here" with arrows pointing to the toilet roll.
(teff, Thu 7 Oct 2010, 17:40, 2 replies)

Fat moog
Got kicked out of poncy grammar school sixth form for being naughty at lunchtime, so took awesome revenge on my last day by:

Scrawling the words 'fat moog 99' over any available surface.
Turning every other book upside down in the library.
Desperately spreading a rumour that the head's son was well into his donkey porn.

That showed 'em - they never expelled me again.
(SimianKid internet faffer, Thu 7 Oct 2010, 17:39, 3 replies)

Geeky graffiti
On the walls of one of the toilets in a college in Durham:
"Physics is like an erection. The more you think about it the harder it gets"
(Cockroach-Sombrero Cook Pass Babtridge, Thu 7 Oct 2010, 17:37, Reply)

In Walthamstow there was a wall - sadly now demolished - which had written on it
"E17"

I rather liked it. I do think it was written in appreciation of the band, as opposed to this silly postcode gang warfare that goes on nowadays, and thus was deliciously irony-free.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Thu 7 Oct 2010, 17:36, 4 replies)

French dictionaries in school
...Turn to page 57...on page 57 turn to page 8 etc...this would go on for several pages usually ending up in on a page with a "prize" usually a rude word underlined, pêter or something. Fantastic way to kill an hour whilst looking studious.
(brutal stack Raided the beeves of Apollo on, Thu 7 Oct 2010, 17:34, 1 reply)

Swansea University Library Bogs
Were in the Bowels of the building, and were a dark dank rather unwholesome experience, only for the really desperate.

What didn't help is that they were covered in Graffiti (Of the normal kind, written in industry standard sharpie marker). In the gentlemens conveniences the tone was typically bums willies and anatomical drawings, in the Ladies, so I'm told there were long discussions about reproductive rights and ethics. Well someone had a bright idea (So they thought) to stop the free discussion of ideas. They reasoned that if the graffiti was in black marker pen, if they painted the walls with black paint, this would stop graffiti as it wouldn't show up.

Wrong.

The university did not realise that tippex in correction pens can be used to good effect, and does not stop the creative flow. Within a few weeks the walls were adorned in many thoughts of the young and idealistic, in easy to read white on black. If I recall the content of the ideas didn't change significantly.

Length, well most of the authors claimed to be at least 12, but judging by the writing style they were considerably less mature.
(Sir Tainley Barking Ezekiel 23:20, Thu 7 Oct 2010, 17:27, Reply)

on the door and walls of the girl's toliet in the union
on the door

"toliet tennis
look left"

on the left wall

"look right"

on the right wall

"look left"

on the left wall

"look right"

on the right wall

"look left"

and so on
(ladyintheradiator, Thu 7 Oct 2010, 17:27, 1 reply)