More Seagulls....
On a school trip to West Bay in Dorset had chicken and chips for tea, after scoffing most of the chicken leg accidentally dropped the very large bone on the ground...before i could pick it up and put it in the bin a bloody great herring gull swallowed it whole--Sideways--the whole class laughed as the bone made its way sideways down the birds neck!!!! Great--unfortunately the gull didn't choke or anything, just carried on bugging us for chips....
(archstanton The gold is next to me....leave me be, Mon 10 Dec 2007, 17:14, Reply)

Greedy seagulls!
I had almost forgotten this one!

When I was a teenager (about 14 or so) my parents and I used to go to Myrtle Beach on the off season during my Spring Break. At that time fireworks were still legal on the beaches so I used to buy up loads of bottle rockets, firecrackers and the like and go out on the beach to blow up clam shells and the like. I used to put the bottle rockets flat on the sand and send them racing along the beach, and sometimes shoot them into the waves to blow up underwater... good fun.

So one day I discovered that if you were out on the beach and the storms brought in that dirty whitish foam that goes scudding along the surf that a single firecracker tossed into the pile of foam would rupture every bubble in it- that is, a two foot tall mound of foam would vanish without a trace. How cool was that! Just like magic- bang, and it was gone. I entertained myself for quite a while with this, strolling along the beach with a lit punk and tossing firecrackers through the air to land inside the foam and make it vanish.

You can see where this is going, can't you?

As the gull came down and snatched the lit firecracker from the air I yelled "Nooooo!" and ran toward it, but the gull was already going out over the ocean when it went off. I didn't see what it did to the gull as it was facing away from me at the time, but it made several squawks of protest as it winged away.

I felt terrible about having blown up its beak, but concluded pretty quickly that as I hadn't been luring it by throwing anything else the guilt wasn't needed. But I did still feel a bit sorry for the poor stupid bird...
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Mon 10 Dec 2007, 17:12, Reply)

Tweeties Stuck in Car Radiator Grilles
There must be some 'ard as nails birds out there to actually stick, either that or they've been practicing their kamikaze tactics on behalf of the spare parts industry. Anyway...

M56 Westbound. Another hard day selling things to the population of Manc over, I am belting along in Lane 3, having got past Junction 7 (may it's name be cursed for all eternity.)

Empty ish motorway, shiny Merc. I am King of Road!

Vroom vroom. Radar detector in silent 'go like fuck' mode, gone past the usual pig-perches, so heavy on the loud pedal.

As I thunder in my lovely extender of trouser contents machine into the setting sun, I notice that I have company. Specifically Percy the Pigeon.

Percy has been enjoying a nice rest between the barriers on the central reservation. Maybe it's some kind of avant-garde pigeon hangout for the more sophisticated flying rat.

Percy decides it's time to head for home, and bidding his cheery farewells to the safety of the barriers, he casually takes off with a lazy FlapFlappityFlap. To emerge 15 feet in front of the C-Class now achieving near-Mach One, at radiator height.

The pilot of the overpriced Germanic death machine has little time to do other than utter a little word or two as he realises he can't swerve or the Volvo in Lane 2 will have a very bad day, so with no more than a slight deceleration (nearly collecting another motor up the chuffer even so) we have car/pigeon interface.

"FlapflappityflapSHIIIIIIIIITKERRUNCHwhoooshshwishhhhhhSHIIIITTHUMPwhhoooooooooshSPLAT"

Percy collects firstly the radiator grille, before being blown by the slipstream,sans some feathers and with a confused look, up the bonnet.

The windscreen acts like a ski-jump, and old Percy takes to the skies once more, trailing feathers in a nice ballistic arc. To land perfectly on the windscreen of the following car, to ski-jump once more before being terminally splatted by a third.

Sorry Perce, I did try.

Having said that, it cost about £50 to fix.

Flying Git.
(osok Rebel without a clue, Mon 10 Dec 2007, 17:09, 1 reply)

Teh unfunny
I've come to the conclusion this QOTW is not very funny.

That is all.
(golddust QOTW now revolves around being a cunt, Mon 10 Dec 2007, 16:58, 2 replies)

Greedy bastard seagulls.
Being the untamed free-spirited rebel I was in high school, I used to walk the half mile or so to the chip shop at dinner time with friends. As this was regular occurence, a brazen flock of seagulls learned that following the various groups of scholars would reward them with discarded chips etc.

