Bright Spark
Just remembered a "gud 'un" as they say in the Midlands.
Now my old man used to work as a welder in the days of yore, welding huge boiler tanks.
Now for those who dont know MMA welders work by passing electrical current into steel to melt (weld) it together. There are two main parts, the bit that holds the rod and a clip (kinda like a big crocodile clip). Electricity being as it is and always taking the shortest route, it is completely safe to touch the steel that your welding so long as the clip is closer to the rod than you are.
Right welding lesson over!
One of the lads, Steve we shall call him was sitting astride ("a la cowboy") a large tanker and running a seam of weld along the tank.
His friends (well ex friends now) thought it would be hilarious to distract his attention and while his attention was drawn remove said clip and place it onto the boiler tank !behind! his jeans clad ass.
Distraction over, the fastidious Steve returns to the task in hand and puts rod to steel right where he left off. Woops
He sent a lightning bolt straight through his tackle, he went a very funny shade of white and slowly (almost slo-mo) and silently slid from the side of the tank into a crumped heap on the floor. Feinted for a minute too.
After making sure he was conscious etc. We pick the poor lad from the ground and manage to convince him to inspect the damage,
His left nut is now the size of a small grapefruit and completely eclipsing the rest of his tackle as the rest had decided to go the opposite way.

Needless to say the 3 lads who moved the clip never owned up to doing it!

Steve has made a full recovery!

Apologies for length, but its a lot bigger than Steves!!!!!!!!!
(morrigan456 made sex wee on, Wed 19 Dec 2007, 13:40, 4 replies)

YTS, young, thick, stupid
The firm next door to my warehouse used to employ 16yr old lads on some sort of training scheme. They would arrive hoodie on,rock-hard, swaggering about like 16 yr-old lads do, and soon enough they would realise that my line of work is a hell of a lot more interesting than the firm employing them.

They didn't actually have a lot of work to do and after a week or two they would be hanging about the yard, coffee in hand, boasting to me about the amount of chicks they had shagged, how much beer they could drink and how skunk never affected them, they were too hard. By then they had realised their employers weren't exactly slave-drivers and that they could really do as they pleased ie. not a lot.

I would then throw a spanner in the works. A typical conversation would go thus:

Me: "Sooooo, how you enjoying the job? Any problems? Nobody's messed about with you have they?"
Kid : "Erm, what does that mean?"
Me: "Oh, nothing,forget it"
Kid : "No, what do you mean by that, what does messed about with mean?"
Me: "Well, I shouldn't really be telling you this but.........well, you know that J & L (the bosses) are gay don't you?"

Now, at this point I should say that they are gay, but don't act it. Their partners were another story though, they are a pair of screaming benders, there is no doubt about which end they bowl from.

Kid : "W-w-w-what? Whaddaya mean?"
Me: "Well, those 2 nancies that come in are their boyfriends, not clients. That's why there are no girly calendars in the office, that's why they are totally uninterested in talking about tits or the women they have shagged and stuff. You mean you didn't know?"

The penny drops then, you could actually see it in their faces. Priceless. Every single time.

Me: "Look, it's worse than that, I heard J talking when I walked past and he was going on about giving some young lad a damned good balling after getting him blind drunk. I heard your name too."

This would usually result in the youth sloping off, and mysteriously never going back to work.
On one particular occasion the young lad was excited because he had started work just before Christmas and was looking forward to taking full advantage of the staff party, he was going to get pissed as a rat.

Me: "Erm,listen mate, just don't get too pissed, you might regret it when you wake up, if you know what I mean. You'd better get some Prep H in, a Jumbo size tube."
Kid:"They wouldn't dare. I'd get all my mates to kick the shit out of them"
Me: "Rrrrright, so if you woke up in a compromising position, you'd tell all your mates about it so they could give them a kicking"
Kid: "Yeah, er, no, erm aaargh"

Fancy that, he left just before Christmas without giving any notice. The training firm kept sending down people to find out what the problem was, why the turnover was so high. J & L's firm were baffled too, one minute the kids were enjoying a cushy number, happy as larry, next minute they were being unco-operative and sullen. There was simply no explanation, it was literally as quick as that, they'd be fine, go on a coffee break, then come back totally changed. Then they would just not turn up for work.
In the end the YTS firm stopped sending kids down without giving a reason. Most perplexing.
(Rsoles, Wed 19 Dec 2007, 13:28, 4 replies)

Kind of unintentional, but hey....
A few years ago my friend Tony and I went to Wales and wandered round for a couple of weeks, camping wherever that evening found us.

One fine morning in the second week found us in Porthmadog, both of us bursting for a shit.

