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This is a question Dumb things you've done

What's the stupidest thing you've ever done to yourself?

We're keeping this one open for two weeks to allow you to get up to stupid stuff and send it in.

(, Thu 20 Dec 2007, 12:36)
Pages: Latest, 26, 25, 24, 23, 22, 21, ... 1

This question is now closed.

I think i'm falling for my best mates' sister (who in essence is 1/2 of the duo that make up my best mate's) and dont know if i should tell her....and I cant speak to him about it.

(, Wed 2 Jan 2008, 16:39, 6 replies)
New Year's dissolution
I swore off men and hangovers on New Year's Eve and woke up with both on New Year's Day.

I'd really like to know how I got mud inside my stilettos, tree bark in my hair and £1.40 of loose change in my bra.

I think I am also banned from Wiltshire.
(, Wed 2 Jan 2008, 16:28, 8 replies)
Age 10 and off to the fair
I jump into a bumper car, after buying a token to start it up. Dropped token into slot on dahsboard, and car careers off, through all the other traffic, thanks to my foot being firmly wedged down on the accelerator, and slams into the side of the rink opposite. I say slam, but bump probably describes it quite well.

Momentum carries me forward, and I nut the steering wheel, and suddenly feel unwell. Look down, and my t-shirt is covered in blood. My mouth hurts a lot too - probably coz I've just shattered my two front teeth.

As if that wasn't bad enough, the emergency dentist I go and visit declares that it's bad form to use anaesthetic on me due to possible nerve damage or somesuch bollocks. So, with nerves protruding through shattered remains of my teeth, he proceeds to cap them, which hurt like ten bastards.

Still, the fairground coughed up nearly two grand in compensation which I got when I was 18. This was supposed to cover cost of having caps and teeth redone every so often, but the costs are nothing like what my dentist originally thought, so I blew the 2 grand on a 3 month long party.
(, Wed 2 Jan 2008, 16:13, Reply)
it wasnt funny at the time, nor is it now
When I was a poor student living in a less than salubrious area of the Midlands I shared a flat with four friends. All of whom were manky, lazy, disgusting slobs - we were well matched. As was the actual flat - ie dodgy DIY, most of it hand built by the landlord - and repaired for decades by incompetent students.
One night I was having a nice relaxing soak in the bath (must have been my birthday) when the light bulb blew. "No problem" thinks I, because we used to keep the spare bulbs in the bathroom airing cupboard, I didn't even need to leave the bath. The bathroom itself had been biult as an extension, thus flat (leaking) roof, loads of condensation and walls and ceiling streaming with water.
So there I am, standing in 6 inches of water, new light bulb in one hand when I reach up to remove the old light bulb..... the old wet light bulb.


I then did a "little elctric dance" which got the bath water nice and frothy, I shattered the good bulb and fell back into the water after blowing half the fuses.
"Feck me, that was lucky" thinks I. I then step out of the bath onto the darkened floor and damn near cut my toes off from the broken glass.
Oh how I didnt laugh!
(, Wed 2 Jan 2008, 15:53, 1 reply)
Perhaps my dumbest moment of 2008 so far...
... Might have been the fact that I inadvertently used the word "cunt" when putting the phone down after a conversation with my new and arse-clenchingly patronising MD. He makes Lloyd Grossman sound as sincere as Mary Poppins.

I wasn't looking to see if there was anyone in earshot, as the whole office seems to have been party to my sentiments.

Thankfully, my opinion is pretty much unanimous.

The boss might not be happy, but at least there's no way I could be sued under the Trade Descriptions act.
(, Wed 2 Jan 2008, 15:42, Reply)
just managed to slice the top layer of skin of my thumb off using a mandolin without the guard - fuckwit!
(, Wed 2 Jan 2008, 15:29, Reply)
where do you begin?
I always do dumb things - especially when I'm allowed out to the pub. You'd think that at my age I'd know better and to behave - not end up like I did on NYE dancing on a chair, doing a pole dance with a fruit machine, falling over lots and ending up in the bushes in our front garden...snapping the heel on my luvverly thigh boots, and bruising my bum Really Badly in the process...but the worst bit is having to apologise next day for all the misbehaviour....somehow its worse having to apologise to your teenager as a parent than it is to your parents when you're a teenager!

