L A S T!!!

(dozers, do fuck off ur a nob m8, Wed 14 Nov 2012, 22:58, Reply)

I totally destroyed this.....
Fuck yeah!

( Tesco Quality 60.825659, -0.788337, Wed 14 Nov 2012, 22:33, 1 reply)

last

( 2 Can Chunder Word to your mums, I came to prod bums, Wed 14 Nov 2012, 22:21, Reply)

minge

( mictoboy shitting in your cunt since, Wed 14 Nov 2012, 22:04, Reply)

last
(dozers, do fuck off ur a nob m8, Wed 14 Nov 2012, 20:15, 5 replies)

B
last.
( Infidel , shit and wrong, Wed 14 Nov 2012, 19:26, Reply)

I've done underwater demolitions, which sounds very exciting, but isn't really. Imagine re-wiring a plug with your eyes shut, whilst wearing thick gloves and you get the idea. Although once in a while you do get lots of free fish.
( Ring Of Fire A petty, drooling belming butthurt retard., Wed 14 Nov 2012, 19:19, 1 reply)

Probably
not last
( social hand grenade I was a lurker before you were a lurker, Wed 14 Nov 2012, 19:19, Reply)

LAST!

(dozers, do fuck off ur a nob m8, Wed 14 Nov 2012, 19:01, Reply)

Last?

( drimble he'd been white, he'd been black, Wed 14 Nov 2012, 18:56, Reply)

No AW, I'm last

(dozers, do fuck off ur a nob m8, Wed 14 Nov 2012, 18:51, Reply)

Brick wall
My brother-in-law was a National Trust warden, with a large estate. One summer a mate of mine went to visit for a free holiday in lieu of a few odd jobs. The first job was an unsightly brick wall across a garden. So here's a lump hammer, a cold chisel, a 3 foot wrecking bar and a sledgehammer, do your best. I took one look at my mate Darren and we pushed the wall over into a pile of dust and went to the pub, leaving fuzz face to clear the debris. Shoddy building.
(etchi, Tue 13 Nov 2012, 19:08, 1 reply)

Dad's fixer-uppers
Dad had a Volvo 122 and a Triumph Herald sitting on the drive doing nothing but rust, in addition to Mum's Mini and his company Morris Marina that they actually drove about in.

He was going to do them up "one day", right up until the point when, one long boring summer holiday Wednesday, I was left alone in them for hours with a screwdriver, a penknife and a hammer.

I found out that both cars used some horsehair in their upholstery, that you could move the odometer with your fingers once you'd smashed the dashboard glass with a hammer, and that the walnut on a Herald's dash was only a thin veneer over what looked like pine.

Dad found out that he was never going to get around to doing them up, after being really angry for about an hour and shouting at me quite a lot.
( shinyshinyscalp less a man, more a way of life, Tue 13 Nov 2012, 13:16, Reply)

Gentlemen
Impress your next conquest by attaching a discreet hand pump to your abdomen and running the tube into the condom in which you have carefully ensheathed yourself. Ensure that the pump is located in such a manner that it is compressed as you thrust, thus causing your member to swell slightly more every time you move. Repeat until conquest is suitably impressed or becomes a fetishist for balloon animals.
( .Yeti. El amor en los tiempos del cólera, Tue 13 Nov 2012, 12:04, 4 replies)

I kicked a small child's sandcastle over once.
The little fucker deserved it though, he was well giving me evils.
( drimble he'd been white, he'd been black, Tue 13 Nov 2012, 12:00, 21 replies)

