I had a neighbour I hated, he had random loud partys and I had young kids at the time
he had a scooter which he often tied his 'lid' to when parking it outside, one night I changed a nappy, it was FULL of multicoloured shit, I took it outside to put in the bin but spotted his helmet, I decided to smear its contents around the inside - I never did see what happened in the morning but I imagine it wasn't fun for him.
(Chopper3, Mon 17 Dec 2007, 17:01, Reply)

Pranks on my kids, Part 4.
'Twas the night before Christmas
and all through the house
was the laughter of the father-
because he's a louse!

When my sons were about four and five years old, they still believed in Santa, so I would sometimes do fake phonecalls with the cordless phone to Santa, telling him to skip our house that year because they were refusing to go to bed or otherwise misbehaving. Since I had gone to forestry school in the northern Adirondacks and they had seen pictures of me in the snow there, they didn't question too closely that I was on personal terms with Santa- after all, that's pretty far north in their minds. The call that had the biggest impact on them was the one I made where Santa told me that he was going to be going to the reindeer stalls to fill up their stockings that year.

So what did I do? I went out and got a box of chocolate covered raisins and poured them into the stockings.

The following morning they come downstairs and grab their stocking and start taking things out when the older one stops and says, "Hey, what's this?... EEEEWWWWW! Reindeer poop!"

Some chaos ensued.

Best part? As I was getting coffee he comes running into the kitchen in a panic because his brother's eating the reindeer poop.

The next Christmas when they found their own underwear in the tops of their stockings they knew who to blame...
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Mon 17 Dec 2007, 16:56, 6 replies)

Feisty women in my family!
Slightly funny story - I like it because women in my family have always stood up for themselves!

My dad lived with his uncle and aunt for a couple of years when he first started work as a lad of 15. They were well known for being pretty argumentative - my great aunt being a feisty creature, and my great uncle, of course, knowing it all.

Whenever she made fish and chips he'd eat it, whilst moaning continuously that they were nothing like as good as the ones you get from the chippy - imagine this happening once a week over a long period of time, and combine that with the aforementioned feistiness!

So, one night, they all sat down to fish and chips, wrapped up in newspaper, all greasy and delicious, whilst my great aunt and dad try to ignore my great uncle banging on about the fantastic chip shop, how his wife's efforts didn't come close.

She waited til he'd finished eating til she told him in great triumph, that she'd cooked that lot herself, wrapping them in paper and keeping them warm in the oven to fool him and to prove her point!

They didn't speak for quite a while, and by all accounts it was back to boiled kippers every night for my dad's tea after that.

Heh, sorry, not that funny, but it tickled me...and it's a bit of light relief from the normal bizarre stories I have about my family!

:D :D
( curvylittlegoth heard the voices in your head on, Mon 17 Dec 2007, 16:55, Reply)

matchbox kung-fu
Only ever do this to someone with a really good sense of humour, or someone you really don't like.

Take a normal box of safety matches, the kind with an ignition strip down each side. Now hold two matches to the sides of the box, with the heads against the strips, and place a third so that it is balanced across the ends of the first two, making a crossbar.

Now challenge your victim to break that crossbar match with a karate chop. You might want to throw in some pithy comment about how weak they are to draw them in. When they accept your challenge pass them the matchbox to hold, making sure they hold it in the same fashion as you. The force of their karate chop on the top match drives the side matches downwards, causing them to strike and burning your victim's fingers.

I've only ever done this once when I was 16. The poor girl who was my victim ran crying from the pub and I don't think I've actually spoken to her since.

I can be an evil bastard sometimes

EDIT: check replies for a (crappy) diagram of the setup
(pmsc, Mon 17 Dec 2007, 16:47, 4 replies)

sibling revenge
my little sister was exceedingly horrible and because I was older, if I hit back or tried to get even i was told off for being a bully. This in fact still goes on to this day, even though she's quite a lot taller than me and studies kung fu.

I got revenge only the once, but it was goood.

I poured the contents of one of those little perfume samplers on her toothbrush and let it dry.