Now the route twixt school and chippy was aside a rather busy road, and it was speculated one day (probably after a near miss) about how funny it would be for a car to hit a gull. The challenge was set.

It took a few months, but eventually a gull-ible bird (ha ha see what I did there?!) was tempted into the path of a vauxhall astra by the lure of some deep-fried potato loveliness.

Seagulls are really quite big up close. The astra driver didn't stop. We didn't stop laughing until well into the afternoon.

This sounds absolutely intentional so I better post something by means of a defence.
- A seagull shat on my bag once, it was revenge.

- All we did was throw food, it was the seagull itself who was too greedy to wait until the car had passed.

- Seagulls have also pinched my fishing bait before, ruining days of fishing. I hate the feckers.
(Greencloud Wanted to go fishing on, Mon 10 Dec 2007, 16:48, 3 replies)

More guinea pig
While our first male, Jake, lived alone, we got given an ancient gray male rabbit. He was huge, docile and pretty cool. He then died a wek later. But in that week, he lived with Jake. Who, being deprived of females, immediatley tried to hump the rabbit (about 3 times his size!). Maybe the poor thing caught the clap :0
( Greenbat, Mon 10 Dec 2007, 15:35, Reply)

COUNTRY WALK
There is a lovely little town / village to the north of Manchester called Hebden Bridge. The surrounding area is one of bleak Bronte-esque beauty and I often find myself tramping the paths there of. One autumnal day I am walking the couple of miles back from the pub to my bed and breakfast. Either side of the very steep country lane I was on, was knee deep in leaves and as I ploughed on with my size ten walking boots, I was kicking up great swirls of leaves.
It was a lovely moment, sun setting, browns and golds blazoned around me, brisk wind snapping at the mini-typhoon of leaves i was creating.
Then I kicked the hedgehog. Hard.
Did I mention my size ten boots? Did I mention the very steep hill? The poor Erinaceinae specimen must have rolled about mile and resembled a giant leaf snowball.
Felt guilty for days and was more careful where i was walking
(bugboybeast, Mon 10 Dec 2007, 15:23, 2 replies)

More Gerbil tails (hahahahaha)
After I destroyed my gerbils, a few years later my mother decided to let my little brother have some gerbils of his very own. Except mother is a soft touch and bought him 2 males and 2 females, and kept them all together in one big cage.

Fabulous idea.

Within a few months we had over 50 gerbils - couldn't seperate the sexes fast enough to stop more and more breeding. We took the car out of the garage and filled it with makeshift gerbil cages* consisting of plastic boxes with chicken wire over them, or occasionally cardboard boxes which they would gnaw through and escape to the merry wide world beyond.

One of the original mummy gerbils turned out to be a total psycho who ate all her babies, often leaving half eaten offspring all over the cage for us to find in a macabre hide and seek game. Then she started attacking her husband and eventually ate him too. Her sister was the baby machine and ended up so fat and bloated we couldn't tell if she was pregnant or not.

We couldn't bare to "dispose" of them, so had to give as many away as we could, even doing a buy one get one free deal. God knows what sort of people ended up with them.

Luckily, within a couple of years the psycho gerbil died (probably of cannibalism poisoning) and her baby making sister collapsed and gave up. Poor little things, slave to their own rampant pro-creation and stupidity. And my mothers stupidity.



*the garage, not the car.
(posage As I turned the corner I felt muscular and compact, Mon 10 Dec 2007, 15:08, Reply)

I may have mentioned my ex-wife's cat, Fuckhead* on here once or twice before...
For those of you that don't know, he was a small black ball of utter stupididity, and I hated him. I'm usually very much a cat person, but there was something about him that really rubbed me up the wrong way.

Anyway, one year we went away for New Year, to some friends in Scotland. We were away for 5 days and 4 nights, and on our return found that we'd inadvertently locked him in the lounge.

He'd narrowly avoided electrocuting himself by using a corner of the room as a toilet - it just happened to be the one that contained the computer, and about a thousand miles of cables and extension sockets.

He was starving hungry as there was nothing for him to eat in that room, but he had at least had water, as he'd managed to drink it out of the Christmas tree stand.