So we found some public toilets, and hit the cubicles for some blessed relief.

All the time we were both pooing we were continuing our conversation, and I was rolling up balls of toilet paper and throwing them over the partition onto Tony. Strangely, he never mentioned this once.

Finally, we were done. At the sinks, washing our hands I asked "Why didn't you say anything about the toilet paper I was throwing over?"

Tony replied with "What toilet paper? And why didn't you?"

Realisation dawned and we both looked round, to see that we weren't in cubicles next to each other at all, but there was in fact someone sitting very quietly in the cubicle between us.

We cracked up, and then legged it quickly without so much as a word... so apologies to that nameless person - I hope you weren't too scared.

And Tony, if you're reading this, get in touch!
(Professor Kenny Martin Hmm? What?, Wed 19 Dec 2007, 12:49, Reply)

More gas related pranks/games
An extension of the cupcake (farting in your hand and 'throwing it' at someone) is the under cover duvet bomb - simply fart under the covers while your significant other is still sleeping (sneaking it out for some reason amplifies the smell).

Then wake them up and as soon as their eyes open, smother them with the duvet.

You can play fart rodeo by timing how long you can keep the gas filled quilt over them.

My divorce should be through soon !
(three inches of snarling death, Wed 19 Dec 2007, 12:14, 4 replies)

undrinkable drink
Me and about 15 of my mates went to Magaluf in the summer for a pals Stag doo. Whilst there was the usual lad’ish banter, one Lad - john enjoyed to push the limits all the time. He always wanted to better any antics that anyone did. So for the whole holiday there was competition to out do each other.

One night we were out in BCM square - john as usual was singing louder than everyone else, drinking more than anyone, and getting up on tables and dancing... with this behavior trait in mind, my friends decided to pull a sly prank.

I had noticed my friend needed a piss, but as we were in a square packed with people, it was hard to get to a toilet. So he did the gentlemen thing and pissed in an empty cup, being shielded behind his friends so no one could see. Then Rich looks over - and gets an idea. He grabs the steaming cup – carefully, and proceeds to walk really fast with it to the nearest bar. He comes back with loads of ice in it, a cocktail umbrella and a cherry.

He stands next to John and puts - what appears to be a weak vodka rebull- to his own mouth and says in a very deliberate manner whilst wincing his face “oh, thats horrible' ….. Like fly to shit, John lunges over the table and grabs the drink.. 'give it ere'.

Now, at this point everyone BUT John knows its piss. So everyone is staring at John. What John sees is a crowd ready to witness him drinking an undrinkable drink thats been ordered from the bar... he is loving the attention... what an opportunity to ‘be better than everyone else? he thinks... So John has one look round - even shouting to grab people’s attention to those who weren’t looking. Theres girls near by saying things like - 'oh my god hes gonna drink it'... and 'thats disgusting' which spurs john on even more.... this is the holy grail of drinks he thinks... he just thinks its a shitmix off the bar...

He takes a swig... not a sip, but a mouth filler.. to the point his mouth is fit to burst.... Now, if you remember the film Dumb and dumber, you’ll remember the face of the police officer as he realises it’s not alcoholic...

He spews up there and then... to rapturous applause... John instantly clocks what’s happened. Then John being John decides to try and drink the rest.. with the same conclusion.

Sorry about the length... but it really was perfectly executed prank upon John!
(Dan dan dan They tik urh jerbs!!!, Wed 19 Dec 2007, 12:12, Reply)

Spoony magic
As students we regularly visited the £1 shops to see what bargains were on offer. On this particular day, we returned lighter by £1 and heavier by a small tube of super-glue. Many and various were the prankular opportunities of this inspired purchase, but one sticks out in my mind.

There was this guy, Felix, who occasionally came and hung around with us. He was a nice enough guy, too handsome for his own good maybe but not vain. His biggest failing was that he could be a bit naive sometimes. Ideal prank-fodder, then.

We were lounging around in someone's room when Felix came in. We'd been chatting for a while, when I noticed a plastic cup to the inside of which someone had earlier super-glued a metal spoon (so that the bowl of the spoon was halfway up the side of the cup, with the handle sticking up out of the top). I picked it up and, shielding it slightly behind my hand, I faked moving the spoon up and down on the inside of the cup. At the same time I said,

"Hey Felix, look at this. If you rub a metal spoon on the side of a plastic cup like this, it sticks." Then I took my hand away, and help up the cup-spoon marvel with a flourish. "It must be static electricity or something!"