Later that evening, during our supervised 3-minute tooth-brushing, little sister starts coughing and spluttering and saying she can't brush her teeth because the toothpaste tastes horrible. I'm also brushing my teeth like a good girl and I say in my most holy voice that my toothpaste tastes simply yummy and I don't know what she's talking about.

She gets a huge smack for being a drama queen.

Result.
(chesty, Mon 17 Dec 2007, 16:44, 2 replies)

annoying spotty prick
i shared a flat with two blokes when i was at college, one was a most decent chap who i still keep in touch with - the other 'Rod' was the most pale creepy yellow toothed miserable cunt i have ever came across. Rod pissed me off a lot. On one occasion having grown tired of him leaving the bathroom door open while having a piss wearing only his manky greying streaky pants while my girlfiend was around prompted me having a pop at him. after a few choice words were exhanged my girlfriend made me promise not to give the scrawny cunt a good leathering. so i improvised. Rod was blessed with spots. lots of spots. every morning and night without fail he would stink the place out with TCP that he would dab on his fetid weeping face. Well you would be genuinely surprised just how much of the contents of a bottle of TCP can be substituted for piss without altering the colour or smell at all. Not surprisingly Rod's acne failed to clear that term.
( spimf ™ is whoever you want him to be, Mon 17 Dec 2007, 16:23, Reply)

fancy a cuppa?
My mate, the sweetest guy a bit like Neil from the Young Ones only a goth on the outside, had purchased some sugar cubes covered in lsd. He kindly offered his house mate a cuppa and plopped one on cube in each. Then though it would be funnier not to mention it and let nature take its course. Now he did not think doing this was partially wrong, more like funny, besides it was really good acid and this could have been seen as a “kind” gesture. Anyway and hour past and the victim is feeling kinda strange, turns to my mate and says that’s somethings up. Beginning to giggle he comes clean to the absolute horror of his housemate. My mate clearly did not think this one out. It was the begging of a long a traumatic trip. The house mate spent most of his trip lying in a darkened room in the feotal position having pissed himself. The acid was strong and my mate a time to think about the merits of his little joke, but the bastard still had a good trip smoking plenty of herb whilst his mate was sobbing in his psychedelic hell. It took him a while to recover, poor bastard, don’t think my mate will be playing those kind of pranks again. But he can play them on me anytime, but a unexpected headfull of acid at the wrong time can be really traumatic. Poor sod.
(kurious orange, Mon 17 Dec 2007, 16:21, 4 replies)

Bus Doors
Most buses now have green and red buttons over the doors, used for opening and closing them in case of emergency. The green button is very useful when you want to hop off before the next stop but the driver is a prick.

The red button, on the other hand, is useful for annoying people behind you as you slip out through the closing doors.
( wangmaster2000, Mon 17 Dec 2007, 16:16, Reply)

Spreading the good news
After having spent three boring hours in a bar listening to a drunken friend tell me (in too much detail) how lucky he had been with the bird he pulled the night before, I encouraged him to ring a mutual freind of ours and spread the good news. What I didn't point out was that whilst he was in the toilet, I had changed this mutual friends entry in his mobile so as it now rang his Mother's phone number. He looks up 'Mutual Freinds Name' in phonebook, presses dial, I wait, it's the Orange answerphone. He left a message.

Length? He went on for about 4 minutes, and I say again, a little too much detail.
(muler, Mon 17 Dec 2007, 16:11, 1 reply)

Poo on your car
Very drunk and very late one night I walked down someone’s drive and deposited a fat steamer on their car bonnet. I still to this day walk past the house and think of the look on the poor bastards face.

If you live near Chain Lane in St. Helens and know of a car that got pooed on a few years ago, please get in touch, I really wanna know how they went about cleaning it.

Length? half the length of the bonnet of a ford fiesta.
(tedalaki - Like Purple Aki but better, Mon 17 Dec 2007, 16:02, 3 replies)

Either pranks or bullying
I was living with a dumpy little tosser called Paul who reeked of stale sweat and who had an unnatural affection for his mother. One evening, I called that number you can call to make your own phone ring, waited for it to ring a few times, and then answered it.