I still hated him, but I felt sorry for him that day.


*not his real name
(Professor Kenny Martin Hmm? What?, Mon 10 Dec 2007, 14:34, 3 replies)

Dark Alleyways....
At the age of about 12, I was walking to the shops with a friend of mine, Cheesie. We were taking a short cut down an alley way and the sun was going down...given the tree covering the alley was really quite dark. Cheesie was in front of me by a few metres and I spotted a rock in the centre of the path. I kicked it, quite hard and it went airborne, I shouted to cheesie as it was heading directly for him! He turned just in time to have the rock hit him straight in the stomach, he shouted in pain and the rock fell to the ground. When the rock reached the ground, it ran off... It was at this point I realisedd that the rock was actually a hedgehog and my mate Cheesie was now pulling spines out of his stomach!
(Stretch, Mon 10 Dec 2007, 14:29, 1 reply)

Guinea pigs
Why do they get such a bad press here?My little brothers have hamsters (which they rarely clean, leaving Mum to do it) and they're boring as a boring thing.
Guinea pigs are brilliant though. We began about 7 years ago, with 2 brothers. Accidental cruelty 1 was that they were in fact brother and sister, hence two slightly inbred females arrived. We got the boar another male pal, a white male called Gulliver. Being kids, we used to get out one male with the females, and try to get them to mate, thus giving more piggies. All we got was a bit of a mess, and eventually the two males began fighting. AC No.2 Gradually they died off, leving Gulliver, now much larger, hairier and slightly smelly but not in a bad way. You could tell he hated being alone, as he would lie, head on one side and eye showing white when he was alone. As he had been living with females the past few years, we got him a new female, called half pint (due to being small). They adored each other, until Gulliver died two months later. We then got another male, resulting in 4 new males. And yesterday, 5 more of undetermined sex. Guinea pigs look terribly uncomfortable when full of 5 baby ones.
Click I like this if you want one, we've got bloody hundreds!
( Greenbat, Mon 10 Dec 2007, 14:02, 3 replies)

I use 'accidentally' because it was in an age of innocence
When we were kids (back in the 80's) and the best pixelated entertainment we had was a ZX spectrum 48k.. he had to make our own fun..

Now, when I tell this story it generates the horror and disgusted looks of onlookers.. I still seem to tell the story regularly, possibly trying to convince myself and the listeners that it was all done with innocence and we weren't aware of any consequences. One day I may even believe myself.

We used to buy tiny mice from the pet shop for 50p each (I expect they were to feed snakes.. so in retrospect, they probably had more fun with us than the snakes, +1 for my conscience).

We would go back to my mates house with pockets full of mice, this mate had a very long front room with a joined on dining room.. so nearly 20 metres of length from front to back. The back patio windows had full length curtains.

I don't know how we discovered this.. but closing the curtains and throwing the mice from the front window, to the back window "usually" resulted in the mice sticking (with claws) to the curtains at the other end.

Eventually the mice would either miss the curtains or have some kind of mid-air heart-attack and cark it. The one mouse remaining was crowned king of the mice and got to live like royalty in my mates disused hamster cage, it had food, wheels and everything*

Anyway, maybe if I tell this story one more time, the guilt will subside and I can move on with my life.. until then I will verbally apologize for my sins to every mouse which crosses my path.

*regardless of these luxuries, the 'king' mouse generally only lived for a day or two afterwards

Apologies for loosely swinging around the term "accidentally", I was young and I didn't know what to do with it.
(ShavenLunatic says touch your nose!, Mon 10 Dec 2007, 13:50, 2 replies)

Pigeon Versus Corsa
On the way to Cambridge earlier this year a pigeon decided to fly head on with the corner of my cars windscreen whilst on the motorway.

Missus was devastated, wouldn't shut up about it.....kept looking at the imprint with tears in her eyes.

"Maybe it survived, we should go back and help it!!!"

"No chance, say it was flying at 15mph, thats a collision of 85mph. It DID NOT survive"

"I wonder what went through it's mind....."