He was amazed. So I pulled the spoon and cup apart and handed them over to him, suggesting he have a try. Oh, how we chortled to ourselves as he rubbed away unsuccessfully. Then we suggested that maybe it only worked if you did it underwater...so he dutifully filled the sink and carried on rubbing.

Eventually we couldn't contain our mirth. He stormed out of the room, quite justifiably identifying us as the shower of bastards that we most certainly were.
( reallywittyname veraciously conspues lexiphanicism on, Wed 19 Dec 2007, 11:40, Reply)

Rogering
A mate of mine had his coisin over to stay for a few weeks from France, (said coisin, Will, was English but had lived in France for many years). Having been out of touch with the joy of slang we were able to convince him that to "Roger" someone was to hit them in the face.

After a few too many light ales Will got into a shoving match with an equally pissed up bloke and the fight was just about to turn nasty when Will shouted "Fuck off or I'll fucking roger you!".

The other chap turned white and backed away while we allpissed ourselves with laughter. The best bit was that Will was convinced that he had just shown what a hard case he was and flew into a rage when we let him know what he'd said, (For Septics: To Roger someone is to take them up the arse).

Length etc.
(Falco, Wed 19 Dec 2007, 11:34, 4 replies)

bad karma
I have a tragic history of pranks going wrong. My first was the time when I positioned a bucket of water above a partially opened door so that it would spill on the teacher as he entered the room. It worked fine in the cartoons but I was surprised when the heavy zinc bucket plummeted on to the cranium of Mr Jones, cracking his skull and rendering him comatose for six weeks. When he woke, he was in a persistent vegetative state. Oops!

The next one I remember was when we decided to humiliate the school bully, Mark Cockles. He said he could 'have' anyone in a fight, and we persuaded him that there was a much harder lad in a lock-up garage near the school. Undaunted, he went into the garage saying he would come out with the other lad unconscious. Unbeknown to him, there was no other 'lad', but a trio of neo-Nazi thugs who were expecting a Jewish liberal to tell them off. Poor Mark was in hospital for three months and had to have his testicles amputated.

Then there was the time we spiked the drinks of 'Christian' Ruth at a school party. She didn't drink at all, but that didn't stop us putting some Windowlene in her lemonade. By 7.30 she was lap dancing and offering to show anyone her 'bush'. I believe she later had sex with a gang of squaddies who were drinking in a nearby pub and and ended up pregnant for her 16th birthday. The church struck her off.

However, the worst example of my trickery was when I asked an older mate to fix a bomb to the bottom of the school bus so that it would explode if it went below 50 mph. It ended up in a canal and everyone on board was killed.

Doh!
(frankspencer, Wed 19 Dec 2007, 9:46, 2 replies)

The German Open
A few years back, I was working as a labourer for my family's joinery firm. Working along with us was a tiler (Jim) and his friend who also happened to be a semi-professional darts player (for those in the know, he goes by the moniker "Pauly Boy").

One Monday, Pauly and Jim came in with ear-to-ear grins. It turned out that Pauly had just won the German Open Tournament, giving him a nice lump sum and quite a large trophy. Congratulations were given all round and we encouraged him to tell us all about it.

Pauly and Jim aren't averse to a good drink, Morgan's Spiced being a favourite tipple and, instead of telling us the tale of how he got to the final, who he beat and so on, Pauly launched straight into an altogether more macabre story.

The trophy won, Pauly and Jim went back to their hotel, a grim affair with no en-suite toilets. Instead, there was an annexe across a car park which you had to go to if you needed to micturate. In the room, Pauly and Jim continued to drink their spiced rum into the wee hours, eventually succumbing to booze-aided slumber.

The next morning, a party of organisers came to the room to say thanks and congratulate Pauly for a good tournament. The head German official, seeing that the trophy is full of frothy yellow liquid, decides he'll join in with Pauly and Jim's celebrations. "Ah," he says, "Champagne! If you don't mind..."

With that (and before Pauly or Jim could stop him) the official picks up the trophy and takes a couple of gulps to slake his thirst. I'll leave it to Pauly to tell the rest:

"No way was I going across that car park every time I needed a slash. Stupid prick picks up the cup and tans about a gallon o' spicy pish! Funny as fuck, man!"

He's right. It was funny as fuck.

(Edit: It's not strictly a prank, as it wasn't intentional, but close enough for me).
(roidoid, Wed 19 Dec 2007, 9:31, Reply)

Dad's old workplace.....
...in one of his first jobs he worked in a steelworks doing odd jobs with other workers. Everyone had a good healthy sense of humour (ie screaming "BALDIE!!!!" through the tannoy system at the foreman etc) but there was one bastard who was simply a bully. Twas the late 60's/early 70's so bullying was strife and not directly nipped in the bud by management. One of this bastards tricks was to throw his weight about at the canteen. My dad and his mates would get their dinner and sit on a table. Bastard would walk in, shout "Oih, I sit there!" and literally swipe all the metal plates off the table onto the floor. They only let him get away with this twice.