Naturally, Paul was hovering at the top of the stairs because his mother used to call about that time every evening to ask about his bowel movements and if he was dressing up warmly. And I began:

"Oh, hello Mrs Paul. Yes, he's here. He's been masturbating in his room over polaroids of you...." Cue Paul rushing down the stairs to be held easily at bay with an arm (he was sub 5' tall). "Well, if we're going to be rude, you're a withered old midget who has clearly got some very serious issues cutting the apron strings... Oh? Well, you can fuck yourself too, you desiccated slag..."

By now Paul was purple with rage and teary-eyed as I continued my barrage of insults to his 'mother'. When I finally handed the phone to him and he heard silence, he assumed she'd hung up and had rather a major tantrum as I laughed myself limp.

He didn't see the funny side when I was able to tell him the truth. For the record, we also put his teddy bear in the freezer (he cried); wallpapered his room with a jazz magazine when he had a rare visitor; recorded him drunkenly admitting to S+M homosexual fantasies and played it back when we had people over; and we left a cat in his room while he was asleep (he was terrified of them).

I may have mentioned before that he's a teacher now.
(frankspencer, Mon 17 Dec 2007, 15:48, 4 replies)

office screenshot prank
My mate never used to lock his workstation when he left his desk. Now normally the prank is send an email from his outlook to all your mates and his, saying how he likes donkeys in a sexual manner etc.

This one time he went to lunch and left his pc unlocked. So I ran round sat at his desk and took a screenshot of his desktop. Saved it, and then set it as his back ground. Then simply locked his PC and hit the login box (this is on NT) so it looks like his PC is still unlocked.

Queue 45 minutes later he returns from lunch and all the icons he tries to click on don’t respond (because its just a picture and not actually logged in) this guy got furious pretty quickly... shouting things like 'these PC's are crap.... they’re always f**king up....' Queue 10 minutes on the phone to technical support who, despite all efforts are still unable to get his PC working.

I just sat back and pissed my self laughing along with our manager who let it all happen. Great!

Simple, but very effective.

oh and then there was a time when we changed his 'receiving email' sound to that of porn sounds - a girl moaning her face off.
(Dan dan dan They tik urh jerbs!!!, Mon 17 Dec 2007, 15:39, 4 replies)

Hot Banana
I was about 15 when my grandma couldnt live on her own anymore, so we took her in while finding a home. she was around 65 at the time.

I cut a slit in the seam of a banana about halfway down and put some hot sauce in and taped it back together, buy the afternoon it had healed back up and looked like nothing was out of the ordinary.

She didnt feel good for a few days. feel bad about it now, but at the time I thought it was funny.
( postal ninja has Transmissible spongiform encephalopathies, Mon 17 Dec 2007, 15:35, 5 replies)

to anbody who lived on gladstone road in ipswich in late 1995...
if you found your windscreen wipers made your windscreen massivley smeary instead of cleaning it - and on closer inspection after fruitless attempts and a bottle or screen wash, the smeary agent appeared to have been golden syrup delicately dripped onto the blades..

i can only apologise.


to (name withheld because i dont want to pick up the tab)

I'm sure that after you got your car towed to a garage and the mechanics (that spent a couple of days looking for the fault that prevented the engine from running for more than a few seconds) found the apple i'd stuffed up your maestros exhaust pipe, you were a bit unhappy.

no apology for you. you're a c*nt.
(magictorch, Mon 17 Dec 2007, 15:34, Reply)

like quite a few
sadsacks, my best mate vik didn't get that "scream" was a comedy. she took it quite literally.

we were about 18 when "scream" came out and at different universities. she had rung me to tell me about how terrifying this film was. of course when i watched it a few days later, i found it hilarious, and much more so that vik hadn't got it.