We're rockstars right?
So we find ourselves, a bit drunk, with an old tv. We gotta smash this thing up right?
"we totally have to throw it out a window!"
Now, when I say an old TV, it was a large early widescreen, I forget the size, but it wasn't your fancy flat screen, it weighed a ton. So we drag it up the stairs, open the window, and quickly realise there is no way this tv is fitting out of that window.
"fuck, alright, well, we must have a hammer somewhere."
Cue long search for any sort of blunt instrument to kill this TV. We find, in the bottom of a cupboard, a lump hammer. Perfect. Right, step one, smash the screen. Pow. Bang. Pop. Perfect, quite a satisfying moment.
Step 2, DECIMATE.
Hammer raised high, Dan brings the weighty head down in a strong arc and connects solidly with the well moulded Japanese (i think) plastic. Pang, thud...and then the world seems to stop, he's let go of the hammer, it spins effortlessly in the air, straight towards me, and cracks me right between the eyes. Making a fucking good mess of my nose, and a small dent in the TV.
Rock and roll destruction 0, TV plastic 1.
( Windy Pig I'm naturally quite suspicious about the moon., Tue 13 Nov 2012, 2:15, 2 replies)

The Chicken Ranch
A few years back I had the job of demolishing a 60 foot mobile home on a hobby farm in Trail BC, using a Bobcat 331 mini excavator. The homeowner had been living in it for several years while building his house on another part of the property. When the house was done they just walked away from the trailer and turned it over to the livestock. They blocked off the living room and made it part of the hog run, leaving the curtains, pictures on the wall, all the furniture, cupboards full of dishes & clothes and a stand up piano for the hogs to entertain themselves with. The rest of the trailer was turned into a chicken coup. Fast forward 9 years...

I arrive on site to find 6 300 lb. hogs, 8 Goats, half a dozen dogs, geese, ducks and bunnies running around the yard. Oh yeah there were two horses in the back, all on a 3/4 acre plot. The neighbors had circulated a petition to demolish the trailer because it stank so badly in the summer. I was taken on a tour of the building starting in the kitchen, which was also the entrance for the chickens. As we moved down the hallway, closer to the master bedroom at the sunny end of the trailer, the accumulated chicken shit got deeper and deeper until the door handles were covered up. Four feet deep. Gnarly.

Back in my machine, I started peeling the outer skin off the trailer on the master bed end. once the walls were off there was a vertical column of dried chicken poo which reeked of ammonia. In this column was embedded chests of drawers still full of photo albums, socks and underwear. I had to wear a dust mask smeared with Tiger Balm to counteract the stench. The only way to get the shit out at this time was to close all the windows on the hoe and pull the whole stinking mess down into my lap. Once cleared, there appeared an orange shag carpet covering the floor which was in surprisingly good shape, probably because of the anaerobic environment under shit mountain. Looked like I could have just given it a rub with the vacuum and it was good as new.

The rest of the trailer was embedded in about two feet of pig shit laced with loading pallets and bailing twine which Farmer Bob had been using as fencing. When part of the fence would fall down he'd just stand up another pallet. Two weeks of wallowing in slime later and I had managed to demolish and burn the structure and most of it's contents.

I've never been back...
(gdtredmtn, Tue 13 Nov 2012, 1:08, 1 reply)

My dad handed the sledge hammer into the arms of a fourteen year old me and told me that i could go crazy and destroy whatever i wanted. I almost cried with joy as i bludgeoned in Colins face. How dare he take my jaffa cakes.
(shake'n'bake Tally Ho, Biatch!, Tue 13 Nov 2012, 0:32, Reply)

Slightly embellished tale of love nest destruction
In the part of the world where I grew up, it had across the road a large bushland reserve. This reserve had never been developed or part of an ancient civilizations development plans or anything like and so other than being completely natural had, no defining features.

But, for a kid, it was paradise. Bush and tree’s and waterholes and lizards and snakes and spiders but, most importantly it had caves. Some were just over hangs and rather exposed but, if you knew where to look there was a couple that had the full darkness, hard to access appeal. One in particular had a very small low entrance and at the back and high in the cave roof, where the stone had split a gap about a hand span wide and 30cm long. It worked like a small skylight when you where in the cave.