Me dad and his mates thought "fuck this for a laugh" and sneaked into the canteen early. They organised with the staff a prank, as the staff there were tired of cleaning up the food that the bastard was swiping onto the floor too. Then they played the waiting game.

In walks everyone on their lunch breaks and the bastard is there. He spies my dad and his mates munching away at the same table as before, and the bastard sees red.
"I fucking told you guys, I SIT THERE."
"Do you now?" says me dad, looking all confused.
He pushes my dad out of the way and swipes at the metal plates as hard as he could. CRUNCH. One confused look on the bastard's face as none of the plates budged and one trip to the hospital to deal with a broken arm.

Conclusion? Don't fuck off someone who can weld.
( Jeccius Steam Borderlands 2 junkie, Wed 19 Dec 2007, 9:04, Reply)

Sandwich Filling
A few years ago I was working in the city and every morning at 11am a guy would arrive selling sandwiches. One of my colleagues who to be honest ate like a horse bought a bap for his lunch. Whilst he was in a meeting, myself and another colleague carefully opened the heatsealed wrapping and inserted a teabag into the bap. We then resealed the wrapping with glue. Lunchtime came and we all watched in glee as the tea leaves dropped out of the half eaten sandwich on his first bite. Before we could do anything he was on the phone kicking off to the company who provided the sandwich. Feeling sheepish we said nothing even when he was given free sandwiches for a week in recompense.
(Celtican is 10! Old school or what?, Wed 19 Dec 2007, 8:42, Reply)

Poltergeist
I had to nip into the office during the early hours to find the nightwatchman sound asleep and snoring like a walrus. I proceeded to log into my pc and do what I needed to do and got ready to leave. Realising this was an opportunity tooooo good to miss I carefully stacked the conference room chairs in a pyramid (ala the movie Poltergeist) right next to him and then left. He was very on edge for the next few nights, whether it was due to 'paranormal activity' or the fact someone had caught him sleeping I will never know.
(Celtican is 10! Old school or what?, Wed 19 Dec 2007, 8:34, Reply)

Tip-top
As a kid a rather delightful trick was to i)fill a thin, plastic tip-top drinks carton with fresh dog shit ii)stick a banger in the top iii) light banger iv) throw sufficiently far, preferably over the heads of mate or group of mates v) roll around laughing as shit spattered mates look daggers at you.
It happened to me once but you gotta be able to take shit as well as deal shit :) (it gets fuckin' everywhere hee hee hee)
My other favourite was when I worked in a bottling plant. Some of the drinks bottles had the silver or gold wrappings around their neck. The foil comes from a nice smooth roll and its colours are a spit for gold and silver coins. Sometimes, on nightshift, a mate of mine use to take a piece of foil and make a perfect replica of coins, with great care and patience, wrapping the coin in the foil making imprints of one face and the sides of the coin and then , without creating any creases, tuck the remnants of foil underneath. It was quite an art. Then they would be placed strategically on the floor, catching the light and you'd wait for the unsuspecting victim to come walking past. They would be walking in factory automaton mode when they would spy some dropped change in a couple of pound coins, a fifty and a couple of twenties and their automaton face would register human emotion as their eyes lit up, burning off their glaze, sometimes with a quick look around, then they would stoop to pick the money up, only to have it fold and crumple under their touch which was, by now, reflected in their eyes as their face fell.

It was beautiful.

They would swear and curse, with liberal dashes of colour, at me and my mates sniggering but they couldn't help but admire the effort and genius of the prank.

Mmmm..... I don't feel complete, all to polite..... fuck, fuck, fuckety fuck.
(Dellamorte Dellamore Fuck it all, fuck it up, fuck it., Wed 19 Dec 2007, 7:35, 4 replies)