3am the next morning, when she's nice and vulnerable and dopey with sleep and booze, i get my ex oswald (armyboy) to ring her flat and hiss hoarsely, "hello vickyyyyyyy. d'you like scary movies?"

she is still mad about this, 11 years later...
( rachelswipe with a fork, Mon 17 Dec 2007, 15:23, Reply)

I'm not sure if this counts as a prank
...in hindsight it seems more like some sort of harassment.

Anyway, a bunch of us student wankers shared a house with a guy that we all disliked intensely. After a while we stopped knocking on his door when we needed to talk to him, instead we'd throw darts at it. After the first near miss, he stopped answering the door. Or indeed, talking to us at all.

Which, frankly, suited us just fine.
( reallywittyname veraciously conspues lexiphanicism on, Mon 17 Dec 2007, 15:21, Reply)

Bears
Back when I was at uni, on of my housemates got his hands on a full body bear costume.

For some reason the kitchen window above the sink in the neighbours house looked directly into our living room.

Anyway, the day this bear costume turned up, one of the neighbours was doing the washing up, and got highly excited as she saw a life size bear next door - off she ran to get all her mates.

At which point my mate promptly got out of the bear costume, and we all sat there watching the TV, and looking a little confused why there are 4 girls staring at us from next door.

5 months we kept this up. Only ever letting one of the 4 neighbours see the bear costume, and making every effort to make sure that she saw it every day. If I'm being honest, we were trying to make her (and her house mates) think she'd lost the plot.

One day we realised she was working behind the bar in one of the locals. In walks Joe, fully dressed, and asks her if they serve honey.

She was literally rolling around on the floor, unable to speak!
(charlie1105, Mon 17 Dec 2007, 14:21, 3 replies)

Another couple…
LokiMD reminded me of this one…

A friend of mine called Craig was driving my brother to the pub once, and after a few miles, bursts out laughing. When my brother enquired as to what was so funny, Craig replies that since they set off, he had been using my brother as a piece of apparatus in a game of:

‘Tap the brakes at every opportunity to make the passenger’s head jerk backwards and forwards like a Thunderbirds puppet…with increasing force…until they notice and say something’

Apparently, it was done in such a stealthy way that my brother’s head was almost touching the windscreen by the end of it.

He never spoke up – Craig won.


_____________________________________________


The next one is another ‘when friends get pissed at parties’ job I’m afraid.

Lee was his name (Our drummer…A legend when he was alive, and total testament to the phrase ‘only the good die young’…before he ‘bought the farm’ to Lymphoma aged 26, he got up to so many things that I’m surprised I haven’t mentioned him before on these QOTWs…but anyhoo). Lee worked at a garden centre about a quarter of a mile from my parents’ house, so if I had any house parties on a Friday it would be a result for him as he could easily get to work on the Saturday.

9 times out of 10, Lee was the first to pass out when pissed. Unfortunately, he had a habit of getting ‘seriously ambitious’ munchies( the difference between the ‘normal’ munchies and ‘seriously ambitious’ munchies are that, instead of grabbing a packet of crisps from the cupboard, Lee would try to cook a whole roast dinner with the works, yet usually pass out leaving everything to burn….including the kitchen).

So there he was after one of these occasions…lying uber-unconscious after a particularly heavy session.

After we had put the fire out in the kitchen (AGAIN), there was a group of rather annoyed people gathered round the snoring, twat-battered bell-end.

What could we do? The ‘shaving of the eyebrows’ thing was old hat...the ‘drawing over him with permanent marker’ prank had gone stale…we had to think of something new…

So a couple of girls got to work…with their make up. It started quite tasteful, bit of blusher, eye shadow etc., as they were unsure as to how much pressure they could apply without waking him up. Once we had realised that it didn’t matter a jot and he was totally spark out, they continued with ever more layers until they drew the line at the ‘hideous transvestite / cheap 80 year old hooker’ stage. (I’d had a bit to drink so decided to go to bed before I tried it on with him…)

They then tied his grunge-style long hair into a neat French plait and left him til morning.

We waited until he had about 5 minutes before the start of his shift at the garden centre and shook him violently. ”Lee, you cock-spot", we shouted in unison: "You're going to be late for work!”

