At my last job
I was a van monkey, but liked to fcuk with the office donkeys. I would finish very late, so afforded time to wreak havoc with them...

I superglued all the pens in the office, in their exact positions on top of pcs, desks - wherever they were.

I unplugged keyboards and mice, and plugged then into other people's computers. Swapped every 'w' and 'e' around, only to find they had argued for 2 hours over which way round it went.

I found a (massive) bag of cable-ties, and cable-tied EVERYTHING to fuck.

Staple-gunned the managers dinner to the ceiling.

My favourite game, however, was the caffeine game. As I sometimes had time to kill in the day, I would make the whole office coffees/teas (as I quite liked most of them, and they tollerated my shenanigans). I would gradually up the strength of the coffee, without them knowing, to totally ridiculous levels. This worked, as most of them were total office slaves, and did ridiculous overtime every day, and would get through huge volume of coffee. Anyhoo, just before going on holiday I would take the drum of coffee, and swap all the caffeinated for decaf.

This basically ensured they all went through cold-turkey induced rages, whenever I went away on a holiday.

Of course as soon as I got back, I would build them all up again...
(Superfool is going to skull-fuck your ladyfriends..., Mon 21 Sep 2009, 19:45, 5 replies)

Industrial
safety helmets - also known as hard hats - have a sweat band at the front, this band can be used to hide things such as some bits of spring onion of which the smell makes you think you're sweating all the time.

This, of course, was done repeatedly to other peoples hats, along with ink, marking blue, etc.

The clincher was the kipper skin placed in a sweatband, in the summer, working outside, on a site with a mandatory hard hat policy.
( social hand grenade I was a lurker before you were a lurker, Mon 21 Sep 2009, 19:37, 1 reply)

Oh...and I love to drill
farts into seat cushions, for that 'time-bomb' effect, when the next person sits down and releases it.
(Superfool is going to skull-fuck your ladyfriends..., Mon 21 Sep 2009, 19:28, Reply)

My tea mug at work
has a cartoon of someone being shat on by a bird whilst saying 'bollocks'. I bought it when I started my first office job just a few weeks before my 17th birthday. I am now 37 and it has been to every job since, still in perfect condition.
(randomstupidname would really like this signature field to be bigge, Mon 21 Sep 2009, 19:26, 2 replies)

I love doing the sound effects...
On a motorbike, I pretend I am in a tie-fighter, zooming up on x-wings, and firing my 'missiles' (lights) at them, exploding as i go past.

I have been known, do go through a full jujitsu lesson, and do martial arts style sound effects.
I even did a HADOOOOO-KENNN!!!!1!!111 on a grading, with a particularly awesome punch.

I am a paramedic student, and they let me loose on the ambulances, once in a while. The new one has a bullhorn. Not satisfied with my own joy, I have managed to infect loads of my 'mentors' with the 'joy of bullhorn' (TM)

I am a 32 yr old idiot-boy, about to be made responsible for life-threatening decisions regarding people's health. Do you want me turning up to save your life?
(Superfool is going to skull-fuck your ladyfriends..., Mon 21 Sep 2009, 19:25, 3 replies)

Much Ado About Trumping
At the open air theatre in the middle of Regent's Park, watching Sakespeare's Much Ado About Nothing... a quiet moment approaches... and someone sat at the front of the audience breaks wind. Loudly enough for me to hear and therefore the actors surely would've heard. My sister pretended not to know me and the husband who were desperately trying not to piss with laughter.