"a Corsa"

She didn't talk to me for a while after that.
( FlexAlux laughed at something inappropriate on, Mon 10 Dec 2007, 13:37, 2 replies)

didn't mean it!
When my mum was at uni, my mums flatmate had a pet hamster/gerbil (aren't they the same thing) that she loved like a child. The flatmates boyfriend didn't really like the thing and always teased her he was going to let it go, or eat standard teasing jokes.

One day he came into her flat to hear his girlfriend screech

"Don't open the door he'll escape..." CRUNCH!

Just has he put his foot down on top of the gerbil. Supposedly she went ballistic and blamed him, saying he killed it on purpose and had just been looking for an excuse. To be fair he was probably putting it out of it misery if she was as crazy as she sounds.
(Hello?, Mon 10 Dec 2007, 12:48, 2 replies)

Starlings
Following on from previous posts I used to be a fish farmer and accidental killed some fish (see www.b3ta.com/questions/expensivemistakes/post96565, but this was not the first accidental killing.......

Starlings used to fly about the farm and eat the fish food from the bags, not a problem to us and no doubt this kept them well fed when they were about. Every now and then though I would find one by the bag unable to fly and looking rather sorry for itself. Being a kind animal lover, and marrried at the time to a vet nurse, I felt it was my duty to end there suffering quickly as they were obviously about to kick the bucket. I did this on too many occasions to count over my 10 year period on the farm and never thought anything of it. On return to the farm to see how people were getting on I found another poor starling appearing not to have long left with this world and pointed out to my mate that he should dispatch poor sickly bird to heaven. It was then that I went from animal lover to mass murderer..................he pointed out that they were fledglings and couldn't fly yet!!!!!!!!!!

I am soooooooooooooo sorry birdies, I thought I was doing good!!!!
(Studentken is looking for motivation on, Mon 10 Dec 2007, 11:51, 2 replies)

He came back twice

I believe I’ve already told the story of the ‘headless zombie goose’ on these boards, so I’ll have to make do with the free diving dog.

We were out in the boat one afternoon and we’d stopped to catch some fish, bait for the lobster pots. There was a fair wind and current so my dad dropped the “anchor”. I say “anchor” cos it was actually a big fuck off rock tied to a length of blue nylon rope.

I had my back turned so I didn’t see the incident myself, but I did hear;

Splash (“anchor”)

Yelp (Sonny the dog)

Splash (Sonny the dog)

FUCK!(dad)

We both made a grab for the rope and quickly pulled the dog back up. It must have gone 30-40 feet down and was clearly not happy. The poor fella had a loop of rope round one back leg and his tail. Snorting and shaking throughout the trip to shore, I held him inside my oilskin jacket and he slowly cheered up. By the time we reached home he was back to his old self.

Sonny died a few years later, and was given a "burial at sea". An act of laziness rather than a romantic gesture to past adventures. Four days later he surfaced again, caught in a neighbours salmon net. He got a second burial, past the head of the bay this time. He wasn't seen again.

.
( Ring Of Fire A petty, drooling belming butthurt retard., Mon 10 Dec 2007, 11:42, 1 reply)

Have a pearoast
Not me but some Japanese tourists...

It was a beautiful summer’s day amongst the dreaming spires of Oxford, no-one could have predicted the abject horror that would come crashing down from the sky.

A good mate of mine was whoring himself out as a labourer on a buiding site for the summer holidays. After a hard mornings work he stopped to eat a light lunch of fois gras and tongue sandwiches. Chatting idly with a co-worker on the third floor scaffolding he dislodged a brick which, as would be expected, plummeted towards the hungry earth.

Unfortunately directly below him was a fat, one footed sky rat, A pigeon, going about it’s business pecking at mouldy food and trying to rape other pigeons. The brick struck with exocet accuracy, crippling, but not killing the pigeon.

Racked with guilt my friend scuttled down and retrieved the mortally injured bird. Once back on the third floor he asked his colleagues opinion as what to do with it, “it’s fucked mate” came the eloquent response, “break it’s neck!”

This seemed like a relatively sensible idea; break neck, put suffering animal out of pain and dispose of the resulting corpse, job done. My friend takes the pigeon in his hands grips tightly on it’s body and it’s head. Twist and pull. As it turns out a pigeons neck is’nt especially strong and with a gentle pop it’s head was separated from it’s body.