“Whaaa?...Oh fucking hell!” Exclaimed Lee, looking at his watch, realising he had no time to wash etc and he bolted out the door in full slapper-esque show-girl regalia.

He had made it through the door of the garden centre, and past a few of the ‘early doors’ old grannies before he realised something was up…luckily for him, his boss never saw him and he was able to slither out of there and call a sickie.

Apparently, it was the French Plait that gave the game away, not the shocked and distressed looks of several OAPs when the hugely-hungover bastard lovechild of Julian Clary and Dame Edna Everage sprinted past them.

As he knocked on my front door a few minutes later, his response was surprisingly understated considering the pack of howling-with-laughter party guests that welcomed him back…

“You.are.all.BAAAAASTARDS!!!.” he said.
( Pooflake braces for an onslaught..., Mon 17 Dec 2007, 14:19, 5 replies)

My friend Iain...
... for that was indeed his name, used to, before purchasing a proper bike (a nice one, too, he'd like me to inform you I imagine) had a moped. Slightly chavvy but it got him from A to B without paying Ken Livingstone's ridiculous bus fares.

He was friends with three or four other lads of the same age - 17 - who also had hairdryers-on-wheels. And they'd go out for rides around long roads, which was absolutely not gay at all. Straight as an arrow, no homophobic undertones in a group of men driving on vibrating machines to remote locations in the slightest. But I digress...

One of them, Will, took it all a bit too far. He started calling them the "Biker Boyz" after the Lawrence Fishbourne film and even made a website. Regretfully I have forgotten the URL.

At this point myself, Iain and a couple of other friends were in a band and we had a forum. I had the fantastic idea of a caption competition on this forum, and the first picture was one of Iain, on his bright yellow moped, trying desperately to look quite hard.

Our mutual friend, Petley, for that was and is his name etc., went on the guestbook of the Biker Boyz site and left a message under the name of "Emma," saying "whos the sexy boy on the yellow ped? xxx" Iain promptly pasted this onto the forum in a defiant show of victory. And we laughed, since he was the only one who didn't know that Emma wasn't a buxom blonde but rather a black-haired Watford fan who lived next door to him.

I was talking about this with Petley when an idea hit me. "Do you have Windows Messenger as well as MSN Messenger?" I asked of him, and he replied in the affirmative. A plan was born, and I created the IM account of "[email protected]" and Petley signed into it AT THE SAME TIME AS HE WAS ONLINE WITH HIS NORMAL ACCOUNT. This was key, as it was a watertight alibi. Iain was talking to both of us on MSN at the same time as "Emma" began to talk to him.

I can't remember the exact conversation but two parts really stand out for me:

xXxEmmaxXx says:
k here is my pic
**sends**
Iain says:
lol, you are sexy
Iain says:
like in your email name

...

Actually I can't remember the other one but that's surely enough? I'll edit later if it comes back to me.

Anyway, that would have been enough for most people, but our group of friends was very much built on honour, in the way of the noble samurai. If Iain found out it was us then, as he had said to others before: "Three words- 'revenge wi-' ... FOUR words- 'revenge will be mine.'" So we needed a way to get off the hook. I was the one who provided the perfect way to do this via our guitar-playing, PES-loving friend.

Iain says:
so what are you into?
xXxEmmaxXx says:
well I like playing guitar, and also a bit of virtual football. It's Martin, HA!
*emma signs off*

The best bit of this was Iain talking to me and Petley on MSN at the same time and going "Matt... I've been totally done."

For the next couple of weeks he was convinced Martin had fucked him over and pretty much everyone knew the truth except for Iain and Martin. So one day on the way to band practice Iain suddenly turned to Martin and said "look I was going to get you back but fuck it, it was a brilliant joke and well done."

I caught eyes with my drummer and buried my head behind the newspaper I held, laughing my arse off.

Martin: "What?"

Martin apparently 'feigned innocence' and that was the end of the matter.

