My boss the MP
my boss is the local MP
I spit in his coffee,
take that establishment!
(Joe Guevara is well known for stealing your biscuits, Fri 14 Dec 2007, 12:28, 2 replies)

Definitely evil
As students in halls, we all lived in identical rooms in a block three stories high. It was one of the lad's birthdays, and as good friends do we took him out and got him paralytic. Mike, for that was his name, resided on the third floor, Joe lived in the same room on the ground floor; a few of us hung back from the start of the birthday celebrations to swap the two room's posters, cassettes, books, trainers, everything around. (In these halls your room key always opened at least one other door, and so getting in undetected was a sinch.)
At the end of the night we brought Mike home in appalling condition, and placed him in his own bed clothes but in the ground floor room.
At about 7am we all burst in to his room, startling the bleary eyed, hungover specimen. Then without hesitation we grabbed his legs and arms and threw him out of the window. You should have seen his face as he thought he'd just been hurled out of a third story bedroom.
I can't imagine his relief when he landed on the mattress we'd thoughtfully placed only 18 inches below the window sill.
I'm eternally glad that he wasn't secretly suffering from a heart condition.
( Ambiguous, Fri 14 Dec 2007, 12:21, 3 replies)

Erstwhile flatmate G, part 2
I can't remember if I've posted this story before. if I have, here we go again...

It was the end of the teaching phase of semester 2, and the sun was shining. I was approaching the end of my first year as an undergrad; the hall in which I lived held a May barbecue. My mates and I were on the lawn, a little tipsy, but chilled and happy.

I may have dozed off. That is the only way I can explain G having got hold of my camera.

At the end of the day, I noticed that I had finished the film rather more quickly than expected, but thought little of it and took the canister to the chemist's at the nearest opportunity. A couple of days later, I picked up the prints. The girl behind the counter gave me what was, in retrospect, quite a strange look.

It being a nice day, I went to the park to look at my photos. I couldn't remember exactly what I expected to see on every frame - the film had been in there quite a while. But I certainly did not expect to see several photos of a toilet bowl filled with poo. Nor did the old man on the same bench who was looking at my photos through the corner of his eye as I flicked through.

There was no mystery as to the culprit. Indeed, all I had to do was to show G the envelope from the chemists as I walked past for him to give himself away...

The scamp.
( Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Fri 14 Dec 2007, 12:19, Reply)

Slems Days
At Manchester Uni I stayed in the wonderful all boys hall of St Anselms, think 'animal house' with its own £1 a pint bar (and that was in 2004)

Where many a good prank was to be had and these are my favourites...

when I unscrewed the shower heads and placed OXO cubes in each one. I pierced one or two small holes in the OXO wrapping so the cube wouldn't dissolve too quickly. Chicken worked best as it didn't change the water colour too much.

Then there was the time we found rolls of lawn turf outside a house which we used to fully carpet a first years room.

Cling filming all the toilets in the hall, in an all boys hall no one lifts up the seat, serves the lazy fuckers right.



Apologies for lack of length, I’ve had too much to drink.
(Big_Sven, Fri 14 Dec 2007, 12:18, Reply)

Student Pranks
1.) One of our flatmates - nicknamed 'Babs' was a little naive about the ways of the West as he hailed from Nigeria, and came from a quite affluent family over there where everything was done for him by servants. While in our 'care' as it were, he developed a liking for Hot Choclate, one of many things he had never sampled back at home.

However, one cruel evening early in Babs' Hot Chocolate drinking career, we decided to top it up with more than a few hefty spoonfuls of Cayenne Pepper, shook it up and left it. Day after day and night after night Babs continued drinking it, and we continued topping it up with pepper and further chocolate and he never twigged, suffice for one comment which the rest of us couldn't help but fall about laughing at...

"You know, the more of this stuff you drink, the hotter it gets, I can see why they call it HOT Chocolate"

To this day I wonder if he's been permanently disappointed by Hot Chocolate since leaving us.



2.) The next year, a different student flat. Everyone going home for Christmas, and a few of us had been getting slightly, but increasingly 'narked' with one of our flatmates for not cleaning up after himself and nicking our food. He was the first to leave for Christmas to go home, and he kindly asked us to hand his keys in to pick up when he got back... Which we duly didn't.

