Spit the winkle
An Aussie mate of mine used to play cricket at the weekends. When his side were called to field he would regularly slip behind the clubhouse and locate the hoses used to water the playing field. Dropping his kecks he'd carefully insert the hose into his ringer and gently turn on the tap, thus filling his poo tube with water. Trousers back up and onto the field of play he'd adopt a crouching position as if ready to commence play. At the opportune moment he would then drop his pants and squeeze hard squirting a fountain of shitty water across the field of play, hitting anyone who happened to be in it's path. Apparently with practice he could achieve quite a distance.
This came to be known as "spitting the winkle", and needless to say he got a few kickings for it. Didn't stop him doing it though, strangely.
(mcgriffto, Thu 13 Dec 2007, 16:34, 5 replies)

Laxative sugar cubes
Way back when (ok, so 5 years ago) when I was in year 10 at school (gosh time flies), it was a biology lesson, and we were making ethanol/alcohol, and as you know, yeast needs sugar to work, now to avoid us eating the sugar cubes, (because as we know, all schoolkids love sugar), the school used the ones that have laxatives in them for the old people who can't shit.

There was a kid in our class, who was the butt of all jokes, although in fairness he complained too much, and blamed everything on me (including blaming someone throwing a pen at him on me, when I was on holiday in Scotland hahah!), so he had this coming...

we sneakily pocketed some of the sugar cubes and at lunch time put them into his drink. Three hours later, just seeing him leap out of his chair and try to calmly excuse himself to go to the toilet, and then leg it down the hallway was fantastic.

He came back with a bright red face, ahh, good times, good times
(Multi-Coloured Pop Shop "twat with a ukulele", Thu 13 Dec 2007, 16:30, 4 replies)

Shortly after moving in to our halls...
A prank war began between pretty much all of the guys in the block. No sides just a free for all. A prank melee if you will

It ended when after everything in one guys room was turned upside down. He did not take it well.

Not like it was anything major is it? Its alright to put peoples clothes in the freezer but for some reason turning all your shit upside down is out of order.

Just to clarify nothing was damaged at all and the room was a mess anyway.
Prank war ended in case of offending anyone else.

Click if you think you'd have taken it like a man
(Monkeyofspong, Thu 13 Dec 2007, 16:28, 2 replies)

This was a group effort...
As I have previously mentioned (just last week in fact), as a student of drawing and graphics and all that shit, I house/flat shared for a couple of years.

The first house share was with a couple of good blokes, Rob and Phil, who I’d got to know the previous year, and our dwelling was a regular open house. There would invariably be some shapeless lump huddled under a spare duvet on the couch each morning, an innocent victim of our ‘hospitality’ the night before. One such regular visitor was Gaz (actually, he was so regular he probably should have been paying rent. But I digress).

At a certain point of the year, a fortnight’s work experience was organised for some students. Rob and I, who were doing the same course albeit a year apart, were both scheduled in for such a session, but a few weeks apart. It was Rob’s fortnight, and because he had to get into Newcastle before 9am, got into the habit of going to bed early (i.e. before midnight) so he could be up and catch the 7am bus into town. He had to get up early because the traffic at that time of the morning was so bad it took about 90 minutes to complete what should be a 50 minute journey tops, and there were no bus lanes in those days.

One evening, after we’d been to the pub with Gaz and another lad, Simon, Rob declared he was heading off for some shut-eye, reasoning that the 5 pints he’d had would send him off to sleep no problem. Now, we were all a bit merry that night, and Phil’s room was next to Rob’s. Our devious drunken minds began to hatch a plan as we huddled on Phil’s floor against the radiator. We waited until we heard the dulcet snoring coming from Rob’s room and then set our plan in motion. Waiting about an hour, we crept into his room (quite how 4 extremely spackered teenagers can creep into anyone’s room without waking them I’ll never know, but we did), and, in between trying desperately not to burst into fits of drunken giggles, altered Rob’s alarm clock so that it read 05:50.