(, Wed 2 Jan 2008, 15:19, 1 reply)
Playing football on the field aged 15ish...
I, in my permanently unfit state, was bent over at the side of the pitch recovering from a stitch whilst my friends played on with their game.

I noticed a large (about 10ft square?), thin(ish) piece of corrugated iron lying on the grass. Intrigued, I began to lift one end of this extremely heavy object.

I managed to get one end up to chest level, and then proceeded to slowly walk forward, trying to flip it over.

Suddenly, my feet stepped into thin air and i fell about 6ft down an open manhole - luckily my elbows opened out keeping my head and shoulders from going down, but then the metal fell on my head.

My friends, hearing my muffled screams for help as I was about to sealed into the hole by the metal sheet, ran over to help lift it up and pull me out.

Damage? Mild concussion, and 12 stitches on my shins where the rungs of the ladder had dug in on the way down.

Still, got a nice scar to show the ladies!

In retrospect, should really have put a claim in due to the councils negligence put that's a bit of a cop out, was my fault after all...
(, Wed 2 Jan 2008, 14:34, 7 replies)
My friend and his dad took me up in a light aircraft several years ago. I guess I was about 16. It had started out as a fine day, but large cumulonimbus clouds were building rapidly as we Cessna'd over the rolling Sussex downs.

Stupid thing number 1: my friend's dad allowed me (sat in the co-pilot chair) to take control of the plane. This was not smart, because I am an idiot. Hence there was an idiot flying the plane, it was like Ryanair.

Stupid thing number 2: I pilot the plane straight towards the base of a menacing looking cloud (because I wanted to see what would happen, turbulence-wise). Of course, friend's dad swiftly took us away from this potentially dangerous* situation, and I was never allowed to fly again :-(

*large cumulonimbus clouds can have updraughts that are much faster than the speed at which the plane can descend, but I didn't know this as the time, I thought it would just be a bit bumpy

Note for pedants: I was allowed to fly the plane because making it go up/down/left/right is really easy, just stuff like landing is hard, and there was 2000ft of leeway before the ground arrived. It was not irresponsible to let me fly for a bit, but flying it towards a very big cloud was very dumb.

I wish this story was more interesting.
(, Wed 2 Jan 2008, 14:24, 2 replies)
Using the same name on every forum is a bad idea.
A guy at work happened to google my username and found out just about everything you need to know about me.

He found out I dabbled in hacking satellites.
He found out my sexual fantasies,
He found out I had installed a PC in the car.
He found out I was dissing work on a general discussion forum.
And worst of all he actually found out that I thought he was a prick.

So using the same user name on every forum is a really stupid thing. So ive just changed my name!

Because Google is god and he will have you.

Length? He was probably having a good read for a few hours.
(, Wed 2 Jan 2008, 14:06, 10 replies)
Sparky Sparky Lovely
Seems that approximately half the B3tan species have at some point decided that electricity is something that should be experienced as part of a properly rounded education. So here goes...

Aside from my mother's erratic wiring abilities leading to yours truly being found upside down in a hedge with a puzzled expression, there's one I did almost all on my own....

When I was a mere teenaged sprout, a fun weekend involved being dropped off in the middle of no-where with a big rucksack, an OS map, a couple of tins of beans and a clandestine copy of Mayfair (if solo) or a few cans of Mr McEwans foamy nectar (if in company).

We would amble over the countryside (no trespass laws in Scotland at the time), find a picturesque spot, bivvy up, set fire to some food and eventually attempt to sleep as the werewolves prowled.

So, so far we have got (a) teenage blokes (b) beer (c) fire (d) duff cooking and (e) supernatural flesh-shredding big hairy hard bastards. Plenty of opportunity for maiming fun you say, but where is t' lectric?

As we bimbled across the moors, there were fences to cross. Wire fences. And we were carring a fair weight, so it was of course the gentlemanly thing to do to hold down the top wire with all your strength while your mate climbed over, and vice versa.

Naturally, being cretins, it soon became an amazingly funny gag, nay a rite of passage into manhood, to let the wire go as your so-called friend was perfectly positioned.


Now, we had ruled out barbed wire, being sensible sado-masochists, and indeed had even grown tired of such merry japes. Even the sheep were looking bored by now.