Shocked at this gruesome turn of events my friend did what any self respecting bloke would do, squealed and threw the offending carcass off the scaffolding. The body flapped and twitched in a graceful arc before landing in the middle of a crowd of Japanese tourists who screamed and ran. That is apart from the ones who gathered around the still flapping bird took photos of Oxford’s famous headless pigeon to show the folks back home.

Length…head and shoulders below the rest.
( Naked Ape call me Caitlyn, Mon 10 Dec 2007, 11:34, 4 replies)

Cat cruelty
Long before the awesome Leonard the cat, my older brother inherited a black cat called Tom when he broke up with his fiance.

My bro had his own bachelor pad, living the single male high life with Tom, who'd spend his days mooching about until Bro got home in the evenings from work. Unlike the "so laid back he's horizontal" Len, Tom was very highly strung, with immaculately shiny black fur and an attitude to match. Think Red Dwarfs' cat's long distant ancestor and you're there.

Anyway, myself and my bro used to go out on the lash every Friday night before crashing at his place. We'd stagger out of a taxi, fall through the door and then fall in front of the tv to watch the end of The Word.

My bro was rather chuffed to take delivery of a natty sofa one summer, which would be welcome for post pub, Dani Behr watching activities.

The next Friday night my brother and I rolled in from a night on the Becks and I fell into the sofa with remote control at the ready.

*screeches*

Thing about my brother's new sofa was it was black... And poor Tom himself, was black... How the hell was I supposed to know that wasn't a cushion I'd thrown my drunken arse down on?

Those animal lovers amongst us will be relieved to hear that Tom wasn't physically harmed by his experience, but it took three months before the bugger came near me again.
(Bicycle Repairman "you're also a bit of a wanker", Mon 10 Dec 2007, 10:55, 6 replies)

Sort of ish but not entirely exactly
When I was four I headbutted someone dressed as Bungle (dressed as a bear is nearly the same as a bear really, isn't it?) in the knackers in my local shopping centre.


It was on purpose, but I can't remember for the life of me what he'd done.
( Captain Wow currently being a cunt in Infamous, Mon 10 Dec 2007, 10:54, 1 reply)

An actual story now
I grew up with two cats - males from the same litter, born around the same time I was. One was a little grey one called Splott (not, surprisingly, after the area of Cardiff, but after the noise two pounds of wet cement makes landing on a pavement, this being what he looked like as a kitten... I digress) and a big ginger called Orlando (from the children's books). When I was about eight, I was going through a phase of listening to compilation tapes of rather camp 60s pop, and one night I was in bed, sleepy, and listening to one of the above. Unfortunately, Orlando had found his way into my room, and wouldn't stop nuzzling me when I was trying to sleep. I kept pushing him away, but he was persistent, so I ended up throwing him forcefully to the other end of the bed. Emotional karma was, however, instant... at the exact moment my poor adoptive feline brother stared back at me from the end of the bed, his big green eyes full of hurt and mournful reproach, Cilla Black sang the following accompaniment into my callous young ears:

{stirring strings, anguished scouse warble}

"Anyone who had a heart would take me in his arms, and love me TOO!"

I'd never felt so guilty in my life. Thankyou, our Cilla, for teaching me the error of my evil, cat-throwing ways.

P.S. Orlando passed away at the age of 14, and Splott went a few months afterwards - they were the best cats ever, and are still sorely missed over six years later.
(The Deeper Well watches your kids sleeping, Mon 10 Dec 2007, 10:20, Reply)

um...
accidentally?

*looks shiftily from side to side*
(The Deeper Well watches your kids sleeping, Mon 10 Dec 2007, 9:54, 1 reply)

Twisted Vile Farter
this is more a story of how an animal was accidentally cruel to me, but it kind of fits the question...

Hector was our family dog when I was younger, a large ginger and white spaniel of undetermined ancestry. He was supposed to be a Cavalier King Charles spaniel, but blatantly wasn't. Still, he was a 'character', and quite the most repulsive dog to have ever lived. We would often find him eating pools of his own and other dogs vomit, and he would lick snot from us kids when we had a cold. But his most, ahem, 'endearing' feature was the method by which he cleared a room with his farting. Sorry, by room, i mean building, and on occasion, village. His farts were legendary in their vileness. Small animals in surrounding fields would pass out whenever Hector passed wind. It was bad.

