I recently
Bought a new car. I like it very much for it’s speed, luxury and looks. I hate it for it’s reliability. It’s a Fiat Stilo Abarth, and it won’t stop breaking. First the front spring snapped into 3 pieces, taking a tyre with it. Then a tyre popped halfway off the rim and shredded itself too. Then it decided the keyless entry fob wasn’t in my hand, and I haven’t been able to start it for a week.

Point being, aside from that I made a fairly poor choice and should have bought an Accord, I’ve been missing my CD changer, because I’ve been driving an H reg Clio for the last week, my brothers’ learner-mobile.

My brother had a small collection of old-school rock compilation tapes, picked up from charity shops. I belted through these fairly quickly and became bored with Absolute Radio again. So had a poke through our old kids’ stuff and found our complete collection (at the time) of Harry Potter audiobooks on tape, books 1-4.

I’m loving the Clio now. Every drive I get to listen to Stephen Fry’s sultry tones pouring out the books that dominated my childhood. I’m getting every one onto an MP3 CD once I’ve got the Fiat back, and it’s staying in the CD changer permenantly.

Getting caught is the problem though. Wind down the window, as you’re prone to do in a car with no air con in the summer, and everyone outside is treated to Stephen Fry’s ‘EXPELLIARMUS!’ Making the baby blue Clio, if possible, even cooler.
( Rookie You'll have to speak up, I'm wearing a towel, Mon 7 Jun 2010, 14:52, 3 replies)

Willy Wonka
caught Kraft trying to buy his chocolate factory, but his unions managed to warn him first.

They'd have gotten away with it too if it weren't for those pernicious knids.

(sorry, but if you can't beat them, sometimes you have to join them).
( DeadEyeDick, Mon 7 Jun 2010, 14:38, 2 replies)

No Me But Him
I love Mr 3cats dearly but is has to be said I am the one that gets things done round the house. One day on arriving home from work I was feeling too tired to make dinner for us so decided to go upstairs for a nap to revive myself. I came downstairs after an hour to find him sitting in his pants, with two empty crisp packets beside him, eating ice cream with a fork, the same fork that he had just used to eat couscous from a cup. In a superb moment of recovery he loudly claimed “See what happens when you’re not around!!!”
(3badcats, Mon 7 Jun 2010, 14:29, 3 replies)

I would have won
some terrorist supplies on ebay if it hadn't been for those

fedayeen bids
(nimrodihnio making gravy for one., Mon 7 Jun 2010, 14:27, Reply)

I wasn't caught, but I caught somebody...
Back when I was a young American and thus forced to pretend to like sports, I held season basketball tickets for my alma mater. We were national champions and, as such, celebrities began to flood to the matches. Oh yes, all the big names and famous faces of the mid-mid-Midwest were there.

I held the worst seats in the house. I fundamentally refused to pay for decent seats to games I wouldn’t actually pay attention to. However, the worst seats shared the same bar space as the box seats, thus I often found myself face-to-face with Sam Merrill – the newscaster with the smoothest voice in all of the Midwest. I even had a chat with Scott Wickersham, the anchor with buns (and hair) of steel. WOW.

One day, though, I saw a very famous Muslim-convert boxer amongst the crowd. Holy shit, thought I, so I set about skulking around corners like a pervert. I watched him get into a fast food queue, and I swiftly stalked myself into the line behind him. This is where I caught him doing something which would shock the nation to its very core. And what, may you ask, did I catch this world famous Islamic boxer doing?

Buying and eating a hot dog.
(TheSnark oh, c'mon, like you didn't see me coming, Mon 7 Jun 2010, 14:12, 4 replies)

Milky milky...
Back in the days when I were a nipper, we lived next door to a farm. Every morning, I'd wake up at the crack of dawn to see from my window the farmer pulling a big barrow of massive metal milk jugs past the house to take to sell, whistling a merry little tune.

Shortly after this, our own milkman would arrive with a couple of pints of skimmed. I hated it, that skimmed stuff. No flavour on my rice crispies. I spose that's what I get for having health freaks for parents.

Anyway, I guess I must have been old enough to realise that not all milk was as flavoursome as fetid snakeskin, and thus I hatched a plan to see what the farmer was whistling about.

A couple of days later, I set my alarm for the middle of the night and snuck out in to the inky blackness. Creeping slowly round to the cow shed in the dark, I snuck in and found a bucket. I tiptoed over to one of the cows and started tweaking its nipples the way I'd seen on Blue Peter - I couldn't believe it actually worked! Squirt after squirt of frothy milky goodness streaked in to my bucket. I had a little taste - it was odd, but lovely and creamy.