We instead availed ourselves to his room, and deposited grass and cress seed all over the lovely green carpeted floor of his room, and laid damp newspaper over it, putting the heating on low as well...

... 4 weeks later when he came back he didn't know if he should vacuum the carpet or mow it.
( The Great Architect is still waiting for his account to be deleted on, Fri 14 Dec 2007, 12:10, 2 replies)

in halls at uni
one of my house mates (one of those particularly annoying short loud types) turned up completely out of his tree spouting a lot of bullshit barely able to stand etc... so after the typical leaving him slumped sat in a corner puking in the bin while we laughed at him and took photos we decided to mess with him a bit, the next day when he arose bleary eyed with gaps in his memory about how he got home we told him he came home with this gay guy called George and were less than discrete with each other, at first he refused to believe it but since we were all so adamant he eventually started to believe. probably didn't help that a couple of days later we penned a letter of romantic intent from George and left it on the mat for him. i suggested including a love glove with a bit of salad cream deposited on the inside and some brown sauce dried onto the outside with the letter but i was told that was taking it to far i think someone told him the truth eventually, he wasn't quite the same person for a few weeks after

lenght? i hear George is hung like like a horse and twice as energetic
( Reme Philips laid an epic dump on, Fri 14 Dec 2007, 12:06, Reply)

Another tale
Told to me by one of the instructors at Netheravon (army parachuting centre among other things) but just so good that it'd be rude not to pass it on...

Skydivers have what could be called a rather black sense of humour. When you combine that with the typical squaddie sense of humour, and the trans-atlantic divide...

Back in days of yore, there was a certain skydiving mad officer type. Lets call him Bob. Bob would spend all his leave travelling around the world with his rig, jumping as many dropzones as possible. Bob was a bit of a skydiving addict/nerd to be honest.

So he turns up at a DZ in the good ol' US of A. Florida I think. First thing he sees as he pitches up is a 'bounce'. Some poor bastard with a total malfunction ploughs in at terminal velocity. Dead as a kipper, obviously.

That evening, things are a bit subdued in the bar, as you may expect. The deceased's mates are consoling themselves with many beers and other noxious substances. Tiring of the maudlin fume-filled atmosphere, Bob decides to go for a stroll to get some fresh air.

Lo and behold, as he strolls through the undergrowth, he finds a dead dog. Quite fresh. SO what does Bob, in the finest traditions of upholding the good name of those holding the Queen's Commission and international relations do?

Bob strolls back into the bar dragging the ex-pooch by the tail. A pregnant hush falls - it's not every day someone goes splat and then a loon appears with a dead mutt. Tumbleweeds roll past.....

Bob: "you know that guy who bounced today"?

Throng: "errrm yeah?" ("Sniff")

Bob: "I know what went wrong...."

"he was blind - I've just found his guide dog"
(osok Rebel without a clue, Fri 14 Dec 2007, 12:04, 3 replies)

I'm not sure if you would
class this as a prank, or just plain evil?

I used to work for a small company in Medway, and I will say the name, it was called Quality Concepts. And it was a complete and utter shower of shite.

As staff we were highly underpaid and overworked (as everyone is). I started initially on £40 a week as an NVQ trainee, and I was 18! How can anyone live on that shit? Anyway, as I was never given enough time to finish my NVQ I decided it was time to ask for a payrise, I done it at exactly the same time as my only remaining colleague, everyone else had had enough and fucked off.

The bastard undercut both of us by exactly the same amount! We weren't even asking for much :(

Revenge needed to be ours, but instead of picking on the tashed twat that was the "gaffa", we decided to have a pop at his dillusional alcoholic wife. She was constantly accusing us of conspiring against him whilst she downed bottles of Gin. Nasty nasty...

Anyway, what made us finally take our revenge that month was not being paid on time, so undercut and not paid on time, nice huh? We went to the Gin soaked hags desk and busted open a draw, removed a few biscuits and proceeded in soiling them in different ways, including

* Rubbing around genitals and arse crack
* Wiping around the rim of the gents bogs and dunking in the urinals
* Rolling them about in the dust on the floor

Aaaahhhh, that made us feel better.

