I once made £700 by cheating in an online casino
They had some offer of matching your initial deposit, so I put £200 in, took my £200 back out and was left with the £200 they matched. Then I used a variation of the Martingale system that took advantage of the not-quite-random generating of numbers in roulette until I stopped winning, by which point I had made a tidy profit.

No, it's not funny, but in my 20 years on this earth, it's probably the one thing I'm the most proud of.
(Cuthbert Annihilator, Thu 18 Oct 2007, 13:57, 3 replies)

Welcome to Turkey
I was visiting my parents new villa in Turkey and I landed in Istanbul airport (an absolute pile of crap). I got my £10 visa which i needed, then went through passport control. So far so good. I was visiting my parents down in Bodrum so i had to change from the international part of the airport to the domestic to catch the connecting flight which was flying in about half an hour. I was told by my parents that it was signposted well and it was only a few minutes walk and was even in the same building. Fine. I saw some signs and thought i could figure it out but just to be on the safe side, i went to the help desk (literally 10 metres beyond passport control) and asked where the domestic terminal was.

The guard uniformed old dude there asked to see my ticket and took it from me, stood up, then immediately started walking fast in the opposite direction. Somewhat startled by this i ran to catch up with him and he said "this way, this way, hurry hurry".

Anyway, I followed him and managed to take the ticket out of his hands as i was paranoid he was going to stuff it down his fetid togs or something. Anyway, we went up some escalators and i could plainly see where to go and started to make noises to this effect but to no avail.

So we got to the domestic terminal after 5 minutes walk, and he said "have a safe trip, you must give me £100". WTF? I said that i would have given him a tip (i dunno, i had like $10 on me) but now i wouldnt cos of his cheek to ask for £100. He then leans in to me and said "you give me £100, or i will use radio for security. you miss flight, you go to prison room." I was absolutely incandescent with rage about this extortion and started to walk off. He simply bleeped his radio and muttered something into it. He undoubtedly spoke gibberish, or asked another guard if they had a light or something.

Not realising this fact I crapped myself, and turned around and walked back and handed him £50 and said that was all i had.

Big smiles from our boy. "welcome to Turkey" he said and went back the way he came. I realised then that he probably would have been happy with the mouldy $10 bill.

I have never gone back. I am also a weak pathetic fool.
(powervator and NONE SHALL PASS, Thu 18 Oct 2007, 13:53, Reply)

Not me I swear...



(I don't smoke dope for one thing)


A mate of mine is the type who'll drive 20 miles out of his way in an attempt to save a couple of pence on a loaf of bread and usually comes a cropper whenever there's 'bargains' to be had.


He was in a pub one night when he was approached by a hoodie-wearing scumbag.

"Want any dope?" he was asked. He answered in the affirmative and then thought of a plan. If he could get a kilo or more, he could then flog it on to his workmates at a huge profit margin as, being nice middleclass IT geeks, they hadn't a clue as to buying dope.

So he agreed a time and place for the transaction, chuckling away to himself at the sight of the scumbag nearly wetting himself at the thought of all that cash. He came up with a plan, he'd insist on seeing the dope first and only then get the money only he'd claim that he couldn't get all of it as agreed so it would have to be X minus a few quid or more or no deal.

The following day he arrived at the meeting place. He was to enter a phonebox, part of a pair, in the middle of a sinkhole estate. He stepped inside the booth and the phone rang. Picking up the receiver, it was the scumbag on the other end.

"I'm in the other phonebox and I'll slide a sample under the partition." A lump of dope, wrapped in tinfoil duly appeared. My mate checked it and it's good stuff. "I'm off to get the money so" he said and drove away.

within the hour he was back and, as planned, explained that he could only withdraw a certain amount. The scumbag wasn't having any of this so they started to haggle. My mate felt that he was getting the upper hand when the scumbag's mobile rang.

"Christ! That's my mate who's keeping watch. He said the cops are on to us and they're heading this way!"