Except to this day Iain still thinks Martin really got one over on him, and we still bring it up from time to time. Usage of the phrase "lol you are sexy like in your email" riles him up quite a bit.

Length.
(MJPerry was crude but clickable at, Mon 17 Dec 2007, 14:19, Reply)

Hotel cleaning
I think I've posted this before, but it's certainly relevant here....

Many moons ago, I spent a season working in a ski resort in France. My job basically involved cleaning guest rooms and serving dinner.

The way things worked, once all the rooms were cleaned on your floor you could go out skiing. One week, we had a right bunch of louts in - their room was an absolute mess every day. Given that the manager inspected the rooms, we had to clean it properly.

Anyway, by the end of the week me and my mate are getting really pissed off that this is wasting us 1/2 on the hill every day, and decide to get some revenge.

I pissed in a bottle of sun-in (mmm rubbing my urine into your hair is nice), and my mate proceeded to insert each of their toothbrushes into his bum (one at a time), brush end first.

What really tops this off is that they'd left a camera in the room. I'd love to have seen their faces when those photos came back from boots, and they realised just what they've been brushing their teeth with for the last few days!

I don't feel guilty - the fuckers deserved it
(charlie1105, Mon 17 Dec 2007, 14:10, 7 replies)

Terrorism Trickery
We had a particularly annoying housemate several years ago-a gentleman of Irish descent who was one of the most lazy, stinking, amoral and bullshiting sons of bitches ever to walk the earth.

I can’t remember that many of his outrageous lies and depraved behaviours at the moment, suffice to say they were legion…

One of the most commonly encountered was that his father was active in the IRA (it was never specified whether this was a current situation, or something from the long distant past). Being young and naive we did not immediately condemn this as the utter sack of bull’s cocks it now seems it so obviously is.

We did however decide to call his bluff anyway-a trip to the town centre sorted us out for the purchase of some black balaclavas (I can’t believe you can buy these so easily. I can’t think of one innocent reason why someone would want one) from the market. One of us had already recently purchased a blank firing replica pistol from “Cash Converters” on a drunken whim some weeks previously…

Because the lazy swine never stirred from his stinking pit until late morning (at the earliest) we decided the ideal time to surprise him would be during the pre-dawn hours. The next day he was somewhat rudely awoken by 3 large men wearing balaclavas kicking him out of bed and pointing a gun at his head whilst demanding in outrageous “Oirish” accents “ARE YOU “LAZY STINKING BASTARD SENIOR’S” BOY???”

To give him his due, he did pretty much shit himself, so perhaps it was true after all…
(Fat Edgar, Mon 17 Dec 2007, 14:02, 1 reply)

GCO MC
My brother is a big bad tattooed biker, and had organised a rally in a field by a local boozer. Bands booked, tickets on sale, everything dandy...... then I decide to intervene.

This was back in the days before the interweb and computers were everywhere, so I got my Ma to type up a super professional-looking letter from a gay motorcycle club who had apparently inadvertantly been double-booked at the same venue.

Explaining that it would be absolutely spiffing if they could combine the two rallies, I outlined plans for a "Bristliest Moustache" contest, along with "Mr Wet Y-Fronts" and "Big Bunch of Keys" contest.
I layed on thick the innuendo, you know, standard stuff, asking for prizes for the abovementioned contests to be things like "a good ride on a big chopper" etc.
Finishing by asking for 50 tickets in advance, complete with a "jokey" question about who to shag for a discount, I lit the blue touch-paper and retired to a safe distance.

Well, to say bro was unamused is to understate things slightly. His business partner took one look at the letter and decided he was having nothing more to do with it, despite plenty of tickets sold. Bro was incandescent with rage, his meticulously planned beerathon would be ruined as soon as the first pair of backless leather trousers minced into view. (Chaps? Ooh, yes, I'll say!)

He knew disaster loomed, no-one was going to simply shrug it off and welcome the GCO MC (Gays Coming Out Motorcycle Club) into their fold, it would interrupt the axe throwing competition. Fucking hell, who is going to want to go to the "camp site"? That's it, cancel it!!!