So on to about the final fence of our route, about 10 miles have passed so far so the old leggies are getting a little weary and bounding over obstacles with the grace of Nureyev is no longer an option.

I throw one leg over....failing to notice that my associate is holding the wire down with, and this is the important bit, a stick...


...(look of horror over-rides pain of slapped scrotum)...AAAA....

...(eagle-eyes notes insulators on top wire)...AAAAA...

...(realises rucksack too heavy to spring fifteen feet into the air like startled gazelle)...AAEEEEEEEEIIIIIIKKKKKK...

...(eyes cross)...WAAAAAAAA....

...(falls sideways)...AAAAA....THUD."


"You bastard"

Thankfully the battery must have been pretty tired or I wouldn't have been able to dump the bergan and limp off after my mate waving a big stick in a threatening manner so quickly. And then half a mile later, having failed to decorate the local bushes with his gently steaming entrails realising that I had to turn around and gimp back to where I had dropped my gear. Uphill.

Not my best day.
(, Wed 2 Jan 2008, 14:06, 2 replies)
I done something pretty stupid yesterday
First day of the new year and all that, I thought I'd start it off with a good one.

I've been interested in this girl that works in a local bar for several weeks and found out the week before christmas that she was interested in me. Which surprised me cos I don't hear that often. Anyway, I thought I'd play it cool and try and get to know her, but my nerves always get in the way and unfortunately I'm no Casanova.

Yesterday I went out for a casual few beers and 3 other people told me that she was interested in me, one of them being her grandmother who even gave me the girls mobile number, I hadn't asked for it. Anyway I had a stupid grin on my face for the best part of the afternoon as I thought it would be pretty difficult for me to fuck this one up.

Wrong! I bumped into her into another pub and she wasn't going to be working to 7pm, I managed to get a "Hello" out of her and that was about it. She wandered off elsewhere, but I thought hey, I still have her number, I could send a text and see what happens. Not until I bumped into her yet again in another pub and done pretty much the same thing of not having a physical conversation with her.

Anyway, by the time I text last night she had already decided that she isn't interested.

Damn, if that isn't crap I dunno what is. I shouldn't have believed anyone else, that way I wouldn't have stressed myself out.

Oh well!
(, Wed 2 Jan 2008, 13:34, 8 replies)
This new years
I was pissed, the missues produces the old bolivian marching powder, and I said yes.

God I regretted that..
(, Wed 2 Jan 2008, 13:20, 1 reply)
Not me but....
I have an 18 year old adopted sister. She's from Sri Lanka and very very dark skinned. A few years ago she got the urge to try a self-tanning product????????

WTF you are asking yourselves.

If you want to know - she just went a bit orange.
(, Wed 2 Jan 2008, 13:03, 2 replies)
Okay, fine.
I rubbed deep heat on my cock. Happy?

Do not follow my example.
(, Wed 2 Jan 2008, 12:23, 4 replies)
Drinking rules
I have a list of drinking rules. If I break them dumb things happen. THe rules are:

1) Drink 1 litre of water then 1 glass of mil before going out drinking.

2) If you have trouble seeing so no to spirits.

3) Beer + wine = bad

4) If you have double vision do not take a toke

5) If a friend asks if you;re ok it;s time to start drinking water.

I'm happy to say I broke all these rules on New Years Eve and had a great time.

Going home memories include: Using walls and floors to help propel me down/up/sideways/backwards along the street.
Getting off ym train twice to dry heave.
Clinging desperatley to the post in the middle of the train as sitting down made me sick.
Somehow actually managing to make my bed even though I had triple vision.
Waking up with a random cut on my face for no discernable reason.
(, Wed 2 Jan 2008, 11:34, 3 replies)
I must’ve been about 6 years old…

But I was allowed to walk myself to and from school as it was only a short(ish) walk (long enough for there to be no way it would be allowed nowadays though).

In fact, everybody in our class lived only a short walk away and this gave our teacher the opportunity of a delightful incentive for good behaviour. The child that had been the ‘best behaved’ all day could leave school 5 minutes early and be home in plenty of time for Dogtanion and the Three Muskerhounds.


However, as I said, this hinged on being the ‘best behaved’ child…and as those who know me will instantly understand…that was never going to be me. Never.

Now, as you can no doubt imagine, this well and truly left my cheese out in the wind.