We did a prank on some girls in college.
Way back when, back in the early 80's, I attended the University of California at San Diego.
During the first week of classes, with enthusiasm for our newfound independence, we purchased lots of foodstuffs for our dorm refrigerator, and immediately made several hamburgers from the 6 pound tube of ground beef we'd purchased from the supermarket.
The tube went into one of the vegetable drawers of the fridge, and sat there, simmering, for weeks (months?).
Anyway, at some point, we noticed an odor, and decided it would be a good idea to leave this 5.1 pound lump of greenish meat on the doorstep of the dorm room of someone one of my roommates had a thing for. We did. Sans plastic outer wrap.
The next day, as we (girls included) were all walking down to the cafeteria for dinner someone (pretty sure it was me) let loose the ultra suave statement, "So... Did you find some disgusting meat on your doorstep?"
That started the war.
They retaliated by egging our door.
Pretty weak.
We retaliated by going to a liquor store across the street from the Mirimar Naval Air Station (the Top Gun place) where there was the most AMAZING selection of incredibly obscure pornography. We purchased a magazine dedicated to the appreciation of incredibly large women, and removed the centerfold (I remember her name was Ella, and she was... er... rather horrible.) We taped this centerfold to their back (sliding-glass) door. We duct-taped their front door in such a way as it couldn't open from the inside, forcing them to the rear door if they wanted to get to class.
They retaliated by breaking into our room and turning the furniture upside down. (weak).
We retaliated by making a peace offering. We took some Oreo (TM) cookies, and removed the white stuff. We replaced that with Colgate (TM) toothpaste and brought it to their dorm.

This last bit was genius, and I wish I could claim it was my idea, but, alas, it was my roommate who came up with the idea.
But it was brilliant.

(By the way.. This is my first post -- I hope it passes muster... or mustard... or something.)
(EvilMathTeacher, Wed 19 Dec 2007, 3:38, 3 replies)

The Game...
Pretty sure this is a unique one...just not a unique name.

Sometime ago (presumably while drinking) some of my friends back home came up with the game... which is simple.

Everyone who has heard of the game is now involved.

Everytime you think of "the game" you are required to contact someone else in the game.

Regardless of time or what that person may be doing.

When they answer you say "Hey, Name, I just thought about the game" then you hang up. Of course this has prompted them to think about the game and have to stay awake, not working, etc. while they call someone else and pass it along.

You are now part of the game.

Its more entertaining than it sounds...

hmm...its nearly 1am back home, guess I need to make a phone call.
(I_Live_In_Antarctica No...really...I do.www.travbuddy.com/mtfd528/blogs, Wed 19 Dec 2007, 3:26, 12 replies)

the man from ironbark
'Twas the man from Ironbark who struck the Sydney town.
He wandered over street and park, he wandered up and down.
He loitered here, he loitered there till he was like to drop.
Untill at last in sheer despair he sought a barbers shop.
"ere, shave my beard and whiskers off, ill be a man of mark.
I'll go and do the Sydney toff, up home in Ironbark".
The barber man was short and flash, as barbers mostly are.
He wore a strike-your-fancy sash, he smoked a big cigar.
He was a humorist of note, and keen at repartee.
He laid the odds and kept a tote, whatever that may be.
And when he saw our friend arrive, he whispered "heres a lark",
"just watch me catch him all alive, this man from Ironbark"
There were some gilded youths that sat along the barbers wall.
Their eyes were dull, their heads were flat, they had no brains at all.
To them the barber passed a wink, his dexter eyelid shut.
"I'll make this bloomin' yokel think his bloomin' throat is cut!"
And as he soaped and rubbed it in, he made the rude remark:
"i spose the flats are pretty green, up there in iron bark!"
a grunt was all reply he got. he shaved the bushman's chin,
then made the water boiling hot, and dipped the razor in.
He raised his hand,his brow grew black,he paused a while to gloat
Then slashed that red hot razorback across his victims throat.
Upon the newly shaven skin, it made a livid mark,
no doubt it fairly took him in, this man from iron bark.
He fetched a wild up country yell, might wake the dead to hear,
and though his throat he know full well was cut from ear to ear,
he struggled gamely to his feet to face his murderous foe.
"Youve done for me, you dog. im beat. one hit before i go!".
He lifted up a hairy paw and one tremendous clout
he landed on the barbers chin and knocked the barber out.
then set to work with nail and tooth to make the place a wreck.
he grabbed the nearest guilded youth and tried to break his neck.
And all the while he held his throat to save his vital spark,
and MURDER! BLOODY MURDER! yelled the man from Ironbark.
A peerler man who heard the din came in to see the show,
he tried to run the bushman in, but he refused to go.
And when at last the barber spoke, he said " 'twas all in fun!
just a little harmless joke, a trifle overdone".
"A JOKE!" he cried "by George that's fine. a lively sort of lark!"
I'd like to catch that murderous swine one night in ironbark"
And now around the shearers floor the listening shearers gape.
he tells the story over and over and brags of his escape.
"them barber men what keep the tote, by George I've had enough"
"one tried to cut me bloomin' throat, i thank the lord its tough!"
and wether he's believed or no theres one thing to remark,
that flowing beards are all the go way up in Ironbark.
(lazy killer robot found that beer tastes better when your older, Wed 19 Dec 2007, 2:24, 1 reply)

More thieving students
In my second year at uni, I rented a house in the middle of nowhere with three friends (including the orange juice thief). Living so far from anywhere has its advantages - ridiculously cheap rent, no noisy neighbours, etc. - but a couple of major downsides; in particular the large amount of countryside between you and civilisation.