My mate was about to split when the scumbag said "Look, it's now or never. Give me the money you have on you and I'll give you the dope." So my mate handed over the cash and got a large block of dope wrapped in tinfoil. With that they both left the scene.

My mate got home and decided that a celebratory joint was in order. So, he opened up his prize package and realised he'd spent umpteen hundreds on a kilo of turf.
(Fanta Menace Is tall enough to see over the fence, Thu 18 Oct 2007, 13:51, Reply)

Online Game Conning – & REVENGE! (aka 2 cons for the price of one)

Now if you go into a bookies, snooker hall or dodgy pub (I don’t by the way - ahem), there’s a distinct possibility that one of those ‘online roulette’ machines will be positioned therein. They claim to be part of a national network and their crappy low-res graphics thrill / bore you into parting with your hard cash.

It’s a con. Call it con number 1. I know the people that install them – they just chuck a cable into the ceiling boards and claim it’s the internet connection. These things are two-bit chunks of crap and the ‘online’ thing is just a ruse to make you believe they’re more secure than they are.

Ah well, Let’s call this next bit con number 2. I know somebody that has got hold of a machine, and the hack-codes, and they print off their own future-dated winning tickets and now trudge around such establishments happily cashing in their ‘winnings’. Not too bad a living really if you can be arsed.
( Pooflake braces for an onslaught..., Thu 18 Oct 2007, 13:51, Reply)

this qotw might turn into a series of tirades from me
Not entirely sure if this was me being conned or just a cynical publicity stunt, but many many years ago in my youth, I spent an awful lot of money to get my hands on the STRICTLY LIMITED EDITION, ONE-OFF, ONLY X THOUSAND RELEASE, FOR OUR REAL FANS ONLY Decade of Aggression Double live album by Slayer.

About 6 months later it was re-released with another xx thousand run. Then again, and again. bah humbug, i was conned, cheated and annoyed by fook!

Story from a work mate.

Many years ago when on a lads holiday in a "clubbers paradise" somewhere he, while rather inebriated, bought a genuine rolex from some lookee lookee man.
A couple of hours later the strap had snapped and the glass broken, so this intrepid and by now steamingly drunk chap decided to go and have words with the lookee lookee man and get another watch.

After tramping around for a bit he found the man, flanked by two Uggs with scars, tattoos and foreheads you could ski down and began to argue the toss and demand a replacement.

Remarkably after a few minutes he a) got a new watch and b) didn't get his head kicked in.

Took him until he sobered up to realise the replacement watch had painted on hands though!!
(Halfy By light alone, Thu 18 Oct 2007, 13:51, Reply)

The only thing...
... I hate more than friggin' tourists, is being one myself.

On a fateful jaunt to rome the other year, we were accosted by four armed men, military types, who manhandled my camera from me and forced my wife and I into a very uncomfortable situation. They released us reasonably quickly (must've remembered that historically, ill-treatment of Geordies by Romans is a major international faux-pas) but ransomed my camera for the princely sum of 25 euros.

Like those poor unfortunates featured on 'The Real Hustle' who most likely keep recordings of their episode as mementos of their own gullability, I have somewhere a badly composed picture of my wife and I in front of the collosseum, sporting a plastic helmet & sword, generally looking like a complete fucking tit and surrounded by men dressed as Ancient Roman Legionnaires. Perhaps my resolve was weakened by the 'mucho bella arribaderci' weed I'd scored from a bunch of italio-chavs (tasteless sportswear with a suave demeanour) near the vatican the previous night, but still...

Legionnaires indeed, I hope the fuckers contract it during a global bog-roll shortage.