Also in our street we had the resident bully, Chris. He was the stereotypical bully, a few years older than his victims, not that bright, no mates his own age due to him being a complete dick and a coward with capacity for nothing more than inflicting pain and torture on things smaller than him. One of his favourite tricks was to pin a small kids arms back, kick their legs out from under them and then let go, so that you would land chin first and bight your tongue (I still have a tongue scar from this one). He loved to tease dogs, kick kittens, and pull the wings off cicadas. All the good stuff that goes into making a high calibre bully.

(Tales of when he stopped growing at 5ft 9 and had the physique of someone who did no exercise or sport with a love of cream cakes and beer and I grew to 6ft 4 played a lot of sport and more importantly was considering the purchase of a Honda Accord for another time).

When Chris reached his teenage years, he discovered girls but, being the dick he was, he only really hooked up with the girls no one else wanted anything to do with. You know the sort, 13 years old boob tube wearing, smoking, foul mouthed, 40kg overweight, tonnes of badly applied make up covering the meat lovers pizza that was their complexion.

What Chris did work out was that these type of girls generally have very low self esteem and are quite open to manipulation and suggestion and as they are morally quite deficient, they usually have very few limits and for those with limits, a little forced action and reminding them that no one else would have them and they should appreciate the attention OR ELSE, dealt with the complaints.

Chris was quite open about this with the younger kids and seeing him and one of the swamp donkeys he hung about with coming out of the bushes you knew you were going to be put in a head lock and have his fingers shoved in front of you face, while he encouraged you to “smell me fingers, smell me fingers, smell me fingers, you know what that is? It’s cunt! You will never smell it cause you’re a fag”. His partners in seafood saucing his hands never seemed to mind when he did this in front of them, in fact they found it quite funny. One of his girls, Michelle, took offence when one of the younger girls in the street (probably 9 at the time) claimed she couldn’t smell anything and while Chris held her arms behind her back Michelle held her face up against her manky minge and ground her crutch against nose and mouth while shouting, “Can you smell it now you cunt, can you smell it now?”

Chris and Michelle’s relationship flowered and they became girlfriend and boyfriend in an exclusive relationship. It was not long after this that the fun began. It was common knowledge that most afternoons, Chris would take Michelle into the small cave with the small entrance and natural skylight and give her what she deserved. We know he was doing this from the way he would seduce Michelle, usually along the lines of “fuck these kids” (that was us) “let’s go up the cave and have a root”.

When, my mate Adam returned from a holiday in France, during which he and his older brother had accidently packed into their luggage a bunch of French fire crackers, named, “Quarter Stick of Dynamite” that a plan was hatched. For those who have not encountered this prince of fireworks, it is essentially, a red tube, packed with exploding stuff, that has one effect when detonated, it goes bang really fucking loud.

And so it was, one warm spring afternoon, that as soon as Chris made his romantic overtures to his beloved and they disappeared into the scrub, that we swung into action. Firstly, four of the crackers and a cigarette lighter where gathered up and then Adam, myself, Dana (girl subjected crotch in face grinding) and a couple of the other kids made our way the long way to the area outside the cave where the skylight hole was. We knew we had a small amount of time from our previous recognisance (aka perving) that for the first 10 or so minutes, they did the impression of two pale overweight octopuses wrestling as they pawed at each other’s flabby bits followed by a quick act of sex.

We arrived at the skylight at just the right time and could hear the two of them grunting away like a couple of pigs who had found a fresh mud hole. A quick whispered conversation and it was agreed to light all four bungers at once and drop them through the hole to the back of the cave.

Adam held the crackers in a bunch, while I sparked them up and then (which I though incredibly brave) held them for a few seconds to let the wicks burn down, then deposited them through the skylight hole.
As they bounced off the back wall and on to the cave floor, I hear Chris ask, “what the fuck was that” followed by 4 extremely loud explosions (loud outside the cave). What we had neglected in the planning of the revenge prank was the copious amounts of smoke these type of crackers generate when they explode, being that mostly they are used outside and one at a time.