I decided I needed a good dose of this in the bucket and I'd hide it somewhere cool to enjoy later, so started creeping out. I can't have got more that a hundred yards when my foot hit something soft, there was a loud scream, I fell over and the bucket went flying. Whatever I'd trodden on had lept up and was running around making the most terrible noise. Then there were more and more squeels, huge creatures sprinting past and round me.

Lights came on the house, eluminating my surroundings. Lots of running and shouting and sounds of guns being loaded. I had a look around myself and saw the strangest thing: I'd walked the wrong way through the pig enclosure, where they were all sleeping in a big hole filled with straw. I've never seen pigs do that before or since.

Luckily the farmer saw the funny side of it, though I did get in to an awful lot of trouble with my parents.

But to this day, I'm sure I would have gotten away with it if it wasn't for those nesting pigs.
(MrOli is ugly, but in the morning you will be sober, Mon 7 Jun 2010, 14:00, Reply)

I wouldn't say I was 'caught' exactly. I brought it on myself. But it's the only time I've been punished for doing something wrong, so here you are.
My father is an appallingly strict man. He is always right, about everything, and as far as he's concerned his word is law. If you faintly disagree with anything he says, he will beat the shit out of you or worse. If you actually do something wrong, he is the most terrifying man you can imagine. Of course, like all bastards he claims it’s for our own good, that he loves and cares about his family.

I was kicked out the house years ago, in the biggest argument we’ve ever had. This was a massive blow, knocked me down lower than most people ever go, and while I've managed (and it's been a fucking struggle let me tell you) to achieve some degree of independence, found a job and my own place to live and so forth - far, far away from the rest of the family, I might add - I'm still scared shitless of the day when he finally tracks me down and takes it out on me. I don’t think he even knows how to forgive.
I don't know what the fuck happened to make him such a violent, abusive bastard. He never talks about himself, about how he was raised, where he came from or how he ended up like that. I don't care anymore. I'm just glad to be out. So what did I do to piss him off so badly?

Although we had a large family, my brothers and sisters and I never knew our mother. It was just us and Dad. I’m sure you can imagine what our home life was like with a man like that. As the oldest, he looked more kindly on me than most. I was his favourite son. Unfortunately, all this really boiled down to was that instead of getting the punishments myself, I had to help him deal them out to the others. Not fun, but I was only a kid and he was my father. What could I do?

I was about 17 when he told us that he was starting a new family, that he’d already got two children on the way, and that he had decided these brats, unlike us, would be given the chance to live their own lives.
Did we get the same privilege? Did we hell. Just the new kids. We still had to do whatever we were told to do.
When he hinted heavily that our duties were also going to include looking after his latest spawn, I snapped like I would never have believed possible. I refused to accept this from him, I told him to go fuck himself. And after he’d picked me up from the floor, and physically flung me out the door, he told me I was never coming back.
Since then, I’ve moved, like I say, as far away from him as I can get – leaving the country isn’t an option though, so I’ve ended up in the south. He lives way up in the north, though I’m fairly sure he’s not Scottish himself. A couple of my siblings have followed in my footsteps, and I’ve been there to take them in and look after them – it’s the least I can do, even though I wouldn’t say we’re properly free of him. Apparently his new family had no more luck than we did in the years since I’ve seen him. The two kids were caught stealing food one day, and by all accounts he flung these children clean over the garden fence, then barred the door. It's not the most violent thing he's ever done, believe me. There are also rumours of him fucking someone else's wife and fathering yet another son, but I can’t imagine he’ll treat this kid any better than the rest of us.

I apologise if this all seems a little impersonally written; I’m doing it deliberately. I can’t help but try and distance myself from all this, because it’s just so painful. The thing is, no matter how badly he’s treated me, even though I’m convinced I’m in the right, I can’t help but admire and look up to him, and that conflict just creates such a mess in my head. You must know this feeling, even if you don’t have it as bad as I do. It’s the way I was raised, and it’s family, and there’s not much you can do about the way you feel about family. I love my father. I just wish he loved me back like he says he does.
(Falstaff's Spiritual Successor, Mon 7 Jun 2010, 13:56, 7 replies)

I got caught trying to deliver aid to the Gaza strip
I'd have gotten away with it, if it hadn't been for those...


altogether now....


Pesky Yids
(nimrodihnio making gravy for one., Mon 7 Jun 2010, 13:49, 2 replies)

Cultural learnings
We had a "Sharing our culture" week at work, and I was appointed a couple of Indian chaps, who were devout followers of Guru Nanak. They were nice guys, but a fresh to the UK, and still a little wet behind the ears culturally, so I took them on a drive into the countryside. In one particular little village, I stopped to show them the rather interesting church there, which dates back to the C12th.