Moral of the story? Always pay your staff on time, no matter what job it is!


Edit: Just to add that I am very happy in my job now and wouldn't dream of performing such acts of vengence.
( Firkinfedup last shat on your wife's tits at, Fri 14 Dec 2007, 12:01, 2 replies)

Mirror imagery
My old colleague Andy, whom I've mentioned already, went to university in Leicester. He told me of a good prank played in halls of residence.

Now, halls being what they are, tend to be designed such that two rooms next to each other are laid out as mirror images. So when one bloke was out getting pissed one night, Andy and his mates, with the consent and assistance of the bloke in the adjoining room, swapped the entire contents of the two rooms around. Posters, furniture, the lot.

They then swapped the doors (just how I'm not sure as some joinery may have been required to make them fit, but no matter).

So when pissed chap arrives back, he puts his key in his lock. It doesn't turn. He goes off the find the caretaker, who comes up with him, opens the door with the correct number, because the doors were swapped, and lets the bloke in.

To 'his' room. Only it was completely arse-for-tit compared to what he remembered. All of his posters and belongings were where they were meant to be, but on the opposite wall.

As you may imagine, this caused him some distress and confusion after a pint or ten!
( K2k6 has a proper job these days, Fri 14 Dec 2007, 11:59, 7 replies)

Funnily enough I judt did this one today before I even knew what the new QOTW was:)
As some of you know and as most probably dont, I am self employed and work from a home office. 90% of the time I am at home working (along fucking about here;) co-ordinating sub contractors, ordering goods along with a whole heap of boring shit that I even wont bother to mention (dont worry, just setting the scene here guys, read on). The other 10% of my time is usually client meetings which usually means a only few hours of the day are spent away from the office. My wifey has recently closed her business and come to work with me, so naturally she has become accustomed to my routine. However, with christmas rapidly approaching and trade resources being stretched I have decided to go out on site and assist my sub contractors to accelerate projects, this means wifey takes all calls and refers anything urgent to me via mobile phone.
So, cue me going to a local site this morning having worked for a few hours and realising I need another tool from home. 5 minutes later I pull up in the driveway and my phone rings, it is wifey with some messages. Usually if either of us are near home, we dont bother answering and just discuss whatever it is within the next few minutes when we see each other at home. But today for some reason I answered the phone in the driveway and talked as if I was on site, taking messages, usual small talk etc etc...
As I approached the house (about 80m walk from driveway) something in my mind decided to tell wifey... "Oh, by the way hon, I have just heard that there is some freak just walking into places around [insert local suburbs here] harassing people"
wifey: "where did you hear that?"
me: "Some guys up here (work site) were just telling me, been happening a bit apparently"
Wifey:"Shiiit, I might just lock the door to be safe then!"
At this point, I think to myself "bah! I'll get down there and she will be still at the desk, and will lock the door next time she gets up if she does it at all. I'll just open the door jum in and say "SURPRISE FREAK! JUST THOUGHT I'D DROP IN!!!"
But no, she did take it quite seriously and actualy feared for her safety. As I got to the door (about 5 seconds after I mentioned the "freak") I could hear the keys fumbling at the lock. She dropped them. I turned the handle. Cue her forcing the door back against me as I am saying "ITS JUST ME HON!"
"WHO IS IT!!! GO AWAY!!!!" was the only repeated response I could get.
I actually had to force my head throught the door to settle her down.

She shat herself so much that our pet bird that was on her shoulder flew down to the lounge room and hid under the lounge! Poor wifey was on the verge of hyperventilating.

Thank fuck she has a sense of humour. Still, I dont like my chances of being forgiven for that one.
( Sir Pigeon Nipples Did you sit in some sugar?, Fri 14 Dec 2007, 11:43, Reply)

Possibly an urban myth but...
made me laugh anyhoos.

I heard a tale about particularly awkward and beligerent old duffer who ran a small company, a real tosspot who none of his employees liked. One day he came to work in a new hat of some sort. Somebody found out where he got this from and purchased 2 identical ones, one size smaller and one larger.