How the actors stayed straight faced I'll never know.
(whatktdid, Mon 21 Sep 2009, 19:25, 1 reply)

'orse's arse
every time my friend sam and i are in the car and we drive past a horse, either boxed or fielded, she will say "orrrrrse's arrrrse" in a spookily accurate impression of jim from the royle family (apart from the beard, fortunately).

it's become very difficult not to do it with other people in the car, trust me.
( rachelswipe with a fork, Mon 21 Sep 2009, 19:06, Reply)

Whenever I see a goose, or especially if I see a gaggle of them
I start honking like one.
This is amusing on long car journeys or walks in the countryside, but not long ago I was driving on my own through the Yorkshire Dales and espied a field full of geeses. I had driven about 3 miles before I thought to myself what the FUCK are you doing? before carrying on for the next mile or so.
HONK! HONK! HONK! HONK! HONK! HONK! HONK! HONK! HONK! HONK! HONK!
( parttimedogfish is a Born-Again Reincarnationist, Mon 21 Sep 2009, 18:26, 6 replies)

Each night when we go to bed Mr Bin and I take a cup of tea with us.
This is drunk and then followed by both of us sitting up in bed wiggling side to side to listen to the tea sloshing.
This tends to produce burps.

Last night I didn't burp, but after we laid down I let out a tremendous guff.

We laughed for about 5 minutes.


We've been married for 7 sodding years now. Will either of us ever grow up? I hope not!
( Mrs Entity is in hiding., Mon 21 Sep 2009, 18:17, 2 replies)

Pet Names
My wife and I like to give each other ass-themed pet names.

"Hey, Ass-Bandito!"
"Good morning, Ass-Patroller."
"Time for bed, Butt-Boutineer."
"Where's the remote, Ass-Comanche?"

This habit is becoming troublesome as our child has become capable of speech. Of course, being who we are, we encourage him.

"Griffin, call mommy a butt-burrito."
(bergec is filled with inertia, Mon 21 Sep 2009, 17:11, 5 replies)

Pranky Mc Pranks.
Back when I was a teacher, I engaged in many acts of japery and indeed hijinks.

One particular lad called Frankie was a troubled little fellow, and I took him under my wing. His mother was a waitress in a cocktail bar. His father left home at an early age because his mother didn't want him anymore, so he had no father figure, or floating shelf in his life.

I saw him being bullied as usual one day by 'Tucker' Jenkins, a loud mouthed little cunt who had been transferred to the school only recently after being expelled from his last school for throwing a sauasage on a fork at another pupil.

"Oi, Frankie you dirty pikey!" He yelled at Frankie "Nobody hides from the Wolf" With that Tucker brandished his signed framed photograph of 'Wolf' from Gladiators which was hanging round his neck, thrust it at Frankie, and then threw no less than 13 cocktail sausages on plastic forks at the poor lad from a cool box he was carrying.

Well, I felt sorry for the lad, but couldn't intervene. The government was stopping any form of discipline enforcement, and I was on my tea break and had a marmalade sandwich to look forward to. Oh how I loved my marmalade sandwiches. I would eat them like Paddington Bear - stop animation style with my nose and mouth moving up and down in rapid movements.

Anyway, I came up with a scheme to get Tucker Jenkins back, and make Frankie feel like a hero. All this was achieved using childish pranks.

I visited the joke shop that night and spent a small fortune. I also stopped at the Supermarket to get a bottle of wine and some flowers for the missus. Then I ran all the way to Frankie's house. I knocked on the door and Frankie's mum answered. I was panting from running, and carrying my haul from the joke shop and my flowers and wine.

"Can I see Frankie?" I asked his mum.

"Of course Mr Quaffer, he has just got out of the bath and should be in his room.

"Excellent" I said, rubbed my hands, adjusted my ballbag (which had become tangled from running) and made my way to the young boy's room with my stuff.

There we plotted the fiendish plot to end all fiendish plots. A plot that would see the downfall of Tucker Fucking Jenkins, the cunt that he was.

The next day, the plan went into action. Frankie made sure he was hanging around the gate when Tucker walked in. I was hiding behind a bush.

Tucker came round the corner, spotted Frankie, and the abuse began.

"Ha! It's Frankie. Your kettle is out of date and smells of stale water you fucking shitcunt!" He yelled at Frankie.

I have to concede that Tucker was spot on here. When I was round Frankie's house, I noticed that the kettle was a Morphy Richards model, beige in colour, circa 1974. Wasn’t even cordless. I mean, you can see why the poor lad was targeted by bullies.