We went in - it was midday and mid-week so the place was completely deserted, and I was showing them around the various iconographs and triptychs, when we heard a noise over by priest's private rooms behind the altar.

I told them to stay where they were while I went and investigated.

Of course nothing was there, but by then I was getting a bit bored, so thought I'd quickly knock one out.

I was just on the vinegar strokes when suddenly they burst in, to see me full-flow and ready to blow.

And I would have got away with it if it hadn't been for those vestry Sikhs.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Mon 7 Jun 2010, 13:27, 3 replies)

Having shat the bed...
The usual course of action would've been to clean up after myself. In all of the commotion, I totally forgot.

It's fairly obvious how Mum found out.

Would've gotten away with it if it wasn't for those bedlinen skids.

(So sorry)
(A Nony Mouse, Mon 7 Jun 2010, 12:55, Reply)

When I was a teenage Tinywiener
a most annoying friend of my mum's and her boyfriend used to invade our flat every Summer. As we didn't have a spare room I got carted onto the sofa for a few weeks. These bastards were the house guests from hell, showing utter disregard for any kind of pre-existing household rythms or routines, the whole time treating us as if having them doing shits in our toilet was some kind of fantastic privilege.

Worst, we were bombarded with stamina endurance tests - the two boring fucker's slide shows of mundane photos - always right around the time The Fresh Prince/Heartbreak High/The Simpsons or other such teen fodder was on. Even my Dad who is a mild mannered man at the worst of times - a man who once INVITED Jehovah's Witnesses into our house - could not abide them cheerfully. The only interesting thing about them was their ability to suck humour from a room at something approaching the speed of light.

I fucking hated them.

So in my teenage mind one Summer I thought it was acceptable to tax them £10 for the mental anguish caused by their visit (I was smoking more than usual due to heightened irritation). Being the tight cunts that they were (ever heard of a guest house/hotel/hostel??), they itemised every penny being spent and I was caught out after a brief interrogation.

Being the rebel that I was I didn't care at the time although in retrospect I realise this was not my finest hour. My Mum was mortified but my dad and sister were secretly chuffed - they never came back again!

3 days before you get whiffy in my house.
( bland is bland, Mon 7 Jun 2010, 12:31, Reply)

The Israeli Government...
Blockading the Gaza Strip.

They've finally let food in, but no building supplies.

So, they've been caught for being "Anti-Cementic"

I thank you!
(SatchmoR No, mummy, don't put knitting needles in my ears!, Mon 7 Jun 2010, 12:30, 2 replies)

Manwiththeplan caught me posting images which offend him.

( Amorous Badger NAKED BEA ARTHUR PHOTOS 4U, Mon 7 Jun 2010, 12:29, 3 replies)

Tried to make a lot of money in the 50s and 60s with a revolutionary sedative drug
Would have got away with it too were it not for those pesky flids.
( rofl harris, Mon 7 Jun 2010, 12:19, 4 replies)

ENOUGH with all the fucking kitten photos

(TheManWithThePlan cussed your mum on, Mon 7 Jun 2010, 12:02, 3 replies)

I was caught trying to pray underwater by a couple of horny cephelapods
I would have got away with it too if it hadn't been for those frisky squids.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Mon 7 Jun 2010, 10:29, 1 reply)

I was caught pretending to be the son of God
After several years of fame, boozing and whoring one of my friends finally gave me up to the authorities.

And I would have gotten away with it too, if it weren't for those meddling yids.
(TheManWithThePlan cussed your mum on, Mon 7 Jun 2010, 10:23, 2 replies)

I was caught trying to steal
a load of cocaine outside of a school in a major city in Columbia.

I'd have gotten away with it if it hadn't been for those Medelin kids....
(nimrodihnio making gravy for one., Mon 7 Jun 2010, 10:01, 1 reply)

I was once caught stealing from a footballer’s house
Was just about to make off with the massive 50inch telly in the living room when his children spotted me and called the police.

And I would have gotten away with it too, if it weren't for those Heskey kids.
(TheManWithThePlan cussed your mum on, Mon 7 Jun 2010, 9:32, 1 reply)

In my late teens, I started going out with a vicar's daughter, and, as the relationship developed, I was invited to the vicarage for the weekend.
While the vicar and his wife were absolutely lovely, they couldn't have made their position on our relationship more clear: my girlfriend's room was at that end of the huge long corridor, mine at the other, right next to the parent's bedroom.

While that wasn't too daunting in itself - all teenagers become adept at parent-evasion - I hadn't banked on the fact that the vicarage still had the old WWII black-out curtains in that corridor.

So at about 2am, having stayed up with my girlfriend "watching telly" and pretty well only that as it happens, I go to bed.

It is pitch black in the corridor. Like - proper, no light. She closed her door, and I was in complete darkness. Not even vague light from reflections downstairs.