I tried really hard to be good, really I did, but something would always come along and royally shag up my efforts…mostly by being too tempting an opportunity at mischief to miss.

But one day…one glorious day…and I don’t know (or care) whether it was an act of charity or random selection, if the teacher had got lucky / pissed / stoned the night before or that she just couldn’t bear the sight of me any more, but I was given my big chance.

“Pooflake, you little twunt,” she said, “You are allowed to go home early”

“Fucking get in there!” I exclaimed, my face lighting up with a combination of glee and total surprise.

I packed up my books and basked in the envious stares of my classmates. I was the best, and I wanted everyone to know it. In fact, I decided that just getting up and leaving was not going to be enough and I came up with the ingenious idea to wait the remaining five minutes so I could continue gloating when everybody else leaves.

Now that’s pretty dumb for a start.

As I stood in the cloakroom all alone (and unsupervised) I decided to pass the remaining time by placing my hooded parka jacket on the cold hard floor tiles and using it as some kind of surf / skateboard. The plan was to place the coat in the middle of the floor, take a big run-up, jump, land on the coat and let inertia take its happy course.

It worked perfectly…to a point…and quite an important point as it goes.

After sprinting and running down the corridor, I leapt like a mentally-retarded gazelle and stamped down on the coat, which promptly slid backwards under my feet and sent my face accelerating towards the tiles.

Now at this point I would like to mention that there is a tradition in our family…let’s call it the ‘Pooflake scar’. Every male for generations has a scar of varying size under their chin, caused by different, anecdote-inducing stories.

I am positive that this was the moment destiny decided that I was to get my scar…all I had to do was hit the ground with my chin like any normal human being would do…job done.

It appears that I am not a normal human being.

As I hurtled towards the floor, I jutted my teeth out like a spazmo caricature of Janet Street Porter and smashed them into the rock-hard floor.

How the hell anybody can hit the floor ‘teeth-first’ is still a mystery to me, but I am living ‘Darwin Awards-esque’ proof that it’s possible.

Bits of teeth shattered about the place as my cake-hole exploded into a mass of mush.

And I was alone…everybody had thought I had gone home. I had to wait another four minutes, lying there in a pool of blood, tears and teeth before the teacher came out and found me.

“Aaaarrgh!” Squealed my teacher as she opened the door and clapped her eyes on the mangled wreckage that was mini-Pooflake.

Even though I was very young, I can still remember thinking to myself: ‘This woman is not handling this situation very well’ as she ran around in circles with arms waving, not touching me but stooping to gather up bits of teeth in a hankie for the tooth fairy.

The kids all stood round silently as her panic increased and another teacher eventually came by and said: “Just call his bloody mother”.

Even the thought of Parka Jackets make me wince now…suffice to say the 90’s ‘Oasis’ trend was a very difficult time…
(, Wed 2 Jan 2008, 11:30, 6 replies)
When I was young
I was staying at my Gran's and bored. So I stuck a small 6-sided die up my left nostril. I have no idea why I decided to do this, I suppose I was just curious to see how far up it would go.

As it turns out, a small 6-sided die will penetrate to a depth of around an inch into a juvenile nostril. This is approximately the level of the bone protusion from your skull. It is also a lot easier to get it in, than get it out.

My Gran had to get her 1950's NHS issue forceps out. My nostril was sore for a week.
(, Wed 2 Jan 2008, 11:09, 4 replies)
The dumbest thing I've ever done is cut in front of a lorry. I had my window down at the time, and his horn absolutely fucking deafened me. It was one of those comical horns, too. You know, like the ones you hear on Churchill, only turned up to 11.
(, Wed 2 Jan 2008, 10:27, 3 replies)
I’m back at work now…

Over the last 10 days I have drank:

2 crates of 24 (pint) cans of Dry Blackthorn Cider
2 X 3ltr boxes of Leibfraumilch
1 Large bottle of Vodka
1 bottle of champagne

And that was just at my house, so it doesn’t include the several times I went to the pub or visited people, or even the copious amounts I consumed when I played a gig for New Year’s Eve and was given free beer as part of the deal.

All yesterday I had these terrible stomach pains...and now I’m back at work feeling (and looking) as rough as a badger’s arse.

It is NOT big and it is most definitely NOT clever.