During this fortnight, Rob had been setting his alarm clock for 6 am…

We shuffled back into Phil’s room, took our positions against the radiator and waited, stifling the giggles that threatened to spew forth. It was possibly the longest 10 minutes ever…

Six a.m., and off goes the alarm. We heard Rob mumble something along the lines of “Eeeerrrghhchristisitmorningalreadyfuckinhellifeellikeshitwhatwasidrinking”. We heard the alarm topple over as he tried half heartedly to find it in the dark. We heard the duvet being thrown back, and the sound of footsteps padding across the landing towards the bathroom. We heard the shower being switched on… and we could contain ourselves no more, collapsing against each other in helpless mirth at our stupendous prank.

Thirty seconds later Rob stuck his head around the door.

“Bastards”, was all he could muster himself to say, before turning on his heel and heading back into his room.

Thirty seconds later he popped his head around the door again, flashed his infectious grin and gave a thumbs up sign. Five minutes later he was snoring gently and peacefully once more.

He did say the next day that he thought something was amiss, as it was summer yet when he got up at ‘6 a.m.’ it was still pitch black… top bloke, wish I knew where he was now.
( Davros' Granddad a voice of calm reason in a world of spastics., Thu 13 Dec 2007, 16:23, 1 reply)

Details have been changed to protect the guilty
Not me, but I’ll tell you the tale anyway.

Many years ago, the British Army were issued new rifles. Gone were the old SLR ‘Elephant Guns’ and in came the shiny new SA80 plastic things. Not the most reliable bit of kit in the world, but that’s another tale. So the rifles are now largely plastic to look at as most of the barrel is hidden. Some years later....

Going on exercise means getting cold, wet and muddy. So at some point you have to get your kit cleaned before you are allowed to piss off after your weekend exercise.

Now a certain genius in this unit reasoned thus: “I will buy one of the AirSoft SA80 jobbies that weighs a fraction of the real thing, but looks identical, carry it around all weekend on this non-firing exercise, and then I can hand my unused completely clean weapon back into the armoury and leg it”.

Cunning stunt eh? Easy weekend and early knock-off.

Now there was in this unit an NCO who apparently was of the opinion that our hero was not his favourite soldier. On his case all the time for the slightest of infractions, in fact he was pretty much universally disliked by the ranks.

Post exercise, he is necking a relaxing pint in the Mess when our hero bursts in with his apparently loaded SA80 screaming “you’re going to die you bastard!”

The NCO then spends approx 5 minutes literally begging for his life as our crazed hero points the weapon between his eyes.

The assembled throng is silent, convinced that any second the room will be decorated in Dulux Brainmatter Emulsion.

Finally our hero gently squeezes the trigger, slowly taking up the pressure while maintaining demented eye contact with the doomed NCO….





“Ping”


A small orange plastic BB bounces off his forehead.

This is not an advisable route to promotion.
(osok Rebel without a clue, Thu 13 Dec 2007, 16:23, 6 replies)

The Who Bird
has reminded me of this one

in halls, my floor (all guys) and the floor above (all girls) had a bit of a prank war going on. I say it was a war, but it was more like us pulling pranks and them doing stupid things like putting loads of salt in the sugar of someone unrelated to the war....

One particularly incident revolved around the song "Build me up buttercup" which they played almost incessantly.

One of our number had been seeing one of the girls from the floor above and had got her room key while she was away for the weekend.

Using this opportunity we snuck into her room and set the aforementioned song to play at full volume on the stereo at 6:30 in the morning.

as everyone knows, if students wake up before 10am they turn to stone, then dust, then a strange porridge-like substance, then a slug.

Unfortunately, the main targets of our prank slept through the hideous racket, and it awoke the two people who had nothing to do with it....

Sorry Grace and Antonia!
( Vipros. clever got me this far, then tricky got me in, Thu 13 Dec 2007, 16:20, 8 replies)

Not me but a mate
Found an old wallet in a car he was fixing at work, no money in it, just the usual random shite we all collect.

Some prankster at his garage decided to affix it to the pavement via a six-inch nail with the head hidden inside. Apparently plenty of guffaws were shared through watching old folks trying to pick it up and starting arguments over ownership with would-be finders.
(Greencloud Wanted to go fishing on, Thu 13 Dec 2007, 16:19, Reply)

Sarah...
I have a few stories.

Where to begin?

Lets start with Sarah. Sarah is awesome (both physically and personality, no, i'm not posting a picture, direty b3tards), I love the girl to death. We are always trying to play jokes on each other.