OK. I know my room's at the end. I walk cautiously fowards with my hands in front, and, reaching what feels to be the end of the corridor, turn to my right and go in to the room.

Over-excited with the teenage horn, on arrival I'd basically thrown my bag on the bed and been done with it, so where the light switch is I don't know.

I start the tedious process of feeling my way around the room trying to find some form of illumination, but happily instead find the bed. I therefore strip to my shorts and get in, to be greeted by her mother screaming "WHO THE HELL IS THAT?!", her father banging the light on and the sight of myself in the mirror opposite dressed in only my shorts rapidly getting entangled in the blankets as I try desperately to run away from everything ever for all of time and the rest of my life.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Mon 7 Jun 2010, 9:20, Reply)

i wasn't caught but i have to tell the story
My wife works as an employment law consultant (basically she helps small firms sack rat boys and wasters alike) anyhow here's a cracking one of a ratboy getting caught.
This idiot (lets call him ratty) started work on Monday and by Tuesday had pissed off people enough to have a review that afternoon. Ratty was mouthing off to other workers that he would spark the supervisor in the meeting when they were alone so my wife advised to install cameras for recording purposes (as long as they told ratty that the meeting was being recorded), the meeting started and ratty was told during the meeting evidence was provided and the supervisor and hr girl left the room giving ratty enough time to read the evidence. He didn't even bother but he proceeded to take his knob out and dip it in the tea the supervisor left behind. A scream was heard so the supervisor and HR went to investigate. In the report my wife showed me the supervisors statement said "Upon entering the room I saw 'ratty' dancing on the spot holding his penis whilst my cup of tea was smashed against the wall"
They reviewed the video and ratty was sacked on the spot.
The best is yet to come - Ratty not having the balls to tell his mum why he was sacked said to his mum that they just didn't like me, so she marched him back down to the offices only to be shown her darling little ratboy dipping his knob into a cup of tea....
(bigbear45 scousers are the barnacles of society, Mon 7 Jun 2010, 8:30, 1 reply)

caught cheating
Well I recently walked away from a woman, with whom, Ive been involved for nearly 7 years. The last two were sort of like the Korean Boarder area. Very strained.

But about 5 years ago I cheated. It wasnt something that I planned to do, I was wrong for it. How did I get caught?

She called one night at about 10:30 - I was in my car, and this unusual as I rarely out that late heading anywhere, and she asks "Why are you out so late?"

"i'm hungry, I want a calzone"

I think she knew right then and there I was lying.

Fastfoward a week -

Talking about something random -

"whats for dinner?"

"Ordered in Italian"

"what did you get?"

"A calzone, I havent had one in ages"

"You said you had one last week - why are you lying"

And that is how I got caught.

Biggest mistake of my life doing that.
(Subway Riding the rails underground, Mon 7 Jun 2010, 3:42, 2 replies)

I was caught looking at my arse in a mirror when I was 6 or 7.

(Archeleus hates cabbage, Mon 7 Jun 2010, 2:27, 2 replies)

caught short
Owing to a massive clerical error, on my paper round I had turned the front of my light-green tracksuit dark green.

Arriving home, with mum in the kitchen, I took a small towel from the outside bog - the size that would James Bond think twice before throwing to a dripping blonde for fear of a sexual harassment suit - wrapped it around my middle and samba'd through the house in the hope that I'd look like so much of a twat that no-one would notice I'd pissed myself.
( nightbuffalo needs more duct tape, Mon 7 Jun 2010, 2:25, 2 replies)

tenuous - i 'caught' a stowaway
at work, i must've brushed against a branch when i was sweeping up the yard. a bit later i found a slug in my pocket... it had slung to my trousers and crawled up so there was a slimy white trail.

i'm going to have nightmares for a week.
(ladyintheradiator, Mon 7 Jun 2010, 1:52, Reply)

I had a fetish where I'd lie down
while women walked over me, wearing short skirts and tops (which had to be white). But then I got court.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Mon 7 Jun 2010, 1:22, 3 replies)

Caught speeding
points mean prizes! get 12 and win a bike!
Speeding in a 1970's convertible - pulled out infront of a police car (didnt realise and the time, didn't look in my mirrors, well i did n just saw a white van getting closer) so i kept up with the car in front... looked in my mirrors again, as you do... it was too late... i had jumped out of my drive into the middle of a police chase and i got the ticket for speeding! arses!
Best thing is, I wasn't even late for work, and i'd never actually speed anywhere before! 4 years later the points have just ran out!
Don't speed!
( SkUG >_O i got a couple of stitches in my eyeball... ow, Mon 7 Jun 2010, 0:42, 1 reply)