Two of my housemates had cars, so getting to and fro wasn't difficult, but it made nights out a bit tricky - either someone had to stay sober, or it was a long walk.

Fortunately we had friends in town, so quite often we'd head to theirs first for a few cans, then out to the pub, and crash on their sofas after closing.

After bringing a load of cider along one evening, one of my group was rather annoyed to find that someone in our hosts' house had drunk the lot. He was not best pleased, and felt vengeance was in order - our hosts found his annoyance very entertaining though. He purchased the classiest-looking bottle of cider he could find, and very carefully removed the lid, leaving the little metal ring intact. We drank the cider, and between the four of us we refilled it with piss, resealed it, and chilled it to perfection.

When we headed into town on the Friday night he left it by his chair and wandered off for a few minutes - in the meantime our hosts unsubtly spirited the bottle out of the lounge, returning it a few moments later, now filled with suspiciously clear 'cider'. We managed to keep straight faces, and finally owned up a couple of hours later.

Apparently they'd emptied the (quite large) bottle into every clean mug, glass and pan they could find, though sadly only of of them had actually drunk any.
(Photon wasting your time since, Wed 19 Dec 2007, 2:18, Reply)

Grapefruit juice
During my first few weeks in halls in uni, I gradually became aware that items left our shared fridge were possibly considered communal property , and were being devoured at an alarming rate. As there were 22 people sharing one fridge, identifying the perpetrator was not easy - everyone swore blind they weren't nicking others' stuff.

In particular, I couldn't leave orange juice in the fridge without someone else emptying it - as my culinary skills were virtually non-existent, orange juice represented almost all of my fruit/vegetable intake, so with scurvy a real possibility steps had to be taken.

I took a freshly opened carton of orange juice and dissolved a good half pound of salt in it. The vitamin thief identified themselves within the hour - there was a strangled sort of retching noise, swiftly followed by a torrent of insults directed at me.

Apparently he'd poured himself a large glass and taken a swig, and immediately realised it was very, very un-orange-like.

"Ah, must be grapefruit juice", he thought, and drained the glass - apparently felt sick for days.
(Photon wasting your time since, Wed 19 Dec 2007, 2:00, 3 replies)

Oh! and Goatpod
I still remember the day U and Phill nearly let me go home with 666 on one cheek, a swastika on the other. and I LOVE GAY SEX on my forehead in permanent marker.

Not that I hold grudge...
(poonss ...howlingspoons, Wed 19 Dec 2007, 1:10, Reply)

It was me who was pranked
Many moons ago I worked for a mortgage company cold calling people. (yes I have my ticket to Hull booked)

I got one particular sheet and did the normal speel expecting a knock back, but no Mr J was interested.

I explained what we could do, or I nearly did.

His nipper was crying, his wife was out. Could I ring back in a couple of nights time.

No probs. Call back booked.

Rang back at the allloted time, cut to the quick. He remembers me, sound. Start the speel. Oh the take away has just arrived. Can I call back.

I smell a sale. I agree.

I rang this couple 3 times a week for 3 and half months. Spoke to Mr and Mrs J or sometimes baby sitter (who sounded suspiciously like Mrs J) everytime a new excuse.

I had to keep copious notes and they never used the same excuse twice. It became a joy to ring them for a new excuse :

pizza in oven burning
washing machine flooding kitchen
and on and on

It became a battle of wills. Not once did they re-use an excuse. On my last night I rang them and congratulated them on their ingenuity, and told them I had wiped any details of them from the records so they could start again.

They laughed heartily and as far as I know are still scamming the same bunch of cold callers.

Evil? Evil genius I'd say.
(poonss ...howlingspoons, Wed 19 Dec 2007, 0:59, Reply)

Timmy
Another prank I remember was writing 'Timmy' on the forehead of my mate Tim. When he was asleep. This was when the character had just been introduced to South park. I removed all the mirrors from the flat, he went out to get food in the morning and woundered why some kids had shouted Timmy at him and run away. Not a very evil prank I'll admit.
( BindiBaji, Wed 19 Dec 2007, 0:55, Reply)

Salt
A friend of mine was always playing pranks on people when they fell asleep, including me. He had the ability never to fall asleep, until one night he let his guard slip.