I am a phenomenally stupid boy.
(, Wed 2 Jan 2008, 10:14, 3 replies)
My very first flying lesson
Many moons ago a friend moved into a new house. The previous owners had taken the wall lights from the Lounge & Dining room when they moved out and had left the bare wires taped up safely in the holes in the wall that they had been fitted into. Friend buys some new wall lights that she liked and asked me if I would install them for her.

As I was working on wires that would be live and that none of the fuses were marked with which circuit they protected, I decided that the safest way to tackle this was just to flick the main switch while I was actually making the connections and work with all the power off.

One light was duly installed and I went back to the cupboard under the stairs where the main switch was and switched everything back on to test the first light. All OK at this point so I go back to the cupboard to turn the power off again to do the second light. Went to where the other light was to be installed and started fitting it. Suddenly realised that I must have left my screwdriver in the cupboard, so went back to fetch it. Couldn't see as it was dark, so put the power back on to find it. Screwdriver found and I went back to carry on with the second light, but being the cupid stunt that I am, I forgot to turn the power off again. Pulled the bundle of wires out of the wall and unwrapped the insulating tape, touched the bare bits and 'B*A*N*G'

Woke up a few moments later seeing stars at the other side of the room being told that I had shot across the room in a cloud of sparks.

That was my first flying lesson.
(, Wed 2 Jan 2008, 10:10, Reply)
I just joined the US Navy.
That is all.
*takes hat and leaves*
(, Wed 2 Jan 2008, 6:43, 1 reply)
After my brief sojourn in the Army, I took the first job I could find when I got out. A roofing felter.

We were the blokes who would climb on roofs carrying boiling hot buckets of tar and put down a nice tarmac roof for you. Hard and dangerous work but bloody well paid.

So I was on this one job where we had to dismantle this huge glass roof/skylight, board it over and then felt the dam thing. We started off by removing all the glass panes and lowering them to the ground until we were, eventually, left with a metal skeleton. All steel girders. The next step was to dismantle the girders. This meant getting a spanner around the 40 year-old nuts and twisting them free. It was a bastard of a job. The heads n the nuts were rusted on solid and no amount of penetration oil was going to help. Use too much force and you just stripped the heads. I did this on one nut on the very edge of the building that held one of the main horizontal girders. Only thing to do now, was hacksaw the bastards off.

So there I was, 50ft up in the air with one arm wrapped around an upright support and the other arm trying to get a hacksaw blade onto this bloody nut. The position of the nut meant that I could only move the blade about 3mm at a time so it was incredibly slow going. Eventually, after about two hours, the blade cut through the last of the bolt and the nut fell free. With a sigh of relief I poked the bolt through it's hole and watched it fall 50ft to the ground.

Then job done, I stepped backwards. Into fresh air.

So there I was, falling through the air towards a concrete floor and the only thing running through my mind was:

"You cunt. You stupid fucking cunt"

I honestly didn't have time to be frightened. It was all so quick.

And then I landed, flat on my back, onto an old galvanised water tank. Squashed the bugger flat and walked away without a scratch. But I did start shaking after a few minutes and threw my guts up.

(, Wed 2 Jan 2008, 4:44, 6 replies)
In third year Biochem, I was busily freezing RNA samples in liquid nitrogen, when I decided that it would be in the interests of science if I tested how cold liquid nitrogen is by taking the pair of tongs that had been sitting in it and putting them on my arm.

It turns out that the temperature of liquid nitrogen is about −196°C, which was more than sufficient to freeze the skin on my arm solid, and leave a nasty burn when it thawed out.

I managed to follow this up a couple of years later when I tried to recap a syringe of ethidium bromide, and instead of placing the needle into the plastic cap, I plunged it into my knuckle. Thus far the finger has not mutated into a catchphrase-spouting amphibious ninja, so hopefully I'm clear on that front.
(, Wed 2 Jan 2008, 2:27, Reply)
Stupid, and rather embarrassing......
I hope no one connects this to the real me...

One bright balmy summers evening, I'm reclining on my couch recieving a spot of togerlingus from my filly (a rarity in itself!).

As I approach the Billy Mill roundabout, I suddenly remember that this particular young lady is neither a spitter not a swallower - nay, she's more of a move out of the way and say 'oooh that's horrible, look at it going everywhere' type.