I'm at work when I get a call from Sarah. We are talking casually, and she mentions she has a friend over from Wales . After a few mins of idle chit-chat, she asks me to check the lottery results on the t'wonderfulworldwideinterweb.

"Sure" says I....Thinking quickly, I very casually I say "So what numbers have you played". As she is reading out the 6 numbers I scribble them down, buying time with "my PC is being really slow, sorry about this"...... "no worries, I've got 6, 28, 39, 40, 12, 18"

A few seconds late I have the real numbers up on screen and her numbers scrawled down.

"The screen has just loaded, is you ready?" Says moi. "The numbers are...." and then read her numbers back to her in a different order...

"the numbers are..." I begin...
"5, 8, 3...oops sorry thats last week, hold on...ah...I have the real numbers here, ready?... 12, 6, 28, 40, 39, 18...."

A moment passes and Sarah screams the house down, my collegues can hear the very distinctive high pitched yell of a girl who sounds like...well...sounds like they have just won the lottery!

*more screaming, cheers and whooping...this time with added Welsh screaming and whooping*

By this time Sarah is stupidly happy. Then all of a sudden she blurts out...."ARE YOU LYING"...I almost couldnt say yes through the tears and laughter....!
(drain_bamaged, Thu 13 Dec 2007, 16:16, Reply)

it was just a game maddy,
involving a polythene bag.
sorry.
mum and dad.
(Bear Pookie The Frankly Challenged. Halloween is coming to town., Thu 13 Dec 2007, 16:15, Reply)

Those were the days
When I was in my first year at uni, rather than being in traditional "long corridor" halls, we were put into flats with 6 bedrooms and a shared living area. In ours there was myself, another 3 girls and 2 boys, and there was a bit of a war of the sexes going on, which resulted in the near deafening of one of the boys one night when we rung him up using the internal phone system the university had generously provided and blasted the shiny new rape alarm that I'd been given at the Freshers Fair at him.
(The Who Bird is eating Jaffa Cakes on, Thu 13 Dec 2007, 16:13, Reply)

I made...
...the cupboards in my mates house all hinge the opposite way.

It was a pig of a job but definitely well worth it. Same applied with the fridge door too.

We didn't speak for a while.
( The Pollitt chooses to listen to Enya on, Thu 13 Dec 2007, 16:12, Reply)

reminiscent of the last QOTW
My dad had a strange sense of humour. Once, we were all watching TV downstairs and he was upstairs talking to the cat. We could hear him taking such shite as: "Would you like to fly? Would you like to be a bird? Do you think you could fly down the stairs? Here, let's try..."

Then there was a series of thuds down the stairs and we all rushed out of the living room expecting to see the cat concussed at the bottom. But there was only the slipper he had thrown - and my dad pissing himself with the cat in his arms.
(frankspencer, Thu 13 Dec 2007, 16:04, 1 reply)

Waterpark
On holiday with my mates this year, cracking time and some funny funny memories.

There were 6 of us in total, and we decided at the start of our 2 weeks that we'd book and pay up for a few excursion type things, you know, typical holiday stuff. One of which was to go to the local waterpark.

Anyway, we end up on our way to this Turkish waterpark, and my mate Mark decides to tell us he can't swim. Never had his head under the water in all his life. The rest of us in our minds are all thinking the same thing, "we must learn him good and proper".

Cue a few hours later, loads of dangerous sliding later, loads of sunburn later, we convince Mark to come down one of the "safer" flumes with us, it was a 2-man one where you sat on a dingy and flew down dark tunnels and stuff. We tell him, "its fine mark, theres no way you're gonna fall out at the end into the water, its fine".

We waited at the bottom for him.

I have never laughed so hard in all my life.

He was sat on the back of the dingy and another of the holidaymakers, Kylie, was sat on the front. As soon as the boat touches the water at the bottom, the physics of Mark being heavier than Kylie came into effect and things went mental. Mark came flying catapulting off the back of the boat, flying a good 10 feet in the air, and I tell you the look on his face will stay with me til i die. He ended up going under the (fairly shallow) water, and then the panic set in.

Lifeguard jumped in and pulled him out, he was all shaky and pale for about half an hour.

He still hasnt forgiven us for that.