You know where this is leading, obviously.

Every couple of days these would be swapped with the original, everyone thinking that he would be a bit wound up, however he went to see his doctor thinking his head was expanding and shrinking, and when not happy with being told that couldn't happen went to more and more specialists to find out what was wrong.

Happy endings for the staff because he took early retirement but left a nervous wreck convinced that he had a new and scary condition.

Length? Variable by all accounts.
(tinypod will never learn. Ever., Fri 14 Dec 2007, 11:42, 1 reply)

Frozen Socks
Ah college days...... Ten odd years ago we had small party at our gaff. All the usual goings on etc. Our mate Barry passes out on a bed so naturally some of the guys decide to shave his legs. This was neither imaginative nor very successful. I on the other hand had the stroke of genius of freezing his socks. All you do is roll the socks up into a ball. Run under the tap for a minute and plop it into your freezer beside the fish fingers (you may cover socks with plastic bag if posh). Come morning time you have a nice ice brick made of socks and one pissed off house guest. I can still see Barry now trying to thaw them out in our microwave....
(jackdonaghy has a special helmet, Fri 14 Dec 2007, 11:35, Reply)

Washing powder + Fairy Liquid + Toilets= Soapy
A gem from Uni when I lived (or more existed) in halls, which were filled with loud-mouthed twunts. Being a quiet type, I never went to the on-masse nightclub of a friday which the rest of my hall did, but stayed in having a wee smokette with some fellow souls.

Every friday, at 2 am, the twunts (about 20 of them would return, pissed as gorillas and about as loud and obnoxious) came back and proceeded to shout, barf, and generally keep me awake till dawn and harass the girls who lived in my block, until one night I could take no more - I'm the kind of guy who lets things bubble under the surface, then finally explodes like a fabulous Roman candle of rage.

So, on that night, one of my stoner chums left my room, silently, and disappeared for a bit. He returned, giggling like a loon and announced "I've left teeth marks in every piece of cheese I can find in the fridges".

I was inspired, however something more needed to be done.

I took as much fairy liquid (a common UK brand of washing up liquid - particularly bubbly) and washing powder as I could find, and, cleverly for a stoned bloke, poured them into the cistern of the toilet which was below my room.

I then retired to a safe distance and waited.

At 2 am, right on cue, the twunts returned, pissed as ever.

Joy of joys, one I particularly hated (he was a believer that all clothes should be designer, he was a mummy's boy in a creepy way, and God help any woman he fancied) needed to barf. He had been holding it in in the taxi, and legged it upstairs to the toilet to puke.

Guess which toilet he used.

That flush/scream combo is the noise that will make me smile in hell.


They never found out it was me, as I had a reputation for being the "stoned bloke who never even moves."
( DrPrunesquallor is determined to post more as of, Fri 14 Dec 2007, 11:35, 1 reply)

Hitler moustache
We recently invented a new game, the catchly titled 'draw the Hitler moustache on the passed out person using permanent marker without them waking up'.

It's funny at the time and considerably funnier in the morning. Quite difficult if the victim has a greasy lip.

Permanent marker really does live up to it's name.
(spunkyD, Fri 14 Dec 2007, 11:33, 1 reply)

History teacher and the prank that never was
So there was this teacher. Nice enough guy, maybe a bit self-consciously 'cool' but generally OK. Anyway one of his habits was that unlike most teachers, he wouldn't sit in a chair behind the desk at the front -- he'd sit cross-legged on the desk instead.

So, rather like an earlier story, one day somebody brought in a screwdriver. Lots of fun unscrewing door handles and such, and then somebody hit on the plan of unscrewing one of the legs on the teacher's desk. Oh, how we chortled at the prospect of seeing him sprawl comically across the floor!

As he walked in, we were uncharacteristically hushed. On the edge of our seats, we watched him cross the short distance between the door and the desk...we held our breath...he paused a moment...and, for the first time ever, sat down behind the desk, on the chair.