It was only after my parents stopped laughing long enough to point out that the letter was signed by a P McCracken, could it possibly be Phil? Maybe the whole thing might be a prank? With that, but not totally convinced, he calmed down a bit.

I spent that whole weekend interrupting him and telling him a beefy bloke with a huge moustache on a pink motorbike was asking for him at the gate - he went white every single time.

The best of it is that to this day he is still unaware I am the culprit, because I had managed to keep a straight face when quizzed about the origins of the letter. He hasn't organised any more rallies though. Ho hum!
(Rsoles, Mon 17 Dec 2007, 13:44, 3 replies)

Simpson Logic
My mate Simmy, who gained his imaginative nickname by virtue of his surname being Simpson, is one of the most decent, generous people I've ever met. He's also one of the most gullible, which is why we used to play practical jokes galore on him at university.

Simmy was also poor at reasoned debate and arguing a point. He'd start to argue his case, then as it was refuted by others, he'd gradually swing round until he was arguing exactly the opposite. This always amused us.

One day, another of our bunch, Alan, who was studying computer science, came in with a huge grin on his face and said, "You'll never guess, Simmy. We had a lecture today about a form of logic in which it is possible to prove that 1 = 0, and it's called 'Simpson Logic'. They must have named it after you."

Of course he'd made this all up, but Simmy swallowed it hook, line and sinker, and it was brought up at regular intervals whenever there was any sort of debate going on.

We eventually told him the truth on the night of our graduation dinner. His response was one of incredulity, to say the least, because he'd believed it for years. This was followed of course by several shouts of "You bunch of bastards!" and similar.
( K2k6 has a proper job these days, Mon 17 Dec 2007, 13:43, Reply)

Sort of a prank...
One of my favourite things to do is to get lots of extra hot chili's, some chili powder and some tesco value(tm) vodka and mix them together in the bottle and leave it for a few days in the sun, liberally shaking every now and again. After a few days, sieve out the stuff so you have this orange glowing vodka in a bottle and wait till your next house party, once a number of friends are drunk enough to not really care what they are drinking, offer them a shot of Orange/special/whatever flavoured vodka and sit back and watch the show.

I learned this prank by been on the recieving end myself so I know what its like, its like drinking fiery napalm, it hurts like hell.

For extra fun, make sure multiple people do it at once so the resulting stampede for the sink means certain people will be waiting for a while, possibly screaming.
(Guilt wants to get in your moist confines, Mon 17 Dec 2007, 12:46, 2 replies)

Hubris!
Imagine in the distant past that was the late 80's. University. Students. Practical jokes.

How. Fucking. Dull.

I was the dullest of the dull thinking he was oh so fucking hilarious with the patently irritating practical "jokes".

Anyhoo one i came up with was this, you need one pissed up mate, his bed, the central heating turned WAY up and a kilo of icing sugar. This works best if said mate is hairy and tends to sleep in or almost in the all together.

Before he (or she) goes to pass out, sprinkle the icing sugar evenly over the sheets and pillow, rub it in well so it escapes casual inspection.

Mate/Victim goes to bed, extra hot house, drunken sweats, et voila, icing sugar firmly glues them into bed. Bon Appétit. Cries of agony and woe when said mate wakes up and gives themselves a full body wax as they struggle out of bed or even more “hilariously” can’t get out of the bed and either pisses themselves or if they’ve been drinking stout suffers from “fart o’doom” syndrome and befouls their mattress.

Now the paranoia engendered in the successful perpetrator of such an “extinction level event” prank meant that I used to regularly rub a wetted finger down my sheets prior to sleep and taste the resultant finger looking for sugar.

Even on my honeymoon.

Now my wife commented upon this to my mates who through the mists of time, recalled how the jape worked, they should, two of them had suffered it decades previously.

Rewenge is a dish best served ice cold I hear. And they, with the willing aid of my fragrant bride, plotted my downfall.

Now I like to drink a fair bit, I’m rather hirsute and I usually sleep au naturel. Perfect fodder for the jape, apart from my ingrained survival skills around sugared sheets.

