Feeding
fish is an amazing activity when you're 3...

being 3 means that ones attention span is somewhat short...

therefore, lock away the fish food, as over feeding causes your brothers goldfish to die, and your own ugly blobby thing to float on its side... but live!
(feedingtimeatthezoo day 1 of his bikini diet started, Fri 7 Dec 2007, 14:05, Reply)

Repeated accidental animal cruelty
I have had many hamsters in my lifetime...

Hamster #1 got dropped in a bowl of boiling hot bleach (by accident, I hasten to add)

Hamster #2 was subject to a six year old's curiosity. I wanted to see if hamsters could swim*

Hamster #3 fell under the wheel of a Barbie car.

Hamster #4 bit a wire and electrocuted herself.

Hamster #5 was the only intelligent hamster and within days of buying him he'd made a break for the great wide world to make something of himself.
... That is until he was unfortunately savaged by a neighbouring dog within hours of his escape.

Hamster #6 had babies with Hamster #7

Hamster #7 didn't take to the world of fatherhood and comitted suicide.

Hamster #6 had a second litter of babies with Hamster #8
Unforunately, the offspring of Hamster #7 ate the offspring of Hamster #8 in a frenzy of blood and gore.

Hamster #6 and Hamster #8 went on to live happy lives...
Until my sister dropped the cage on the floor.

You'll be happy to know that I have not been allowed to keep a hamster since.

*No, in case you were wondering, they cannot.
(misato, Fri 7 Dec 2007, 13:59, 3 replies)

Sweary Mynah bird
Not sure if this counts as cruelty but hey ho. Many moons ago, my folks and I lived near a zoo (won't name names in case they sue or something) and said zoo had a cutesy little children's zoo with fluffy animals and stuff for little kiddy-winks to play with. They also had a Mynah bird for little kiddy-winks to talk to. Now, my folks had invested in a season ticket so we went there quite a lot and this provided ample opportunity to teach the Mynah bird some new phrases. After several weeks of my dad saying "bollocks" to it, the little birdy managed to repeat it, much to our joy and amazement. Unfortunately, the zoo didn't take too kindly to this and a couple of weeks afterwards, the birdy's cage was empty..... Mynah bird pie anyone?
(angelica666, Fri 7 Dec 2007, 13:57, Reply)

So there I was, vaseline in hand, polishing my weapon...
I used to be quite a keen fencer (and would be again, were it not for the duff knee *grumble, grumble...*) and, as a result, owned a number of swords.

The blades of swords can be liable to get a bit of rust on them, but nothing that a quick rub with wire wool and a smear of vaseline can't cure. So, one day, the sun was out, and I was in the garden polishing my sabre.

The neighbours had recently acquired a labrador puppy; he was mad as a box full of Tuesdays and had discovered (somehow) how to get over the fence. He saw me in the garden, wanted to play, and bounded over. I didn't take much notice.

His mouth was open. I was holding my sabre out in front of me to check the straightness of the blade.

The inevitable happened.

The dog kebabbed himself.

He was so stupid that he didn't even notice.


Length? I could take your eye out from here...
( Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Fri 7 Dec 2007, 13:55, 3 replies)

Bless her
A few doors down from me lives a lovely old lady called Hilda. Her husband died a year or so ago, and us and the neighbours look out for her, and she looks out for us while we're at work.

Her only companion now is a wee black and white cat, whose favourite hobby is shitting in my vegetable patch.

Hilda, for reasons best known to somebody else, was in her kitchen with a big washing up bowl of water which she wished to empty, so she opened the back door and hoofed out the lot.

Unfortunately, the defiler of the veg patch was standing right outside the door, waiting to come in, and with Hilda's reactions not being the sharpest, she drenched the little fecker with a couple of gallons of dirty water.

I would _love_ to have seen its face.
(Udidin is chuffed to have made the newsletter, Fri 7 Dec 2007, 13:54, Reply)

Came home once
to find one of our cats with an empty catfood tin stuck over its head, mewing pathetically with a reverb effect.