We couldn't believe it. It must've been some sort of teacher's sixth sense. He spent the whole lesson behind the desk as we sat desperately hoping that at the very least, it would tip and send his briefcase flying. It didn't. At the end of the lesson he stood up and walked out, none the wiser.

Bastard.
( reallywittyname veraciously conspues lexiphanicism on, Fri 14 Dec 2007, 11:21, 1 reply)

I'm generally not one for evil pranks...
But my evil streak shone through one lazy summer evening back in 1996. My and my sister were bored shitless sat at home - so bored we were watching a Fencing tournament on Eurosport. Yes, that kind of evening - skint due to not being arsed to find a job during the long University holiday period and bored because it was too warm to do anything.

The parents were out at some fancy dinner and we simply had one task to perform....to detail that task would give the game away. But, the trick would have served the parents right for not digging into their pockets to spare some cash for a pair of bored students to go out and have a night out.

Or so we thought.

As the plan was concocted in our minds, we both pretty much voiced the plan at the same time.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" I asked my sister.

"If it involves what Mum asked us to do, then, yes....I think I am" she replied.

"How many? 5?" I queried.

"No....all 6...no, wait...yeah, just 5" she replied.

"No, got to be all 6".

Fast forward a few hours when the parents return - my sister and I have decimated my Dad's beer supply and we're onto the spirits. We're in the living room watching some awful horror film on Sky when we both her this yelp. Then a whoop! Then a "We've won the fucking lottery!!!!"

At that instant, I knew we should have settled for 5 numbers rather than 6. It wasn't even funny - I felt sick to my stomach that I'd tricked my poor mum into thinking she'd won a share of £10m all because she wouldn't lend/give me £20 to go out.

The fallout was considerable. I sheepishly went to bed whilst my Dad consoled my mum and called us "ungrateful little shits". I sneaked off the next morning back to Uni before anyone had got up and it was a whole two weeks before my Mum would speak to me and accept an apology. She accepted it, but said that the next time she saw me that I better make a "proper fucking apology, face to face - like a man".

My sister managed to crawl out of her spot with a "I told him not to do all 6" and bought her some flowers. Instant fucking forgiveness!
(lo-fi_shop_assistant, Fri 14 Dec 2007, 11:14, 8 replies)

Could be used as a practical joke
but I used it as revenge.

At the beginning of a 2 week detachment to what was RAAF Butterworth (Malaysia) in the eighties. We were staying in an old hospital across the road from the base itself.
On the roadside between the two was a good size dead dog, nicely bloated.
Anyway we were running two shifts, and as always some people have to make pricks of themselves while others are trying to sleep. Sleep is hard enough with very high humidity and temperatures, and no aircon.
By the end of the trip, I'd had enough of one of our framies loud obnoxious mouth, so while they were partying on (t'was the last night), I retrieved the previously mentioned dog, using a garbage bag over my arms.
The dog was a mass of decaying flesh and bone and full of maggots.
Taking it back to their room, I could not tell which bed belonged to the offending member, so I compromised and stuck it under a bed instead of in his. I really wish I could have found his bed, as only one person was sober enough to even smell the dog (it really was foul), and it wasn't the one the was a prick. So he would have fallen into bed with it had I found the right one.
Well the guy that sober enough to find it, threw it just outside the door (he really wasn't that sober).
It was quite hilarious watching all the hung over troops retching as they exited their room when the truck stopped to pick them up in the morning. It wa sthe talk for quite some time, and was a well kept secret for a few years, as several others really thought that these pricks deserved what they got.
(M61A1 CUPID- STUNTS, Fri 14 Dec 2007, 11:08, Reply)

Immature? Definitely. Puerile? Almost certainly. Regrets? Not too many as it goes…
When I was about 18 and temping at a parts warehouse in Coventry, there was a few ‘characters’ joining me in the stint. One of whom was a nerdy chap called Kevin who tried too hard to be popular and as a result, nobody really liked him. Another one was a rather attractive (yes I did, before you ask) but mentalist girl called Susan. (We called her ‘hollow legs’ because she would always ‘try’ to match us drink for drink, and to her credit, she nearly always succeeded.)