So having fallen asleep with his mouth slighty open we got the salt cellar from the kitchen and poured a small amount into his mouth. This caused him to reposition himself now with his mouth wide open. So more salt was poured in until he woke up and ran to the bathroom, slighty miffed.
( BindiBaji, Tue 18 Dec 2007, 23:51, Reply)

In Darkest Dresden
Edit: Here's the original story as told by my brother here on B3ta 2 years ago.

Cheers



Many moons ago I was a loyal servant of the Queen (Gawd Bless ‘Er), a fearless fighting soldier holding the borders of Germany against the menace of the Slavic Horde. Every year we were sent out into the countryside to lurk in the bushes, waiting for Ivan to come storming through the Fulda Gap, massed tank divisions of the Red Army poised to cut a bloody path to the Rhine. Every exercise season my unit lurked in the forests on Minden Ridge, passing the time away in time honoured tradition, eg, bullying new recruits, winding up officers and stealing each other’s turds.

Yep, that’s right, stealing turds. There are no toilets deep in the forest, and before the arrival of German contractors with their portaloos the solution was to grab a shovel, wander off into the bushes, dig a little hole, crap into it, then tidily fill it in before groping your way back to the tank laagers.

All the old soldiers took great delight in winding up the new boys. We used to warn them of the dangers of the deep German forests, strange animals that hid in the undergrowth, so starving they would eat the shit out of your arse before it hit the ground. Then ply them with illicit lager, crates of Herforder Pils hidden strategically in the ammunition lockers, topped up with bottles of Apple Korn and Jagermeister which all good squaddies have stashed away. Eventually one of these lads would stand up and fart, grab a shovel, and stumble off into the darkness….and the hunt was on!!!!

We would take our own shovel and follow, using our superior fieldcraft skills to silently creep up on the unsuspecting rookie, waiting for him to dig his hole, drop his trousers and squat over to drop his lot. Then snake forward, quietly reach forward with the shovel, place it strategically to catch whatever came out, then quietly withdraw with the spoils. There’s not a man alive who doesn’t turn to inspect his turds after crapping in the forest. But on looking into the hole, there’s a severe lack of evidence, even though he knows he’s just unloaded a good kilo of crap somewhere. So where the fuck is it?

The hardest part is not to laugh when watching this dickhead searching for his missing turds. The red-screened torch would come on, he’d pat the grass with his hands, walk in ever-increasing circles, then start flailing the bushes with his shovel. ‘Get out of it, you little shit-eating bastards!! Where the fuck are you?’ At this point we would fade silently into the background and leg it back to the camp, so by the time he found his way back we would be sitting quietly as before. As he excitedly poured out his story we would all look serious, wonder aloud about ‘Spetsnaz Infiltrators’, then get him to repeat his story ad infinitum, each repetition growing in detail about ‘noises in the bushes’, or ‘something moving in the shadows. Or even, God Save us, ‘a strange smell of corrupt flesh’. The more gullible among them could even be induced to write up an official ‘Contact Report’.

Guarding the West against the Red Menace that never so much fun again.

All true, as God is my witness.
( Legless Mister Stabby - shanks for the memory, Tue 18 Dec 2007, 23:34, 6 replies)

As a student, naturally...
...clingfilm over the showerhead. I did it to my neighbour in halls, who apparently thought turning up the hot water WITH pressure would fix 'the blockage'.

Cue screaming that was heard through the whole flat, and one soggy, steaming and slightly miffed student standing in the corridor demanding that someone owned up. I never did. I hated her anyway.
(Stegosaurus Shaped Pencil Top, Tue 18 Dec 2007, 23:06, Reply)

Not the most original prank in the world
But I was tickled slightly by the denouement.

Years ago, as a mightily be-quiffed student, residing in halls, a mate took it upon himself to empty my room after I had naively given him my room key so he could 'borrow a tape I had as he wanted to copy it' (yes this was pre CD days).

After half an hour, and he still hadn't returned, I got suspicious (the time passing hadn't registered as I was too busy playing pool with my then-girlfriend).

Upstairs I went, and noticed the kitchen door wideopen, with my entire room contents arranged perfectly, bar one item.

'Twat' I muttered, more in annoyance at my own naivety than anything else.

I padded to my room, opened the door, and spotted my stereo on the floor, looking forlorn with a note taped to it that read 'press play'. I did.

The song that emanated forth was 'In my room' by Yazoo. Nice touch.
( Davros' Granddad a voice of calm reason in a world of spastics., Tue 18 Dec 2007, 23:05, Reply)

When I was younger
We took a camping trip to Porthcawl in Wales.