Frankie sighed and slowly walked up to Tucker Jenkins, and squared up to his face. A small crowd gathered.

"What are YOU going to do Frankie? You wear Gola trainers, and you use own brand Ibubrofen when you have a headache."

It was then he noticed Frankie's flower on his lapel.

"Hey, that’s quite a nice flower that, Frankie. Mind if I have a sniff?"

"Go right ahead, Tucker" Said Frankie with a snigger.

Tucker leant forward, and BAM! water all in his fucking face!

"Glub glub... You utter fucking bastard!" Shouted Tucker.

"WHOOP WHOOP!" Shouted Frankie, farted and ran off to class, leaving a small crowd of slightly amused people, and a slightly wet and embarrassed Tucker Jenkins in his wake.

Later on in class, Frankie was sat in his usual place, when Tucker walked in. I was hiding behind a bush.

"I'll get you after school Frankie" Said Tucker, all sinister like, and showed Frankie his inside pocket, which housed an Asda 'Taste the Difference' Lincolnshire sausage with a Stirling silver fork stuck into it.

Although frightened, Frankie continued with the plan.

"Come sit down here Tucker, I've cleaned this chair for you" he said.

"Hey, that chair is quite clean compared to the other chairs, ok."

Quick as a flash, Frankie slipped the whoopee cushion onto the seat as Tucker sat down.

“PPRRAAAAARRRPPP!!!”

“Eurgh, you dirty beast!” Said Frankie on cue, and the whole class turned around to a red faced Tucker Jenkins under suspicion of dropping his guts. All the other kids were mildly amused.

Frankie adopted a Blakey impression, shook his fist and shouted “I’ll ‘ave you Frankieeeee!”

“SHNEEB! SHNEEB!” Frankie shouted back, spun around, and did a Michael Jackson tip-toes-bended-knees-hand-on-hat pose before shooting gun fingers at Tucker and moonwalking out the door.

At lunchtime, Frankie watched tucker as he went into the boy’s toilets, and he followed him in. I was hiding behind a bush.

He waited for Tucker to finish having a piss, and approached him as he went to the sinks.

“Frankie you cunt, get the fuck out of here before you get this in your fucking eye.” From his pocket Tucker pulled out a barbecue fork with a cumberland ring on the end of it.

“Cool your jets Tucker” said Frankie, cool as a cucumber. “I just thought you might like a stick of chewing gum”

“Ooh sounds good, I could do with a breath freshn… Hey, wait a minute… That looks like an awfully cheap pack of chewing gum, and I thought they stopped making Doublemint years ago, and its your last one… Are you sure I can have it?”

“Of course, my old adversary”

Tucker took the gum, and SNAP! Hidden trap device straight onto the index finger! All the boys who saw it go down tittered slightly.

“Gah! You wanker! I’ll get you for this you see if I don’t!” Yelled Tucker as he flailed around the bathroom.

“BUCKEROO! BUCKEROO!” Yelled Frankie, and he clicked his heels, licked his finger and drew a ‘3’ in the air, before licking his other finger and pressing it against his buttock and making a ‘hisssssssss’ noise. Then he ran out.

All was going well, and the final and most genius part of the plan was about to come to fruition.

At the end of the school day, Frankie followed Tucker into Patel’s newsagent, where Tucker would buy a 10p mix up almost every day. I was hiding behind a bush.

“Hi Tucker, sorry about today. I’m just so fed up with you bullying me, that I thought you needed some just desserts” Said Frankie

Tucker looked him up and down, and slowly nodded. “Well, I suppose I deserved it. No harm done” Said Tucker.

This was unexpected. I tugged on Frankie’s shirt from behind the bush, and despite Mr Patels apparent confusion at the sight of a talking bush, I let Frankie have it straight.

“Frankie, we’ve come too far to back down now” I said

“But he has apologised, I’m ready to accept it” Replied Frankie.