We used to do the standard ‘work’ pranks – padlocking in the toilets, joke names over the tannoy etc, but the one thing that kept us going through the whole time we were there was the ‘notes on the back’ prank.

Part of our job was to label up crates with A5 size sticky labels. Cue a ‘joke’ statement on the label and some ninja-esque stealth, and the label could be placed on anybody’s back without them noticing.

It started small – we would write ‘TWAT’ and leave it on the boss……then we would write ‘I THINK CUM IS YUMMY’ and place it on the biggest, hardest, angriest looking bastard in the place.

One time, I didn’t notice the two carefully placed notes saying ‘FUCK MY ARSE!’ and ‘GO ON, YOU KNOW YOU WANT TO…’, and after work I happily went shopping, pushing my trolley round Tesco’s wondering why I was getting funny looks and the mothers were averting their children’s eyes. Nobody told me – I only realised as I took my T-shirt off that night.

Sue once arrived into work dressed not in her usual studenty rags, but smartly suited and booted in black. Turns out she was leaving early to go to a distant relative’s funeral. We first thought of putting ‘RENT-A-MOURNER’ on her back, but then someone had a ‘better’ idea. I understand she actually made it through the church doors with the sign saying ‘I’M GLAD THE OLD CUNT IS DEAD’ proudly on display.

As you can see, despite the fact I went round like a paranoid twunt checking my back every 2 minutes, we all got on rather swimmingly and tried to see the funny side of whatever happened to us

Before long the time of year approached that my folks would go on holiday, I would house / dog-sit, and would throw a party. This time, the warehouse lot were invited as well as the usual bunch.

Anyhoo, Kev arrived and proceeded to get the kind of pissed you only read about on these pages. Chucking up all over the shop, being shouty, twattish and generally obnoxious. He was however, one of the first to fall asleep. In the dog’s bed. FATAL ERROR

Of course, we all began to draw over his face with permanent marker…dotted lines with ‘cut here’ across his forehead, fake scars and big eyebrows – the works. He didn’t move. So we covered him in shaving foam. He didn’t budge. We then proceeded to strip the bastard. Still nothing. But then we had a thought...

We neatly folded his entire clothes ensemble into a small square, soaked it with water and put it in the deep freeze. If any of us went into the back room we would habitually pour another jug of water over the lot. Water was soon swapped for blackcurrant juice. Funny japes all round. Next day, Kev awoke to discover a solid block of purple in the freezer.

What we hadn’t thought of is that the knob-cheese had been trying to impress us by wearing some designer stuff totalling about £500 – If I remember correctly his Armani Jeans alone cost about £200.

Also, his wallet containing £100 was inside them at the time. Oops

On Kev’s last day at the warehouse he was ‘crucified’ – i.e tied to a ‘cross’ of two planks of wood, debagged (again) by the old ladies, had Swarfega and iron filings shoved down his grots then had it rubbed in.

Like I said, he wasn’t really very popular.
( Pooflake braces for an onslaught..., Fri 14 Dec 2007, 10:57, Reply)

Spider diving
When I was 8 and my younger sister was 6 we were playing in my Grans back yard. I was climbing on top of her coal shed (about 2m high) and dropping off.

My sister (who I have never really got on with) was following me round, wanting to join in with me in that annoying little sister way. I tries to get shot of her but mummy dearest told me it would be no choc-dip for me if I didn't let her.

So up on top of the coal shed I climbed followed by my sister and I dropped off. She then panicked and said she was scared and didnt want to jump down - now I was not in the mood for this, after all I didn't want her to play anyway!.. so I decided to tell her there was a big spider behind her and (her phobia) and it was going to get her, in an attempt to get her to shrug her 6yr old reservations about jumping off a 2m high shed... I even assured her that if she dropped of that I would catch her - what a brilliant big brother!

Unfortunately the prank worked a little too well - she Dived head first off the coal shed! All thoughts of catching her disappeared at this 5 year old kamikazie pilot without a plane comes bombing towards me (and the paved yard). I did what every decent older brother would do... jumped out of the way. She smacked the ground head first and then didn't move.