I was the second youngest on this trip aged 16 at the time, but the youngest, Neil, also 16 looked about 13 and so was a bit of a barrier to getting into night clubs and pubs. Also having led a sheltered life, he was prone to copying the behaviour of the older lads in order to "look cool".

This caused a lot of frustration among the older members who were determined to give him the message that imitation was not the sincerest form of flattery.

We camped quite close to the beach and as it was a warm week in August, we all decided to go for a paddle. This was a busy family beach, with many children, and we were respectful of that, only swearing every other word.

Whilst in the sea, we put our plan into action. "Who's up for skinny dipping?" went the cry. We waded in up to our chests, and proceeded to remove our trunks and throw them back to our non swimming pal on the shore. Having seen this Neil removed his shorts and threw them to our pal too.

However, earlier in the day, we had all been primed to wear 2 pairs of trunks, and so when we then decided to head for shore, Neil realised he'd been had, and was forced to do the dance of the naked-man-cupping-his-balls all the way up the beach to our camp site.

I lost touch , but I think he's a policeman now...
( Roland E O'Dorant R Tape loading error, 0:1, Tue 18 Dec 2007, 23:01, Reply)

More of a backfire than anything else
So there was that girl in school who was terribly annoying but desperate to be liked and to be thought of as cool. Naturally being cruel teenagers we took advantage of this.

There was a rather large cupboard in our home classroom and we persuaded her to jump out of it at the most notorious bastard of a latin teacher that you've ever met, in the hopes that the bollocking he gave her would amuse us.

He arrived into the classroom promptly and sat at his desk glaring around at the sheepishly amused faces. Upon hearing our foolish victim's poorly stifled giggles coming from the cupboard he strode over to it...as we awaited the inevitable shout fest he picked up a hockey stick...now we thought this would be good...and slid it through the handles of the cupboard door locking her in.

He then relocated the class to another room.
We arrived back into the classroom an hour and a half later (double class) to the sound of quiet sobbing.

I haven't quite forgiven myself for that one yet but it does make me laugh.
(WhitieMcPaleface, Tue 18 Dec 2007, 22:53, Reply)

Remote Control Watch
First week in Halls and the resident attention whore starts telling people that there's been poltergeist activity in her room. A spoon had been seen on the floor and then later it was on the bed or something equally unexplainable. Anyway, she continues to make these claims whilst I was having a cuppa with her in her room. Feeling like a wind-up I switched her telly on with my the remote control on my Casio watch (only about £40 a worth every penny). Having blatantly made up the spoon prank she starts to panic after the telly swithces itself back on, has problems with the volume and starts changing channels. Now, this only happens when i'm in the room but this correlation didn't seem to matter to her one-track mind. She then invited as many people who could fit into her room to witness the spectacle as she barked out commands to obedient television. She even used her mind to speak to the ghost by imagining what channel she wanted it to change to. I picked one at random and she declared to the room that she had indeed thought of that one. One of the more-fragile-minded international students from Greece left the room and ran down the hall yelling. I then revealed my watch to everyone and noted how I was suddenly the hero and Mrs Attention Whore was the twat. I can't help thinking that she was wrong in not speaking to me for the rest of term. I made her the talk of the halls which is essentially what she wanted.
( Fray Brentos *mega-belms*, Tue 18 Dec 2007, 22:04, 2 replies)

Hotmail pranksters
A girl who we used to work with started getting e-mails from a guy she used to fancy after he'd left to go travelling. However, she was fat and ugly and he was always fighting the women off. Anyone else would have smelled a rat but not her. Little did she know that the e-mails from Bangkok declaring his love for her were actually being sent from my computer 2 metres away. She fell for it hook line and sinker. But then a lot of other people did too so me and my co-conspirator started inventing more and more unbelievable stories and adventures for the guys as he 'made his way through Asia'. Lots of fun but I think we gave the fat girl a bit of a confidence crisis and nervous breakdown when we got busted. Hahahahahahahahahahaha. Aha...aha...a-hahahahaahahaha. What was I laughing about again? Oh yes, that fat girl with the mental breakdown...ahahahahahaha...etc

That was more than enough to sate my amusement but then we added some other twists and turn's for "Rob's" journey like putting him in an episode of Neighbours (which one of the thickest girls in the world we worked with believed and didn't miss an episode of neighbours for about 6 months), getting him mixed up with a cult in New Zealand and then finally killing him off in a typhoon somewhere in Indo-china trying to swim to an island.
( Fray Brentos *mega-belms*, Tue 18 Dec 2007, 21:22, 3 replies)