Length? The standard sword or 'gladius' was 18 inches long and 2 inches wide.
(Greencloud Wanted to go fishing on, Thu 18 Oct 2007, 13:50, 1 reply)

£5! Photocopier! Blue felt marker!!
When I was but a lad (17) I worked in a double glazing company. One Saturday morning, feeling bored, I decided to see if I could photocopy a £5 (sort of thing you just do i suppose).
Anyway, took me best part of the morning to get both sides 'just right' wasted loooooads of paper in the process. So I had my fake fiver (in black and white, no colour copiers in them days kids!) Found a blue felt marker, scribbled all over it, crumpled it up to make it worn and made my way down to the factory floor, where I met old Joe (who I must point out blind as a bat and about 150yrs old easy!) and asked him if he had change for a fiver, which he did.
The rest is history.....
(Skeksis 2nd place is 1st loser....., Thu 18 Oct 2007, 13:49, 3 replies)

Of texts and e-mails
Apologies in advance for length, but I have to tell the full story for it to make sense.

A few years back, I was to be doing a radio broadcast in Glasgow with one of the bands I play with, and we'd arranged as usual to go for a curry afterwards. There was a young bloke, Stu, who was mad keen on this particular band, and so I hatched a ploy. I set up a fake e-mail account and pretended to be Stu, asking Iain, the bandleader, if I could come along to the recording and go for a curry afterwards.

Iain, who couldn't be arsed with Stu, then fell for it, forwarded me the e-mail asking what to do, and was a bit flustered. How did Stu find out about the curry, etc etc. Iain's wife even phoned me - I confessed to her but told her to keep it quiet, which she did. Eventually he phoned me himself, and I couldn't contain myself. "You bastard", etc etc.

OK, a minor wind up. End of part 1. Now fast forward several months, to Boxing Day.

I was playing a gig with another band, when I got a text from an unknown number. This led to an exchange of texts. I'll put the incoming ones in italics, and my replies in bold:

Hi Carol, just got back from Australia. Wondered if you want to meet for a drink. Jenny.

So I replied.

Hi Jenny, think you've got the wrong number. I'm a bloke called K2k6, but I'll still go for a drink with you. :-)

Sorry about that. Sounds good, where do you live?

I'm in Fife. What about you?

Just outside Bedford. Where's Fife?

About 400 miles north of you. I was down near Bedford last week, in Milton Keynes

(I'd been there on a conference)

How old are you?

34. Too young? Too old?

34's fine. I'm 29. I'm coming up to Edinburgh for Hoggers [Hogmanay] with my pal Carol next week. Fancy meeting up?

I've got a gig that night, but I could see you afterwards. I'll call

OK, great. Look forward to hearing from you.

And so it was left. Meanwhile, our drummer, who had been party to all of this, was getting excited as he was wanting to meet her pal.

Anyway, we were having a drink a few minutes later, when another text came through, this time from Iain.

"I hear you've got a big date lined up for Hoggers".

I was now highly confused. How did Iain know? I asked my mate James, with whom I was gigging that night, if he'd been on the phone to Iain, and told him about the text exchange. He looked blank and said no.

Only then did the penny drop. I'd fallen hook, line and sinker for a clever revenge wind up. "Jenny" was in fact another mate who'd got a new phone and was on the way to another gig with Iain and his wife. They never expected me to fall so well for it, but once I did they were pissing themselves at my replies.

They even went to the lengths of looking up a map to find a place near where I'd been the previous week, as they knew I'd been down south. Bastards.

I've been far more suspicious since then!
( K2k6 has a proper job these days, Thu 18 Oct 2007, 13:48, Reply)

3 words
Virgin Media Cunts!
(MudButton does not mean to offend but......, Thu 18 Oct 2007, 13:44, Reply)

MY NAME IS CLERK VINCENT TGUME
I GOT CONNED INTO DOING A COURSE IN OFFICE ADMIN AT A NIGERIAN UNIVERSITY.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Thu 18 Oct 2007, 13:43, 2 replies)

I once sold
weed to a group of crazy kidz and told them it was just grass (chortle)
( Trollman, Thu 18 Oct 2007, 13:39, Reply)

Magic
The closest I get to this is, being an amature magician (Hopefully going semi-pro next year) is quite a lot of gambling related effects. This includes items such as Three Card Monte and the like.