"Safer" ride my arse.
( Goon, Thu 13 Dec 2007, 16:01, Reply)

Evil father related tomfoolery
My Dad is a notorious prankster and takes no prisoners when it comes to sadistic japes in the workplace. Oddly enough, he suffers total sense of humour failure when the tables are turned though. I digress.

Back in the 70s, he was working in a drawing office for a large engineering company in Tottenham Court Road, designing bits of oil rigs. The draughtsmen were a real mixed bunch who knew how to play hard, so a new manager was hired to ensure the job was done with the minimum of distraction.

One afternoon, this manager's secretary was asked to go out and purchase some pile ointment, as the chap's Badminton Horse Trials were giving him some gyp. This piece of information was invaluable to the rest of the staff, who realised why the manager was encumbered with such a distinctive walk.

The japery did not stop at Rockford Files esque jokes in the office however. One morning, said manager was called up to a board meeting.

His office drawer was picked open with a paperclip and the tube of Anusol was removed. The tube itself was emptied out by uncrinkling the folded end and the soothing bum ointment was poured into the sink. A second tube was produced and the contents squeezed into the Anusol, which was then resealed in the office drawer and locked away safely.

An hour later, the manager appears briefly in the office, is seen to retrieve something from his locked desk drawer and disappears in the direction of the gents...

3.... 2.... 1....

A barely audible noise was heard coming from the toilets, that sounded suspiciously like a muffled "GaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAaaaahhhhhhhhhhh!".

Twenty minutes later the bloke emerged from the karzy with a reddened complexion and a sweaty brow. He was shuffling with a distinct mincing movement, pausing every now and again to clutch at his tortured Lever Arch Files with a pained expression on his face when he assumed noone was looking.

Turned out my evil father had refilled the Anusol with Sloans Heat Rub.
(Bicycle Repairman "you're also a bit of a wanker", Thu 13 Dec 2007, 15:54, Reply)

After a night out
at uni, I came home to find my housemate asleep on the sofa, head tilted back, mouth open, classic drunk.

Rather than opting for the traditional teabagging, i choose to retrieve the uber hot 'Dave's chilli sauce' which unless you have a mouth made of asbestos, renders food inedible such was it's strength.

I dabbed a few drops around his mouth and stood back to await the results. He woke, looked rather puzzled why he had woken and then realized his mouth was on fire. I gave the game away by standing in the kitchen pissing myself laughing, as he ran to the fridge to drink milk to cool his mouth. Stupidly he then threw the milk at me, coating the room but also wasting the precious liquid that could cool his mouth.

Good times
( Moonraker isn't the droid you were looking for, Thu 13 Dec 2007, 15:53, 6 replies)

Thanks Greencloud, reminded me of another =p
When I was in primary school, aged about 11, we had this crappy school fair thing. So I asked my mom to do a bit of baking for it.

She couldn't understand why I'd asked her as she knew I hated the place.

Anyways, she starts baking these chocolate covered corn-flake buns. But, she had forgot to buy baking chocolate. She asked me to pop to the shop for some. So I went out and bought some laxative chocolate bars.

The expression on her face when I told her to use them was priceless.

There was nearly no one at school for the next few days and no one suspected a thing.
( Hokerou, Thu 13 Dec 2007, 15:53, Reply)

B3tan bastards
When I was a relative newbie round here, I got suckered by the "click I like this if you want to hear more / see pictures / claim your free prize / if you vaguely agree with my point of view" line.

What a fool I felt in hindsight when I realised that it was another desperate prank by people with (usually) shite stories to try and get people to vote for their story to make it to the "Best Of" page.

I felt used and violated for a while, but then came up with my own rule that i would never click a story (no matter how good it was) if the author signed off with "click i like this if....."

Let me urge all fellow readers out there not to be suckered in by this cunning ruse.
(brocky, Thu 13 Dec 2007, 15:49, 5 replies)

Bars of Margerine
On the roof of my neighbour's car.
Simple, effective, and vindaloo to the local Pigeons.
(Mark3y needs to put some welly in to it, Thu 13 Dec 2007, 15:49, 2 replies)

Lactulose (sp?)
My mother 'apparently' had some kind of bother with her shit-chute, hence the arrival of a litre-bottle of the above liquid laxative in the bathroom cabinet.
This stuff was probably the most easily concealed laxative spike ever invented. A sugary syrup that dissolved into pretty much anything leaving no discernable after-taste besides the inherhent sweetness.