“But Frankie. Your Mum’s kettle,” I said.

Frankie frowned, cleared his throat, and offered Tucker some nuts from the tub he had in his pocket.

“Want some nuts?” Frankie asked softly

“What’s wrong with them?” Asked Tucker.

Frankie looked down, sighed, looked at me from behind the bush. I hurriedly wrote ‘Kettle’ on a packet of custard creams in magic marker (Mr Patel’s stock displaying skills left a lot to be desired) and showed it to him.

Frankie read it. Looked back at Tucker and said “Nothing.”

“That’s good, I could really go for some nuts right now” Said Tucker as he unscrewed the lid.

BAM! Spring snakes, about half a dozen of them all over the fucking place

“BUARRGGGGH! HUAGRRRRRRGGH!!!” Tucker yelled as he knocked over a display of really fucking cheap wrapping paper.
“I thought we were sorted now you fiend!” Yelled tucker.

There was no display of triumph from Frankie this time. A single tear rolled down his face.

“You pushed me to this. YOU FUCKING PUSHED ME TO THIS!” Frankie yelled as he reached into a Mary Poppin’s style bag. He pulled out a giant novelty custom made sausage from the local butcher on a pitchfork.

He threw it with great force at Frankie.

The sausage on a pitchfork hit him in the face, and both prongs from the pitchfork went into his eyes. He fell backwards into the display cabinet of woefully shite, paper thin birthday cards and lay there. Dead. Bleeding. A ‘Sorry you’re leaving!’ card aptly perched on his shoulder.

Tucker Jenkins looked at Frankie’s body and cried. “£59.99 including VAT that sausage cost me” He said. He bought a can of Lilt from Mr Patel, cracked it open, raised it at Frankie, and drank from it.

And with that he walked off.

In hindsight, I think the pranks got out of hand, and it was no surprise that I was struck off soon after.
(Spaff_Quaffer Wise fwom your gwave., Mon 21 Sep 2009, 16:58, 6 replies)

Toilet Door.
For years I worked full-time(ish) at quite a large music venue, and inevitably developed a cubicle of choice for a sit-down-wee.

The favoured cubicle was the only cubicle in this particular gents, and had a big blue door. One day I was in there, and happened to have a biro in my pocket - a blue one, but slightly darker than the shade of the door.

I've never been too fond of graffiti but a moment of childish rebellion popped into my mind, and I wrote the phrase on the back of the door, about half way down so as to be perfect eye level for the person on the throne.

You would never have noticed it on another door - it was in small type - but when sitting down with nothing to stare at except for the back of the door, you would definitely see it. No-one ever commented on it, and every now and again I would forget about it with consequential giggling upon my next visit... but I like to think that it made at least one person laugh.

The phrase?

"YOU SMELL OF POO"
(perfectrhys come find me on PS3., Mon 21 Sep 2009, 16:48, 2 replies)

Well, just this morning
I was in a very boring meeting, and my colleagues stomach started to rumble. Not much at first, but more and more audibly as the meeting dragged on. And all I could think of was pounding her stomach like a bongo and yelling 'HUNGER STRIKES!' (from the shreddies advert) I restrained myself, and started to giggle instead. And then she started to giggle. And then the person sitting on her right started to giggle, all the time trying to keep it quiet enough for my rather elderly boss not to hear. We failed. He was, rather strangely, not nearly as amused as I was.