Generally people won't play poker with me after I demonstrate mucking or something similar, so I don't get many chances to actually con people. But I think that may be due to the fact that I prefer showing off!
(oeb, Thu 18 Oct 2007, 13:38, Reply)

I'm ashamed!
I conned several guys on drunken nights out into believing I was a nubile, sex starved 20-something when I was 30+.

God bless ambient lighting.
( girlinthehole, Thu 18 Oct 2007, 13:38, 6 replies)

Drugs.
We once sold mud to a kid telling him it was some soapbar.

Also, another time my mate sold some soapbar to this kid, then the kid put it in his locker and went to class, we broke into his locker, bit a corner off it and said we had some more if he wanted it.
( Slippery Mick ‏, Thu 18 Oct 2007, 13:37, 1 reply)

I once sold
cocaine to a group of unsuspecting chefs, not bicarbonate of soda as advertised.
(spartacus_mills and Rex Hamilton as Abraham Lincoln!, Thu 18 Oct 2007, 13:33, Reply)

I get paid

loads of money in my capacity as an IT manager, but all I do is twat about on the internet (predominantly B3ta) all day.
( Pooflake braces for an onslaught..., Thu 18 Oct 2007, 13:32, 7 replies)

rossydizzle
when buying weed, and being told "it's good in a pipe", this actually means "it doesn't work"; and when told, "it's nice black", this is a special code for, "it's goat fat and diesel."
(Bear Pookie The Frankly Challenged. Halloween is coming to town., Thu 18 Oct 2007, 13:31, Reply)

Early prediction
This QOTW will soon be packed of stories from would be wide boys boasting how they sold bicarbonate of soda, not cocaine as advertised, to unsuspecting youths. Or chortle, actual grass, not weed. Crazy kids.
( abefroman skating on the thin life of modern life on, Thu 18 Oct 2007, 13:27, 4 replies)

Housemates
My first ever house with a bunch of mates when I was 18...

We hadn't signed individual agreements so, when I came to move out before the rest of them, THEY decided how much % of deposit I got back.

There was a bit of damage to the house in communal areas (None whatsoever in my room) all of which had been caused by them but was no more than 'wear & tear'.

So rather than giving me the £250 i was owed, £100 measly pounds made its way back into my account. They, needless to say, got back the FULL deposit when they moved out and they guy that moved in after me ended up making a profit.


(I had the last laugh as the landlord was a good mate of mine and ended up giving one of them a 'light' beating (which may have involved some nunchucks). He got me a crate of beer and gave me the remainder of the money I was owed, and proceeded to hassle them for what they now owed HIM.)

LEGEND!
(Colonel Santiago Introduced surprised kitty to the world., Thu 18 Oct 2007, 13:26, Reply)

My ex-wife...
...managed to convince me for 13 years that she was a loving, faithful and devoted person, who was appreciative of the role I played in our marriage, not to mention the support I gave her while she was studying to become (yawn) an accountant.

That is, until she buggered off with her leadership development mentor.

I fell for it too, especially when she insisted we chuck out all of our photographic negatives from spectacular holidays in the States, Far East and Europe because "we'll never need another set printed". What higher declaration of love does a man need? (edit: I'm still bitter about this as I got some spectacular shots of Yosemite National Park, the Grand Canyon and Hong Kong Harbour at night, but she's got custody of the bloody lot).

Bitch.

Ever felt emotionally conned ? (p.s. I'm very happy now, believing if it hadn't happened then it certainly would have happened sometime).
( Davros' Granddad a voice of calm reason in a world of spastics., Thu 18 Oct 2007, 13:24, Reply)

Years ago when i was a nipper.
Sold some mug in a club 'An ounce of weed' claiming "Its very strong, but you need to smoke a few before it hits ya".

Mug paid £50, hope he likes green tea.
(rossydizzle, Thu 18 Oct 2007, 13:24, Reply)

I once conned a well-known internet site
into believing that i had a legitimate answer to this weeks qotw, when all i really wanted to say was YAY SIXTH POST.