Our uncle John spent a few weeks at our house doing some building work. John thought he was a funny fella and would often be wise-cracking and piss-taking with us (we were early to mid teens then. You should be careful around teenage boys with laxatives and mischief in mind). As it was summer and the weather quite hot, lots of water / juice / pop was being drunk. One afternoon, John was hinting heavily for someone to get him a drink, so off trots my brother. He returned with a half-full lemonade bottle and handed it to John, apologising for it being flat, but it was all we had until mum had been to the shop. John swigged the whole lot, as only a thirsty builder can and my brother developed a smirk but said nothing.

We hung around for almost half an hour, pretending to be interested in what he was doing / stories he was telling then he made to climb a step-ladder and stopped short with one foot on the bottom step. "Oh my God.." he said with an expression of someone learning of a death in the family, and waddled off in a funny sort of quasi-mincing shuffle, obviously clenching furiously. We heard a couple of "oh no"'s on is way up the stairs, but had to leave the house at that point to save us being rumbled by our furious laughter.

I only found out later that night that my brother had put about quarter of the bottle into the litre of lemonade. Anyone we made tea or coffee for received a good six or eight spoonfuls in lieu of sugar for quite some time but, sadly, we never achieved comparable results to those from uncle John.
(Greencloud Wanted to go fishing on, Thu 13 Dec 2007, 15:47, 1 reply)

I put an eye in my dad's cup of coffee...
Turns out they sink, so he didn't find it until he was more than half way through, and felt something bump against his lip. It's not a great prank, but I'm a fan of simplicity.

Like wise; if you ever come accross a mate scuba diving, who thinks he's by himself, grab his leg really hard. Lots of bubbles from both ends.
( Ring Of Fire A petty, drooling belming butthurt retard., Thu 13 Dec 2007, 15:44, 1 reply)

Ah, The Revolution reminded me of this one.
I have always loved Ferrero Rochers. My mom used to get me a big box ever year at Chistmas, and I mean a fucking huge box.

Anyways, one Christmas, I got my usual. To my surprise, my little brothers (Twins, the bastards) also got a big box of em.

Being the greedy twunt I am, I ate all mine before the day was over. So, I asked one of the tweebs if I could have one. The dumb fuck said no. Then again, you can't blame them. My reputation as a prankster didn't get much outside my school.

So I figured I'd be a twat and my mom had these little bath ball things that looked like Ferrero Rochers.

I grabbed the entire box of them and ate the equivalent of my brothers choccies (About 20) Then, wrapped the bath balls in the Ferrero Rocher wrappers and left them.

The thing is, they look and smell like chocolate and what's retarded is that he ate about 10 of them before he noticed something was wrong.

He was sick and had diarrhea. I was smug as fuck.

Length? He projectile vomited about a metre.
( Hokerou, Thu 13 Dec 2007, 15:44, 1 reply)

I am evil and reckon ive got dibs on a penthouse in hell
Not so much a prank but just evil, This is my first post too so be nice. A few years back I had the misfortune of dating an emo girl a couple of years my junior, she was still at college while i was taking my first tentative steps into the working world. It was our first christmas as a couple and i was looking forward to the gift exchanging, getting wasted with her college mates and generally having a good one.

Christmas eve has always been a great laugh as the lads play golf, go for lunch then get shit faced all day so I had been over the moon when she had said she was going to a party with her college friends it was the easiest pink pass ever. Cue christmas day at home with the family, make the christmas day phone call and get cut off, try again before lunch get cut off again, a little bit pissed off i leave a pleasant but slightly off voice mail exclaiming best wishes etc etc and asking for a call back, finally get a phone call later that night and i know immediately something is wrong, turns out she slept with a guy on her course that night. Now i reacted badly and told her to feck off out of my life forever and do the classic, delete all contact , number, email, etc etc. (sorry about the length nearly there)

A week passes no contact me thoroughly depressed and miserable and understandably massively angry. We get to New years day and I'm more positive, happy even but STILL THOROUGHLY PISSED OFF!!! My phone rings, number not stored but vaguely familiar, dickhead here picks it up,

"hello?"
"hey its me!" sobbing !
"what do you want i dont want to speak to you!"

now it turns out her dad had got wasted NYE and been in a crash and had died. Now your usual nice guy would have been sympathetic, but as im sure you will learn with future posts, im a bastard when i have been wronged. To my eternal shame I picked up the yellow pages tore the pages out with Funeral Directors on and put in an envelope and posted it to her. The worst prank ever, well i say prank twas just pure evil, surprisingly never heard from her again...... oh and once at boarding school me and my mate locked a notorious gay 6th former in his study and slid female pornoes under the door meanwhile shouting that we were going to cure him! southern baptist accents were assumed for that one.