One day, when i was around 9 or 10 years old, i was lying on the sofa reading some dismal Enid Blyton tome, with Hector lying next to me. All very lovely. Then he decided to get off the sofa, and stood up, before turning round to jump off. In turning round, he presented me with an unpleasant view of his chocolate starfish, far too close to my face for comfort. 'Ugh, Hector!' I shouted, as i tried to move away. But too slowly.
As i moved, i felt a puff of air coming towards my face. With a slow inevitability, the puff of air, green in hue, rolled through the air, revealing itself to be a Hector fart. I couldn't move fast enough, and as i did move, i breathed in. Yup, I inhaled the fart of my dog.

Well, to say it was nasty would be an enormous understatement. I gagged. I retched. And I ran to the bathroom to vomit copiously. It was as if Satan himself had been specially rotting some dead animals with some sewage, before capturing the essence to blast in my direction. I was SICK. I was able to taste that fart for days to follow, and couldn't eat for a while, as i felt so wretched.

Today, almost 16 years later, I still occasionally gag at the thought of this. I'm sure even now some of my lung cells are gently retching, whilst several tastebuds were annihilated, and will never again fully function.

And that is the story of how my dog was accidentally cruel to me.
RIP Hector.
( ascorbate, Mon 10 Dec 2007, 9:35, 2 replies)

Another bird in the grille
There was a bunch of us in a friend's car, and he was relating to us a tale of having hit a blackbird on the way to a meeting 50 miles away. At the end of the meeting, someone came in and told him he had a bird stuck in the grille of his car, and it was still very much alive.

"I went out to the car, and sure enough, there was this female blackie jammed in the grille, arse first, with its head sticking out", he told us.

So he eased it out and off it flew, none the worse for its high speed journey, except possibly for being 50 miles from its home. But then one of the other blokes in the car with us when the story was being related, a rather un-PC type, responded with, "A female blackie? Surely you mean 'negress.'"

Two QOTW topics in one.
( K2k6 has a proper job these days, Mon 10 Dec 2007, 9:32, Reply)

cats and masking tape
if you don't know already, search for that in Youtube and add the word "japanese". Anything that can open their eyes wider than the japanese can be abused and filmed apparently.

EDIT; uk.youtube.com/watch?v=5VRklgMjr3E

:D
( Jeccius Steam Borderlands 2 junkie, Mon 10 Dec 2007, 8:03, 1 reply)

What are whiskers for?
When I was about four or five a friend and I thought we'd give the cat a quick trim on the whisker front. We did this not out of cruelty and had no idea as to what whiskers were for, we were simply trying help the beast look more folically dapper.

We quickly found out what they were for though. The cat raced away from us hell for leather after with one snip we squared off one side of his over-sized moustache before, at full pace it twatted, the right hand side of it's face into a door frame.

We were beside ourselves, thinking we'd killed it, which gave case for our mum's to come and see what all the fuss was about, with us still holding the damning scissors.

The cat was ok, though spent a few days unable to balance on much. Amazingly it never really came near me or my friend again.
( @><|= w0nu!) or cunt to my friends, Mon 10 Dec 2007, 6:54, Reply)

fluffy chickens...
When I were a wee lad, my older brother went through the standard high school biology experiment of keeping chickens.

Being a nipper, I liked chickens, thought they were cute as, so I wanted to play with 'em.

In this case, 'play' meant wash in the sink.

So, upon finishing 'playing' I was left with a tea-towel full of sopping wet shivering chickens. And they weren't happy. So I tried to hair dry them. At this point I heard by mum coming, so, panicked, I wrapped the little sods up in the tea towel ran outside and climbed to the top of the monkey bars we had in the backyard (I'm not a toff, my sister needed them for her muscle therapy). Once at the top (not a good hiding place) I thought the best plan of action would be to poo myself and drop the sodden tea towel, revealing to my mother my dastardly act, and my endearing and smelly small childly act.

Chickens and myself amazingly survived. Ironically I myself wound up being washed, dried hurriedly under a hair dryer before being bundled into a towel. I was not, however, dropped off the monkey bars. My mum left that to my brother.
(lessmiserable, Mon 10 Dec 2007, 4:05, 1 reply)