The skylight began to billow smoke like someone was burning green branches on a coal fire, the entrance to the cave looked like Puff the Magic Dragon was about to crawl out and there was screams and shouts and swearing coming from inside the cave. First Chris, then Michelle, crawled out of the opening into the light and stood, gasping for air, squinting into the light, looking a little shell shocked, totally nude with Chris’s rapidly reducing love flute glistening in the afternoon sun. The sound of us pissing ourselves with laughter above them, gave us away, and although they yelled threats of violence and murder at us, they stood there covering the less than enticing genitalia roughly attached to their pudgy bodies.

We made a clean get away that afternoon but, it did result in Adam and I having to remain on permanent alert for Chris and Michelle’s presence for the next few years and making ourselves scarce should they appear. Failing to notice them, particularly Chris, resulted in many punches to the arms and guts but, who didn’t get pleasure from wailing on 11 year olds when you where 15, so we sort of understood.

There are many more takes of dealing with Chris but, unexpectedly he didn’t grow up to go to gaol and wasn’t murdered by an army of wingless cicadas. After an uninspiring 18 month career as a pool cleaner, he retired permanently to his parents home, where as far as I know, he still resides today.

Length? Just less than 4 1/2 glistening inches.
(bad_advice QOTW survivor from the first trollocost!, Tue 13 Nov 2012, 0:02, 20 replies)

Probably only relevant to the Swansea b3tards
Do you remember a store called Leo's in Penplas (it was run by the co-op)? Remember how it burnt down back in about 1996/7ish? Well it wasn't me but one of my mates who in turn did it with his mates. At least that what he says.
(Claude Speed was a Roman called Claudius Speedicus, Mon 12 Nov 2012, 20:12, 6 replies)

Blah, blah, Death Star

(thefuckestuppest cheapened this, on, Mon 12 Nov 2012, 17:28, Reply)

Driven by a combination of nihilism, rage and loneliness,
I calmly returned home from work one day and blew up my girlfriend.

Had my Vaseline and puncture repair kit handy for good measure.
( .Yeti. El amor en los tiempos del cólera, Mon 12 Nov 2012, 16:32, 3 replies)

Buying a sledgehammer,
and using it to knock down the brick barbecue in our garden, was great fun. Not a great story, but I had fun - there's something very satisfying about just holding a sledgehammer.
My brother and I also knocked down a shed, but it was pretty rotten, so we mostly just tore it apart with our bare hands, only saving the more sturdy planks to prop against the aforementioned barbecue and kick/jump on, giving full vent to our inner-children.
( monster munch person, man, woman... camera... TV?, Mon 12 Nov 2012, 14:42, 4 replies)

I was part of a clique of online bullies who destroyed a weekly internet question thing by pointing out when people were lying.

( Dr Preference AjcuiVd289, Mon 12 Nov 2012, 12:36, 19 replies)

Shittish Gas
I've blown up a few things in my little life. The bangers my friend smuggled back from France that left a small crater, the glass lemonade bottles screwed shut filled with water and put on a fire. All were brilliant.

But since I've grown up, banned myself from taking apart fireworks and 'remaking them' Ive decided Shittesh Brass are the stooopedest company ever. I would have said that this was a pea, but its more of an addendum.

Most of the roads in our town were recently torn up, and lovingly relaid by burly chaps. Hedges were burnt, roads were closed and I'm sure a few people got their driveways done 'cause we have a bit of extra tarmac love'. They did a marvellous job, some roads really needed it, ours didn't, but they were all done nonetheless.

6 months later, gritesh bass for some unknown reason have decided their pipes weren't of sufficient quality, and have started a process digging up all of the local roads. Whilst this may be perceived as annoying, ruining nice new tarmac, what really gets my goat, is they are destroying my sleep, and the temporary lights they have set up make it nearly impossible to get out of my road. Flippish Grass have destroed my lie ins and ability to get out the street!

Cunts.
(feedingtimeatthezoo day 1 of his bikini diet started, Mon 12 Nov 2012, 12:25, 6 replies)