Length = hoping for a little let off it being my first post and all!
(drew pea great minds like a think!, Thu 13 Dec 2007, 15:36, 8 replies)

Bedwetter
There was a young boy in our Cub group who often wet the bed and so the Cub leaders took extra special care of him and told us to be considerate.

We waited till early morning and shone red lights in his eyes shouting 'You're in Hell! You're in Heeeeeell!!!'

Is this bullying?
(Waspard has your wank bank account details, Thu 13 Dec 2007, 15:36, 1 reply)

When I was young
I was REALLY scared of the sound when people mess around on keyboards and press all the different keys, when done slowely it can sound like some kind of aliens are decending.

So one day my brother decided it would be a good idea to lie under my bed with the keyboard, wait until I was lying in bed falling alseep and start playing the noise, quietly at first and slowly getting louder.

I had no idea what it was and was actually quite scared until I just looked under the bed where the noise was coming from and saw my brother.

On second thoughts, this prank was CRAP.
( Lollylegs lite, Thu 13 Dec 2007, 15:35, 2 replies)

With this joke you are really spoiling us
Once I shared a house with a group of mates who were notorious for playing practical jokes. One mate had a reputation for being really tight and at Christmas he was given a big tray of Ferro Rocher. Naturally we assumed that being good mate that he’d be soon be spoiling us with these chocolates; but being so tight he refused.

Months passed and everytime we went into his room the chocolates remained sealed in their plastic tray; mocking us. Something had to be done.

On night he out at work and the rest of us were having a bit of a drinking smoking session. As happens we had the great idea of sneaking into his room for a bit of a look round. After unscrewing the lock to his room and breaking in we discovered the chocolates – they would be ours.

Naturally after a bit of a smoke followed by a case of the munchies they didn’t last long but then the guilt kicked in. So in a moment of inspiration we decided the fill the wrappers with newspaper, put them in the box and then re-seal it with sellotape. Several days later we were called to his room; we figured we been found out. But no! He was mad that “those bastards at Ferro Rocher” had shafted him.

Almost ten years later he still mentions the time Ferro Rocher screwed him over; I haven't got the heart to tell him....
(Rev O'Lucian will unfortunatly age on, Thu 13 Dec 2007, 15:33, Reply)

Wabbit! Eeeek!
A few years back, I was working in the wilds of North Wales, at an old fashioned car dealership. Everyone had been there for years, there were people who had only ever worked there since leaving school, that sort of place. There was a cute young girlie working there in a sort of ‘spare bod’ capacity. Enthusiastic, hardworking, conscientious and naïve. Definitely not the sort of person to expose to me, especially as she was based just outside my office. Mwahahahaha…

Chatting generally as you do, she found out that on occasion I went out and attempted to shoot inoffensive fluffy animals and then eat them. Cue much ‘Ewwwwww’ from the McDonald scoffing bint. SO for a while I would now and then attempt to gross her out with tales of my hunter-gatherer prowess. A customer had even left a shotgun cartridge in a courtesy car (no biggie, ‘twas a rural business) and she had given it to me. Naturally I inscribed it with the motto “xxxx’s bunny murder” or similar and informed her that next time I went out bunny-blatting I would knock one over for her, in graphic detail.

Time passes. I get an invite to spend the weekend in a veritable orgy of missing rabbits at close range and swearing. So, on the Friday, I skew the conversation around to organic food (she’s all in favour) and how the most organic thing you could eat was wild food. I promise faithfully to bring back an ex-bunny, so she could enter the world of the true carnivore. Slightly worried now, and a little green, she leaves for the weekend, glancing nervously over her shoulder at my no doubt demonic grin as I casually hold up ‘her’ cartridge.