Noticing that there is nothing to hand with which to shield my tee shirt and indeed my soft furnishings from the imminent (and now irrevocable) baby paste fountain, and also realising thatin my supine position I'm never gonna catch it in my dirty little mitts, I decide to clamp down on either side of the glans with thumb and finger, trapping the Oil of Goolay inside the truncheon until I can shuffle off to the water closet.

Don't do this kids. I burst my dick. At least internally. There was a nasty feeling of pressure, and then an even nastier feeling of internal rippage which quite took the fun out of the proceedings. With much panicked yelling, I let go (firing man batter up the tee shirt), and ran off to the loo.

To cut the rest of this sordid and graphic tale short, having your jap constantly drip blood for 2 days straight, and not daring to pee, let alone wank for nearly a week is not something to stick on your to-do list. I'm not even counting the vague feeling of shame going to work with half a bog roll wrapped round your cock like Mumm-Ra's sex aid so blood doesn't run down your leg and into your shoe.

Length? Unchanged, but probably bigger on the inside.
(, Wed 2 Jan 2008, 0:15, 9 replies)
The Quo ride bikes right?
Not exactly a dumb doing but a dumb saying....

We were talking the other night about the annoying proliferation of scooters amongst 16 year olds round here. On the one hand I can see the desire for mobility as soon as you can get it, but there's also an element of me that's sure that they believe that because their vehicle has 2 wheels they are therefore a superbike racer

Which is when "they think they're Francis Rossi" came out of my mouth
(, Wed 2 Jan 2008, 0:09, Reply)
Back in my naive school days...
...I believed the words "admit it now and we won't mention it to anyone" from a teacher.

Short post = little willy
(, Tue 1 Jan 2008, 21:46, Reply)
Almost forgot this one...
It was a hot summers day. It was a hot summer full-stop. The tarmac stuck to my shoes as I crossed Hetherington Lane. I suppose the tarmac stuck to Wilson's shoes as well, he had misplaced his teflon soled pair a few days previously. Wilson and I had very little idea of where we were, though later investigation on google earth revealed us to be closer to New York than Mars.

Wilson lit up a cigarette. I had rolled it 12 minutes and 3 seconds previously, and it's time in my associates pocket had earned it a kink and a somewhat battered appearance. Wilson didn't care.

We stopped outside a red door.
"We live here now." Said Wilson
"That’s a shop," I reminded him. We moved on to the next door, this one a shade of green that reminded me of mojitos on the Riviera.
"We live here now."
"Yeah, alright," said I.

My suit was revealed to be quite dusty when bathed in the artificial light of the house. The whole abode was dusty. Wilson pulled a tangerine from his pocket, and began feeding it segment by segment to the small pine marten that lived in the curtains.

"The Millau Viaduct in France has collapsed, 96 have been confirmed dead. French police have yet to release a statement to disclaim the notion that the bridge was intentionally sabotaged." Shouted the wireless.

I turned to Wilson.

He gave an enigmatic smile I couldn't decipher.

Then he stroked the pine marten tenderly and I knew. Oh I knew.

The cigar fell from my mouth.

The tangerine fell from his hand.

I knew.

Then the soft shite only went and ironed his pants WHILE WEARING THEM. He's still got the scar. Tit.

Oh I knew. I knew it all.
(, Tue 1 Jan 2008, 21:07, 3 replies)
Tombstoning for First-Schoolers
Back in my salad days – before I had discovered the wonders of alcohol, so unfortunately there are no mitigating factors – my friends and I would every so often invent playground games when things like tig got too tedious. On this occasion I had a brilliant idea, utilising the large wall which separated the upper and lower halves of the school. The name, you ask? “Lemmings”. Its simplicity was its brilliance so far as we were concerned, and we gleefully hurled ourselves off it into the football game that the less cerebrally challenged kids were playing below. Every five minutes or so we would be warned against it by an indifferent lunchlady, and every five minutes or so we’d get right back to chucking ourselves off. This game was always going to end in tears, so I suppose as its inventor it’s only fitting that they were mine; when my turn came, I took a running leap and launched myself off, noticing too late that a football player had strayed into our drop zone.

Sorry, folks, for another “I-knocked-my-front-teeth-out” story. Length? Probably half a second or so. But the crunch was impressive…
(, Tue 1 Jan 2008, 20:03, Reply)

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