As we live in different cities, I don't get to see my boyfriend that often. A couple of weeks back, I drove up to see him and discovered he had man flu. Not content with moaning, groaning and giving his damn cold to me, he denied me my fortnightly carnal delights because he was feeling ill, and then thrashed around in the bed all night, sweating and snoring and generally being a disgusting germ filled boy. At 5:30am, after being rudely awoken by yet another elephantine snore and flailing limb, I thought 'bugger this for a game of soldiers' and got up for a wee. On returning to the boudoir, my bloke is lying on top of the bunched up duvet and spreadeagled across the bed. I can't get in; there's no room and no covers. Knackered and fuming, I applied a tub of fresh-from-the-freezer Ben and Jerrys to his naked arse crack, and when he sat bolt upright screaming, farted in his face. Then I kept him awake giggling like a loon on and off for the next hour or so. Served him right.
(berk, Mon 21 Sep 2009, 16:19, 1 reply)

the unlikeliest fairy
in the 12 years my ex and i were together, we were mostly childish, due to being constantly stoned.
the one time that sticks in my head was when we decided to go to the park at 2 a.m and play on the swings. i was 23 at the time, he was 29.
we sat, swung and smoked for an hour before getting bored. looking outside the park, i noticed the bus shelter.
"paul" i said "i dare you to climb up on the bus shelter and be a chicken."
quick as a flash, he climbed on top of the shelter, flapped his arms and shouted "COCK-A-DOODLE-DOO!"
as you can imagine, i found this immensely funny. paul decided that he wanted to climb more things, so he shinned up a tree. after laughing at him for a while, i told him to get down as he had the spliff.
"i'm the fairy at the top of the christmas tree" says he, "what are your 3 wishes?"
"i wish you'd get down, give me the spliff and not climb up again" i replied.
paul declined. he threw me the joint, but refused to give up his perch. this was why, when 2 drunken girls we knew came walking through the park 10 minutes later, they asked me why i was talking to a tree.
"i'm not!" i protested, "paul's up there, he won't come down!"
due to the lateness of the hour and paul's penchant for dark clothes, the girls couldn't see him and refused to believe my tale.
suddenly, with a very loud "WOOOOOOOOOO!" paul started shaking the branches.
the girls almost shat themselves.
we laughed. a lot.
after getting him down from the tree, we decided to smoke a few more joints. attack a bottle of poppers and dance a conga up the main road at 3 a.m.
ahh, the good old days...
( Smash Monkey lowering the tone of the whole internet, Mon 21 Sep 2009, 16:19, Reply)

This was whilst filming something the other day
www.youtube.com/watch?v=5ezepYs5MQY
(loego, Mon 21 Sep 2009, 15:46, 1 reply)

I enjoy sniggering at tourists and commuters who fall off escalators because they're too busy doing other things to pay attention to where they're going.

( fuck shit up the best you never had, Mon 21 Sep 2009, 15:37, 2 replies)

I recently revived an old childhood favourite
When I was barely a sapling, my brother and I used to look forward to the weekly supermarket trip for one reason alone...

We used to head straight for the loo-roll aisle and find a gap in the display which we would enter and create epic loo-roll forts (using the 3x4 packs with 2x2 crenellations if the urge takes you).

A couple of weeks ago I found the fridge bare during a drinking session and went off to the local supermarket. Halfway down the loo-roll aisle was a gap exactly right and my drink addled mind was no match for the wave of nostalgia. I entered. Barely 5 minutes later I was sat in the best fort of all time when a wall was removed and the store security guard proffered a hand forth and yanked me out.

The enduring memory about the incident is the genuine look of concern in his face as, rather than a thoroughly deserved bollocking, he offered advice on how he beat his depression and drinking problem. So moved by his admission was I, that I almost didn't buy a crate of cider and a bottle of Glenmorangie. Almost...

I remember him forlornly shaking his head as I tottered past with arms full of booze. If only he knew that I'm not depressed or an alcoholic, just an absolute pillock!

[edit] Be gentle, first post! Also, mandatory apology for length (more kitchen roll than loo roll. I wish)
(The Sausage Tree "Snort...Huh?...Shit", Mon 21 Sep 2009, 15:31, 4 replies)

Someone mentioned phones...
Years and years ago (how long?... well before t’internet) I worked for an automotive manufacturer.
I was in IT and a guy in the office next door was the Work Study guy. He was alright but a bit staid…. 30ish going on 50. George was always on the phone.