Monday morning. She bounces in, all bright-eyed and bushy tailed, to find that I have for once turned up on time. With a cheery greeting she trots over to her desk… to find a pair of rabbit ears sticking out of a tesco carrier bag that quite obviously contains a deceased flopsy. I’ve never actually heard anyone scream at such a pitch that only dogs could hear it before, although a car alarm did go off and I believe she may have wet herself slightly before barricading herself in the ladies.

After dispatching a female to entice her out, trembling and gibbering slightly, and with the title of ‘COMPLETE BASTARD’ once again honourably earned, I present her with her rabbit.

£4.99. Toys ‘R’ Us.

I’d been clay pigeon shooting.
(osok Rebel without a clue, Thu 13 Dec 2007, 15:33, 4 replies)

Evil son/big brother
I had such a twisted mind when I was a young 'un.
I was about 7 once upon a time, and was upstairs farting about when I heard my mother downstairs talking on the phone (which was located just at the foor of the steps).
So I came up with the idea of dressing my 2-year old sisters large doll (which was roughly the same height as her) in her clothes.
Standing at the top of the stairs (this was a time when stair gates were just a fad), I let the doll tumble down, not before roaring out my sisters name and letting out a scream. My poor mother didnt really recover from the fright until a week later.

A few years later, the film "Childs Play" comes out to big controversy and coincidentally, my sister gets one of those Corky dolls (red hair, moving mouth, tape player in the back). So yes, I recorded my own tape full of sinister threats (trying imitate Corkys voice) and she suffered from bed wetting for a few months after.

My poor family. :(
(dillinja puts lotions into baskets, Thu 13 Dec 2007, 15:30, 1 reply)

Jim the Knife
Another story coming from my time in Wakefield…

When studying I, like many students I know, worked in a bar so I could earn those all important beer tokens… Er, I mean, afford all those text books…

Anyway, on arriving to Sunny Wakefield ™, I wandered around the various bars and restaurants giving out my CV – and within 2 days I had a shiny new position as a barman at that fine eatery known as Wolski’s.

I worked hard, and eventually we came to Christmas. It was all hands on deck, but it was ok as I was very good friends with the head chef and several people from my course also worked there. We’d gone in to vacation time, and as a result there were several of us who were working well over 80 hours a week. After a few weeks, delirium began to set in and we all started getting a bit of cabin fever. On top of this, I was called upon to switch my time between the restaurant and the kitchen, prepping and turning out veg and working functions.

On one particularly busy lunchtime shift my friend James (the Head Chef) turns to me in the kitchen. I still remember this clear as day. He had a paring knife in his left hand, he put his right hand on my shoulder, looked me right in the eye and said:

“Do you trust me?”

“’Course I do!” Said I, blissfully unaware of what was to come.

In one swift move, he drew his hand back and plunged the blade deep in to my side. He wrenched his hand away, laughing like a maniac, leaving me stood there, stabbed and likely bleeding to death.

“You… You BASTARD!” I cried, incandescent with rage, “what the FUCK did you do that for?”

He kept laughing. The bastard kept laughing and so did everyone else while I slowly bled out on the floor of the kitchen.

But… Hang on… Wait… There’s no blood. And, surprisingly, no pain. Is this the endorphins kicking in? Am I already dead?

No.

As he had drawn his hand back, he dropped the knife, and the pain I felt in my side was a short, sharp and hard punch.

I only consider myself lucky that I didn’t lose control of my sphincter that day, or the gravy would have had a particularly nutty fragrance.
( Devil_In_Tights the *real* DiT!, Thu 13 Dec 2007, 15:22, 2 replies)

Flaming arseholes
My school metalwork teacher previously worked in a factory. It was an ancient place, and the toilets were of the hole-in-the ground variety, where you did your business directly into the flowing drains beneath the toilet seat.

One chap had a habit of taking himself off to the toilet and spending an hour or so catching up on his sleep after a liquid lunch. Top quality pranking - approved by the factory foreman, no less - was in order.

They lowered a tray down one of the upstream toilets, and filled it with burning oily rags. Then, they let it float downstream and awaited the inevitable...

"MWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!"

You can stick that right up your health and safety audit...
( Scaryduck LIKES EGG, Thu 13 Dec 2007, 15:19, 6 replies)