Click I LIKE THIS if you wish me to stop.
(Igor, The Evil Spacemonkey is behind you!, Thu 18 Oct 2007, 13:21, 3 replies)

Online game conning
I'm one of those sad bastards that still lives with their parents and spends any time they're not at work watching Thundercats and playing shitty online games. The amount of conning that goes on in one of them is unreal and only goes to prove some people are complete fucktards.

I had to leave the forums for the game because almost every post consisted of: "THEY PROMISED THEY'D GIV ME ITANS N LEVAL MI IF I GAV THEM MI PASSWERD." Or claims they've been 'hacked' despite them sharing their account with 8 other people in an attempt to be all high level and hardcore.

Wankers.
(chakaflange, Thu 18 Oct 2007, 13:19, 1 reply)

I got conned
into believing a post by Frankspencer
(Bluffboy South Africa! World Champions!!!, Thu 18 Oct 2007, 13:18, 4 replies)

My passport? Why, certainly...
Travelling in Africa a few years ago, I had just crossed the border into Kenya from Tanzania. I guess I was far more tired than I thought: it's the only way I can explain how, when this guy walked up to me and asked me to follow him, I did. And when he asked to see my passport, I was on the verge of handing it over when my companion V stormed saw what I was about to do and stormed over.
V: WHAT the hell are you doing?
Me: erm... He wants to see my passport...
V: Enzyme, he's dressed in a jumper, shorts and flip-flops. Does he look official to you?
Me: But he asked...

V doesn't anger easily, but when she does... well... the guy took one look at her and realised he didn't have a chance.

Yes, I was stupid and I am ashamed. Yes, I am immensely grateful to V in retrospect. Yes, this story has turned out to be much less entertaining than I thought it would.
( Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Thu 18 Oct 2007, 13:18, Reply)

Millions
Once, after 40 pints I was a little bit tipsy, so I walked into the world bank and who should I see but George Bush himself. I told him he owed me $40,000 and he paid up on the spot.

I then gave the money to an African childrens home, as I didn't have time to spend it all with all the birds hanging off my cock.

That's the sort of person I am.

Yours forever

LEGLESS (VISIT MY SITE PLEASE)
(Peacocke, Thu 18 Oct 2007, 13:12, 9 replies)

Her...
His name was Carlito Whartborf and his tippy tappy toes danced their way into my black dreaded heart.
"Picture it, Sicily 1942, me and your uncle vito had just gotten married." I grabbed the remote and switched the golden girls off. I hated Blanche's wide gauping face and Kraftwerk's song about "Bea Arthur Robots" had smeared the whole show with honest German faeces.
I dug deep into my fetid bunch and scratched my underdougies with great gusto.
I opened my awful blinds and there she was.
A vision of beauty.
Benazir Bhutto stood glaring back in, her eyes transfixed on my iphone.
"Gadget!" she screamed.
I lifted the rusty lock and opened the window.
Benazir grinned at me, her 'Ronnie Barker' national health spectacles did nothing to disguise her beauty.
"Gadget!" she bellowed.
I reached over and handed her the iphone, "you just move your finger over it" I reasoned.
Benazir threw the phone onto the ground, smashing it to pieces.
"More!" she screamed.
I tossed her my blackberry, her eyes lit up. "Is this love?" she asked pointing to the awful device. "Blackberry" I gasped, "they're made by RIM" I added.
Her face changed from smiling to grimacing as she hurled the blackberry down onto the marble staircase. It fell to pieces and lay still at the bottom.
Benazir and I stood eye to eye. Glaring at one and other, and with that, she lifted her dress at the front exposing what I can only describe as the most fearsome growler I have ever had the misfortune to encounter.
"..but-" before I had a chance to respond she scooped up the cat and scurried into the forest gnawing on the startled creature.
She was never seen again but I will never forget her hot breath.
For four years I received a hot turd in the mail. There was no letter but I knew it was her.
Benazir and I are very much in love.

She stole my heart.... and my cat.







Imagine if this is the last story ever written about her. I will have to go into hiding.
(jindodsdadsdogsdead I am not stusut79, Thu 18 Oct 2007, 13:09, 12 replies)