One day, I sneaked into his office unscrewed the Bakelite (I said it was a long time ago) mouthpiece of his telephone, and inserted some card and metal foil cut to shape and refitted the cover.

My neighbour an old boy, Dan (definitely 50s going on 16), and myself sat in giggles as we could overhear the usual one-sided conversation :
George : yadda yadda yadda
Other : ………..
George (raised voice) : yadda yadda yadda
Other : ……….
George (shouting) : yadda yadda yadda
Other : ……….
George (screaming) : “I am bloody shouting!”

After 5 or so calls with Dan busting a gut, George comes and asks me if he can borrow my phone to report a fault on his….
Dan collapses in a heap and I have to confess my prank…
George didn’t speak to me for a week… which wasn’t helped by the fact that Dan and I used to call each other and shout down the phone… “I can’t hear you!”

I love practical jokes, me….
(bof, Mon 21 Sep 2009, 15:20, Reply)

Flim Flam's post about the Christmas present reminded me....
My favourite Birthday present this year was from my brother. A Tomica Lamborghini LM002 Cheetah, which is exactly my favourite Matchbox-stye car from my youth. He knew it was the perfect present when he saw it at a school fete.

Thanks, Bro.
(David CopAFeel Used to be The_Elcat - Spouting crap since 1970., Mon 21 Sep 2009, 15:12, Reply)

sox
I just realised my favourite socks are my 'Dennis the mennis' red and black stripy ones that I've had since I was 16.


I'm now 40
(EvilMeister, Mon 21 Sep 2009, 15:01, 4 replies)

i dunno if i'm childish or just stupid
But on reading the label on my baccy that says "smoking seriously harms you and others around you" I wondered if I could counter its effects by painting myself blue and dancing round naked with a lightbulb poking out my bottom while I smoked.
(EvilMeister, Mon 21 Sep 2009, 15:00, 1 reply)

a childish confession
being the lowest of the low in my office, the engineers regularly get me to make the teas/. coffees etc

when they piss me offi rub my knob around the rim of the cup

most of the engineers in the office have tasted my dick by proxy

yep, im 26 !
(skut_monkey, Mon 21 Sep 2009, 14:55, 4 replies)

Student Shenanigans
given that freshers week is nearly upon us, some tales from my studenty days.

Of course there are the classics:
-rearranging someones room when they are in a drunken stupour
-sticking cardboard over door frame, filling gap between door and cardboard with packing peanuts
-various drunken souvenir hunts of beer mats, cones, sign posts etc.

humourous but a bit dull.

perhaps my favourite was on the night we all sat down to watch the "Scream" movie. My housemate bing a movie geek had already bought a scream mask which I secreted down my pants (but thats not the childish bit) for using later. Just after the film, I went back to my room, jumper out the window and ran around to the room we'd all been watching it in, sat by the window were two of the girls who'd been watching the movie with us so I leapt at the window with the mask on, they screamed and probably wet themselves. Further to this, I'd also prepared another prank in the other bedroom down the corridor. "F" always banged his door back as he entered his room, so I'd gone in and put a rape alarm (little compresse air horn thing that got given out during fresher's week) right behind the door, so he oges in, slams the door back against his wardrobe and squeels as the loud siren goes off. how we laughed.
(cornishbob is going to hell on, Mon 21 Sep 2009, 14:54, Reply)

Squirt & Blurt
Recently had my man jam tested for virility/quality/taste and fuck knows what else.

Its a pretty nerve-wracking procedure. You wank into a cup, place a lid on your premium splodge, then pass the fruit of your knackers to a nurse - in my case an incredibly attractive blonde Scandinavian type with big blue eyes and a mouth that could easy suck a Volkswagen Golf through a drinking straw*.

Under normal circumstances there would've been nothing more I'd have enjoyed doing than show this girl a nice healthy dollop of my cocksnot, preferably shot over her perky tits, neck and face. But handing it over in a little see-thru container, in a waiting room full of other blokes was just a bit fucking odd.