We'd been away 4 days.
(meepmeep is, Fri 7 Dec 2007, 13:31, Reply)

choking the dog, feeling the pain
A couple of weeks ago I arrived home to discover the dog (choclate labrador)had got his nose through the stairgate and had shredded some presents we'd recently brought back from Egypt. I hit him a couple of times in sheer rage til the fiance said that was enough, there's no point in just hitting him, he doesn't know what he's done.
I disagreed (quietly) and waited until she'd walked into the living room and closed the door. I then grabbed the hairy git by the throat, lifted him up and tried to choke him. I love the dog but the red mist had descended. It was a scene reminiscent of homer choking bart simpson. I never heard the fiance coming back out of the living room until she started screaming and repeatedly hitting me for being a cruel b*llocks.
It's so so unfair, the dog eats the family presents and then I get beaten up for it! WTF?
( sneep used to date Freddie Starr's hamster, Fri 7 Dec 2007, 13:10, 7 replies)

No really accidental but...
I have a penchant for kicking my cats up the bum. Their always in my way for Gods sake.
( girlinthehole, Fri 7 Dec 2007, 13:08, 3 replies)

Lobster's revenge
Another diving-related tale. Again, not accidental but there's a warning here.

A coupe of lads in the club, Neil and Steve, are grubbing around in the North Sea, poking around in rocks looking for lobsters. They manage to find one, and a big fucker too. Now the usual practice in cases like these is to get your clique out (essentially a long metal implement with a bent end), poke it in the hole, and tease the lobster out.

Not this bastard. He's a big boy, bigger than your average lobster, and has obviously got to the size he has by learning a thing or too. Especially with regards to 6-foot men dressed in rubber armed with a metal pokey-object. He's wedged in there, and aint coming out. However, Neil and Steve valiantly continue their efforts, but to no avail.

Instead of conceding defeat to this monster of the deep, though, Steve thinks "I wonder if this hole goes all the way through to the other side of this reef"? So he swims around, and sure enough there is a crack round the back. Neil has sussed what Steve has in mind, so stays round the front, waiting. Meanwhile, Steve has got his clique out and is ramming it into the hole, pounding away furiously like some sub-aqua Ron Jeremy.

His efforts had the desired effect, and the lobster, fed up of having his arse poked with a metal stick, shoots out the other end and Neil makes a grab for it.

Except that, he didn't get it in the bag before it flashed a look of unadulterated lobster-fury at him, stuck out its fist-sized claw, and grabbed a hold of Neil's regulator hose...

This being the underwater equivalent of being strangled, Neil is faced with a dilemma - does he have a go at prising the claw off his regulator hose and wrestle the beast into the bag, before heading back to shove the bastard in a pot of boiling water? Or does he do the noble thing and release his grip?

A rapid assessment of the consequences led Neil to reach the only conclusion possible. He released his grip. The lobster reciprocated, dropped down to the sea bed, and strode mightily back into his hole.

Lobster - 1, divers - nil.
( Davros' Granddad a voice of calm reason in a world of spastics., Fri 7 Dec 2007, 12:57, 4 replies)

Once shafted a goat on a soggy Friday afternoon...
Aimed for the fanny, but got the arse -- oops!
(Roll Fizzlebeef enjoys a good Cleveland Steamer, Fri 7 Dec 2007, 12:56, Reply)

In the name of atmospheric imagery
My mother directed a film once, which featured at one point an on-the-corner carp seller (you get these in the Czech Republic at Christmas apparently). The scene was set in winter but shot on a hot summer day, and she was concerned that the tub of fish didn't look suitably wintery. Offhandedly she mentioned this to the Director of Photography, who said 'no problem'. A short time later someone shows up with a handful of dry ice and tosses it into the tub to make some steam.

I'm not sure if it was the cold or the carbon dioxide suffocation, but either way the surface of the tub rapidly filled up with dead carp.
( flatfrog Staring vacantly into space, Fri 7 Dec 2007, 12:52, Reply)

Stella Artois & Hamsters
That reminds me of my mat Nathan's ex-hamster.