This is where my wife came in, she informed my friends that she’d take care of this, so basically she jumped me every night for several months, just as I was about to perform my nightly sugar security routine and screwed my brains out. For long enough to for to forget my battle hardened icing reflex and become lulled into a false sense of security.

Our tale moves forward a year or so, a friend’s stag weekend, the subject of japes crops up and I’m reminded by one of the conspirators that I used to have a mean reputation for japes at university. Something about sugar one piped up.

I’d like to say that my sixth, seventh and eighth senses prickled my awareness at this point, but the lazy fuckers didn’t say a dickybird, so I blundered straight on into their trap.

I even bought the fucking icing sugar.

Nasty hotel, lots of beer and a ruby, giggles as the best man informs me that he’s spiked the groom-to-be’s bed and that he’s got a video camera set up to record the scene in the morning.

Any alarm bells on my side? None!

I go for a finishing few in the hotel bar with the lads, and crash out.

I awake with an urgent note from my prostrate that an Olympic swimming pool of urine has shown up and needs to be sorted asap.
I try to get out of bed.

Oh the humanity!

Oh the dawning realisation that i was at home to madame retribution and at all my friends and loved ones were in on it.

I decide on the course of gallantry and not pissing in the bed and through main force yank myself, the tightly tucked in sheets and the pillow from the bed and into the shower to attempt to remove two kilos of icing from my body without giving myself a back crack and sack wax.

It fucking hurt.

Removing bedclothes and gooey icing sugar from your scrotum using a fixed hotel shower is an experience I urge none of you to duplicate, unless you are very good at doing hand stands in the bath.

Years later I’m still checking the sheets for sugar.
( edz314 smelled the glove on, Mon 17 Dec 2007, 12:19, 4 replies)

Choo Choo!
As a rather bold and independent child I was no stranger to going on trips unaccompanied. In fact many school holidays revolved around one day travelcards and mincing around London.

So one day me and best mate convinced another friend to come out with us for the day. He was a little unsure of himself and I can't help but wonder if (apart from a Haven holiday to Bournemouth) he'd ever left our town.

So, you can imagine his face when after about an hour on the train we grabbed him, frog marched him over to the open doors and held him there before giving him a firm shove out the door once the "doors closing" warning beeps sounded.

The look of terror on his face as the train with the only people he knew for 20 miles pulled away from the station still haunts me.

T'was before the advent of mobile phones so we decided to be kind and wait at the next station for him to arrive on the next train (20 mins). You could still see the tears....
(golddust QOTW now revolves around being a cunt, Mon 17 Dec 2007, 12:02, 1 reply)

ebay
I've just sold my wifes laptop on ebay.

Although I backed up all her stuff before posting it I told her "I thought she did it".

She was cross enough that I "just decided" to sell her laptop anyway.

To be fair, I was getting annoyed with her using her laptop when I was trying to watch TV.
(golddust QOTW now revolves around being a cunt, Mon 17 Dec 2007, 11:53, 6 replies)

xmas
I've led my wife to believe that she'll be getting a diamond ring and some Manolo Blahnik shoes from Santa. In reality, she's getting some rubber gloves and a pan. Welcome to married life, dear!
(frankspencer, Mon 17 Dec 2007, 11:25, 1 reply)

Not particularly evil...
The password story reminded me of how my mates at work changed my password to "ilovebum". Well it's not untrue, so in defiance I used it. But when my boss wanted my password when I went on holiday (yeah, we had great IT security) it got slightly dodgy.

I got my revenge on one of them. When I left the company I altered his internal job list. The boss queried him on the task that said he must "mince around the office".

I'm sure I'd done more evil things, but probably have blanked them from my memory as I am really a good boy at heart.

Oh, one extra thing I thought of... I have a friend who often falls asleep when I'm driving him somwehere. Doing an emergency stop while someone is asleep in your car is great, great fun. Try it some time.
(LokiMD, Mon 17 Dec 2007, 11:25, Reply)