So I do what I usually do when I get nervous and the innerchild takes over. I blurt out the first thing that comes into my head without actually thinking about what I'm saying.

So I said my thing, smiled down at the nurse as she sat behind her desk, passed over my jar of cum, and then I did a bit of paperwork. After this I sauntered outside onto Euston Road, rather pleased with my little quip. I think it had actually made her smile. A bit. Well, she didn't tell me to fuck off. I walked a few more paces. Thinking about it, the nurse did give me a look like I was a serial killer on day release. She wasn't actually smiling at all. In fact, on second thoughts, I think she was pretty scared...

I stopped, tried to remember exactly what I'd said to the nurse, and did a little cringe inside.

What I meant to say was: "There's enough in there to make a hundred babies!" with a little chuckle. But what I actually said was: "There's enough in there to FEED a hundred babies!" with the little chuckle...

No wonder she looked at me like I was a fucking freak; I just hope she hasn't told the consultant what Mr Hanky's planning to put in the sprog's bottle if he ever actually becomes a father.


*And before you ask, yes, it was a female nurse.
( SpankyHanky, Mon 21 Sep 2009, 14:52, 1 reply)

Honking
on Mrs Flatfrog's norks.

Pretty much every time they're out.
( flatfrog Staring vacantly into space, Mon 21 Sep 2009, 14:50, 2 replies)

Sticky situation
Just this Saturday I was working on an event on London, had all my photo gear in a case that I bought last year. When I bought it, the missus suggested I put stickers on it, as a way of customising it - "why not", I thought. So it now has a variety of stickers on it ranging from a Crank Bros logo (cycle components), I Love NY (bought the case there so why not), Scottish flag, sticker from a website I do some work for, Photographers for Obama sticker (wife is from US and voted for him) etc.

Now, I don't get up to London that often these days so in the evening, after work was done, I'd planned to meet some friends who were going to the football in the afternoon - I used to go to matches with them but hardly ever get up there now. Then I had a thought. I could ask my mate Steve to go to the club shop and get me a sticker with the club badge to put on my case.

And when I met my friends in the pub, Steve smiled and gave me a packet of not one but twenty stickers, all about an inch square, with various designs of the club crest etc - and EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM has my first name printed underneath.

Now starting the sticker collection in the first place may qualify as childish - I'm on my mid-40s - but I do have limits, and if any of the ones Steve gave me are going to make it onto the case, I'll have to get the scissors out and snip the name off. As for Steve, he isn't going to see 50 again, and really should know better FFS.
(Capo, Mon 21 Sep 2009, 14:20, 1 reply)

Peaface
My flatmate made the mistake of leaving his facebook page open whilst busying himself with the preparation of dinner.

I asked if he'd finished with it and he confirmed that he had, so I closed it.

But only after changing his preference from women to men and altering his status to read something along the lines of "xxxxxx is ready to take your length up his chocolate tea towel holder"

It was a week or so until he checked it again, by which time he'd received a fair few messages asking about this most unsuspected revelation.
( Moey, Mon 21 Sep 2009, 14:09, Reply)

I sniggered when I passed a road sign
which forewarned motorists of "Major Cable-Laying Works"
(LongJohnBaldry, Mon 21 Sep 2009, 14:05, 1 reply)

Teaching my 19 month old nephew
to spin on the spot and jump to try to take off like a helicopter.

That is all.
(drain_bamaged, Mon 21 Sep 2009, 13:58, Reply)

Coffee & Mice
Seems quite appropriate; I've just gone through to one of our other offices looking for a collegue only to find him not there. As I approached his desk, my foot caught in the mess of wires dangling from the back of his PC and all over the floor. As an obvious Health & Safety issue, I luckily had the foresight to drop his mouse into his full cup of steaming coffee.

I expect that when he gets back from taking a shit (or whatever), I'll have to answer to the I.T. Nazis.
(the_greeze last slapped a cheeky kid on, Mon 21 Sep 2009, 13:56, Reply)