We'd rolled in from the pub one evening and were watching telly, whilst being seranaded by the sound of the hamster doing Paula Radcliffe impressions in her wheel. The "squeeeeeky-squeeeeeeek!" noise was driving us both batty, so we decided we'd try gentle persuasion on Ms Hamster to shut her up.

Hammy seemed delighted with Nathan's offering of Stella Artois (urine of Satan as far as I'm concerned, haven't touched the stuff in over a decade), lapping up the droplets of sweet lager.

Five minutes later there was a dramatic demonstration of why I abstained from Stella when the drunken Hammy squared up to me in her cage, spoiling for a fight.
(Bicycle Repairman "you're also a bit of a wanker", Fri 7 Dec 2007, 12:47, Reply)

Zak
My Weimaraner was a gorgeous boy, ridiculously handsome, winsome and woosome, if not a little bit dim.

He was a typical Weim, very muscular and powerfully legged. Sometimes his front legs would get carried away with themsleves with the result that rest of him didn't always stop in time. Many a jaunt in the fields ended up with the floppy-eared fool either cartwheeling (literally) down hills, great sweaty paws flapping all over, nosediving into hedges or head-butting stiles.

Anyway, so to my act of untintentional cruelty :

I'm not very good with heights, I can't walk over railway bridges without coming out in a cold sweat, but this particular day I needed something from the loft (can't remember what it was) and I needed it badly enough to put up the extending aluminium ladders and go up there - MYSELF !

Anyone who's owned a Weim will know that they are incredibly nosey dogs and need to know exactly what you are doing and how they can help/get in the way. I don't know how he did it but he quietly followed me up the ladders and suddenly I was faced with the triumphant lolling-tongued grin of my big stupid dog.

Well I could just about get myself down the ladders but there was no way could I schlep seven and a half stone of heaving Weimaraner down at the same time. I knew there was no chance of him re-negotiating the ladder rungs in a downward fashion, so what to do ? "I'll get me down first and then worry" thinks I, so I very hesitantly wobbled my way down back onto the landing (did I mention this was at the top of the very steep stairs ?)and looked up to see Zak's quizzical jowly features staring down at me from the loft hatch. He was obviously aware of the dilemma too and to give the dog his dues he did try a couple of solutions before settling on the front-paws- either-side-of-the-rungs-back-paws-on-the-rungs technique. He started inching down slowly, slowly, it was working !! Then he just stopped. "He needs encouragement from his mummy" I thought and started yelling motivational rubbish at him "come on Zak good doggy best doggy dog, oooh does he want some beefy beef good boy ? come on then boysie come to your mummy !!!" Well it certainly worked, the legs went into super-uber-mega-overdrive. If you can imagine smooth leathery paws on aluminium with 110 pounds of dog behind them you can imagine the speed with which he whizzed down those ladders, and of course the legs did.not.stop. I watched in awe as he hurtled past me and down the stairs at warp speed straight into the door at the bottom. "BWONK"

He wobbled a bit and then slowly turned to meet my horrified gaze, a single trickle of blood from his right nostril. He sat down, stood up, sat down again and went "Ummmmmm"

He was okay though and lived to top his high flying gymnastics with ever more daring feats of stupidity.

I loved that dog.
( rabbitz, Fri 7 Dec 2007, 12:43, 2 replies)

cruel even when dead
When i was little I had the brilliant idea of using a big old carboard box to make a giant run for my hamster.
He was happy. I was happy. So was the cat.
I left my bedroom door open that night and I awake to find a half eaten hanster in the box...
As if that wasnt bad enough my mum, trying to cheer me up, decided to tell me hamsters sometimes hibernate when theyre in shock and if i put it back in its cage it might awake.
So for over a month i had a bloody, chew-ed hamster in a cage in the basement. Surely thats as cruel on the dead rodent as it was to me.
(Emily Salvage, Fri 7 Dec 2007, 12:40, Reply)

I bought my girlfriend two hampsters
we went away one weekend and she had two friends of hers, a gay couple, look after her flat.
Upon coming back the boys told us that one of the hampsters had escaped. This wasn't an unusual occurrence as one of the hampsters had a bit of the Michael Scofield about it.
Two days later she rang me to tell me she'd discovered a dead hampster behind the tv, she couldn't figure out how it had died but said it was a little squished looking.

I'm not drawing any conclusions or stereotyping BUT two gay guys alone for the weekend, one dead hampster. You do the math.

Length? Probably long enough to feel rodent fur on the tip of ones bell-end.....
( sneep used to date Freddie Starr's hamster, Fri 7 Dec 2007, 12:39, 5 replies)

Bozzer the Cat.
Prior to the arrival of my current Boxer Pup, I used to feed a cat from one of the neighbours houses. I named him Bozzer, because of his mangled knobhead eyes. Anyway Bozzer used to sleep in the conservatory and Id give him milk and ham.

Then one day about 6 months ago he went for my daughter, and put a big scratch down her face.

I accidentally fucking booted him with the precision of a fucking missile right into the shed window. A full 15 yards away.

The noise to this day haunts me.

The fucking little cunt.
(hoogie Original Cunt Horse Author, Fri 7 Dec 2007, 12:38, Reply)

Dogs and pondweed
We had a canal/reservoir near our place that was stagnant, so that green pondweed would grow on the top.
My dog, being a typical cretinous canine, ran on to it full pelt thinking it was grass.

He sunk beneath the treacherous weed and the look on his face when he surfaced was just a picture. The world had changed for him in that moment. No longer was it safe to run on grass. What other previously stalwart activities might now be a pathway to hell?

As this went through his tiny doggy mind, i proceeded to piss myself at him.
( 100% Cock Raw like carrots., Fri 7 Dec 2007, 12:34, 2 replies)

Can't be arsed to check..
this may have been posted before but hey.. If you say it has i'll delete the post =)

Cats in Zero Gravity... So much more scratchy than a ball.. www.boreme.com/boreme/funny-2007/zero-gravity-cat-p1.php
( Humpty Dumpty was Pushed Is unaware of having any limits., Fri 7 Dec 2007, 12:26, 4 replies)

Would You Like Flies With That?
.
This isn't accidental cruelty, it's deliberate.

For years, when faced with flies, daddy-long-legs, wasps, mosquitoes and other assorted vermin, I've dealt with them in my own special way.

Some people use fly spray, RAID and it's ilk. But not me. Years of experience have taught me that, when you hit a wasp with fly-spray, they get very,very pissed off and attack.

The safest way, kiddies, is hairspray. One shot turns the little fuckers into gliders.

"WYYYYMMMMM... splat


Cheers
( Legless Mister Stabby - shanks for the memory, Fri 7 Dec 2007, 12:26, 2 replies)

Roast drunk hamster
My brother had a hamster which lived a happy enough life, until one day when we woke up one morning to find it in what could only be described as comatose state.

What had happened was, overnight the little ball-bearing that sits in the spout of his little water bottle in order to stop it pouring everywhere had failed, resulting in the contents of the bottle leaking into his bedding. It must have got very cold and wet and went into a little rodent coma.

We decided that the little chap needed warming up, and, having read numerous Famous Five books it was clear that brandy was the best course of action. We got hold of a pipette, raided the drinks cabinet, and gave the little chap about 5mls of the good stuff. It had a bit of an odd effect, he started to look decidedly glassy-eyed, and twitched a bit.

Assuming that the brandy hadn't worked, we then resorted to more extreme measures, and lay him carefully on a warm surface. The storage heater . Which was really quite hot.

After about an hour of this treatment, I'm afraid it was curtains for little Smudge. All that remained of his happy life was the smell of singed fur and boozy breath. Death by alchohol poisoning and slow-roasting.

Can't blame a couple of kids for trying.
( propellerhed, Fri 7 Dec 2007, 12:21, Reply)

Drunken doggy
My girlfriends Mother once accidently gave their Springer Spaniel some vodka! The girlfriend brought it back home one weekend having decanted it into a water bottle, so her Mum thought it was just water and rather than waste it, put it in the dogs bowl...

By all accounts the dog was paraletic, she was bumping into everything, falling over everywhere. The parents, not realising what they'd fed the dog thought maybe she'd gone blind all of the sudden

First we heard about it was when they rang us asking what was in that bottle

The dog was hung-over pretty much motionless version of her normally lively self for the couple of days that followed.

Great dog, sadly passed away several years later
(Bad_Dogg, Fri 7 Dec 2007, 12:17, Reply)

Brain Damage
When my nephew was about 10, he had a new kitten. Everything went fine until one day it decided to try and follow him into the car, without him noticing. Slamming the car door behind him, he managed to squash the kitten's head between the door and the frame. It staggered around for a minute and then ran off uncoordinatedly.
When it eventually got hungry and returned, they took it to the vet, who said that there wasn't any physical damage, but that the cat may have recieved brain damage.
It never was quite the same. It became slow, docile and would drool very often. Lovely cat though.
So my advice - if you want your cat to be more of a house cat, slam its head in a car door.
( 100% Cock Raw like carrots., Fri 7 Dec 2007, 12:15, 1 reply)

Cranefly Battles
Not the fairest of battles though.

Round 1: My friends cat Vs craneflies
My friend had a cat that was literally unable to do anything untill it killed any cranefly unlucky enough to cross her line of vision. After a lengthy Perfect Dark Session, we noted that Prudence's persistance resembled the Lock-On qualities of the MagSec 4 gun in said game. Excitedly we gave Prudence the Tomkaneese cat the gift of flight, and held her aloft so that she could take out craneflies mid-air that previously would have evaded her and sent her into a state of frustrated aggression for the rest of the night.

Round 2:Battle of Britain
Two friends of mine, both rugger chaps and attending a private school at the time, relayed the benefits of a privately funded education by regularly staging Battle of Britain memorial displays in the classroom. This involved either side collecting a "fleet" of craneflies, relieving them of their legs, drawing swatstikas/union jacks (delete as appropriate) on their wings with various implements, and then engaging them in battle by throwing them at eachother paper-airplane - stylee. Apparently they had just enough strength to flutter into oneanother before clumsily crashing to their deaths.
(revilomcc, Fri 7 Dec 2007, 12:14, 4 replies)

Playing catch with the class gerbil
I lost
( Joe Scaramanga with a G-double-O-D vibration, Fri 7 Dec 2007, 12:13, Reply)

Oh....
...another one.

I was driving down the M4 a few weeks back. 7am, 80mph, minding my own business....

SPLAT!

The car in front, a now 'ex' Peugeot 206 hit a deer that had got onto the carriageway. And let me tell you, deers and 80mph French cars don't mix. It's a good job my Vectra is red or it would have looked even worse. Urgh.

Poor Bambi.

Still, it's entrails being on my car is accidental, i didn't hit it after all. I'm always a little more cautious on that stretch of road, that or i just tailgate a Scania.
( The Pollitt chooses to listen to Enya on, Fri 7 Dec 2007, 12:00, Reply)

When Squirrels attack!
Metro has this great article:

www.metro.co.uk/weird/article.html?in_article_id=19306&in_page_id=2

I particularly like the picture caption.
(The Empress it seems you CAN polish a turd!, Fri 7 Dec 2007, 11:57, 10 replies)

I sold my Mercedes a few years ago....
....then, roughly the same time i was thinking "where is that sodding cat" the phone rang.

"Urm, love the car mate but that cat you left in the boot isn't for me, i'm guessing you want it back"

The little shit must have jumped in there while i was doing my pre-sale valet.

Still got that cat and i always wonder if he's going to jump out on me every time i open the boot.

Still, if you donate £2 a month to me i can make sure it never happens again.
( The Pollitt chooses to listen to Enya on, Fri 7 Dec 2007, 11:56, Reply)