Now, to my 8yr old mind, she was dead and I was partly responsible being that I had told her to jump and I had said I would catch her and not forgetting the child eating spider I told her was there that made her leap in the first place.

So, I ran in to my mam screaming and sobbing "Michelle has just died... she jumped from the shed and 'I tried to catch her but I couldn't... I am so sorry!!!".

My mother rushes out screaming to find my sister unconscious in the yard... bleeding from a substantial head wound, rings for an ambulance... sister still wasn't conscious by the time the ambulance arrived 15 mins later!

Sister ended up having a fractured skull and having to spend a week in hospital, having no memory of the entire day never mind the Spider situation - Hence my little white lie about it not being my fault and that I 'tried' to catch her led to me being treat like a little hero.

I eventually owned up to this one many years later but as far as evil pranks go, nearly killing your sister has to be near the top of the list?

Oh by the way - LOOK OUT THERES A SPIDER BEHIND YOU!!!
(three inches of snarling death, Fri 14 Dec 2007, 10:40, Reply)

Fish
In the days before I joined the dark side - I used to belong to an even darker side, the side of IT support. BOFH had nothing on us, even when we were trying our hardest to be nice. Coupled with the fact we worked in schools... it was a prankster's dream...

However, the IT lot could never lay claim to what went down in history as the ultimate - our 'sister' site had a guy who was supposedly there to generate contacts in business to raise money to pay for educational 'things'. Only problem was that no-one could stand the guy. He was, by all accounts, an evil, twisted, psycho with no social skills and bad breath to match.

So someone bribed the caretaking staff (not that it took much) to give them the key to his plush, new office, and placed a fresh, whole fish in the paper tray of his printer. On the first day of his two week holiday. And then went outside and chained the bumper of his car to a lampost (as the target was too tight to pay airport parking, so he left his car at work).

After two weeks, said target walks into his office to be met with a stench that only hell could muster, and then (on discovering fishy remains in the bottom of his Laserjet) storms out of the office, down to the car park, starts his car and... promptly removes his rear bumper, after wheelspinning out of the car park.

Teachers... don't p*ss them off.....
( HSDriver was probably still at work on, Fri 14 Dec 2007, 10:37, Reply)

Back in 6th form...
...there was this one tosser who used to hang out with us. Indeed he might well have qualified for the pathological liar QOTW as he was one of those 'anything you've done I've done one better' types. He also thought he was a hardcore gangster as he'd sold a couple of spliffs to his younger brother's mates and drove a Corsa.

Anyway about halfway through our final year my mate Olly turned 18 and celebrated with a massive house party. Everyone in our year was invited, the tosser included, and the debauchery was much.

By the early hours it had quietened down a bit and Olly found himself sitting on a sofa with his tongue down the throat of a nubile young lady who was sitting on his lap. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed the tosser stumble towards them and collapse onto the same sofa. Through the drunken haze he was then a bit surprised to see the tosser reach over, put his hand up the young lady's skirt and start fingering her. Not that polite but she didn't seem to mind, quite the opposite in fact, and so Olly thought nothing else of it and ended up retiring upstairs with the young lady shortly after.

The next week Olly, young lady (now gf), me and my then gf were in the pub and they told us the story. I laughed and commented that in another situation the tosser's actions could have been seen as quite dodgy. Since Olly had got fairly pissed off over the week with the tosser telling more and more exaggerated stories about his pulling exploits at the party, he decided to mess around with him a bit by ringing the tosser and telling him the girl was very upset and considering pressing charges. She thought this was a great idea, so Olly did it then and there. After he'd hung up we laughed, decided to let the tosser stew for a few minutes and then ring him up and tell him we were just messing around.

However when Olly rang back his face suddenly went ashen, his tone went very serious and when he hung up he uttered the immortal words, "He's told his Dad!" which considering we'd only spoken to him about 5 minutes before was quite impressive. I should point out that his Dad was a local magistrate...

What can I say, we panicked. Realising we could get in quite a bit of trouble for this we needed an out. After a brief discussion we hit upon a plan. Olly rang back again and suggested that, having spoken to the girl, maybe if the tosser wrote her a letter apologising this show of contrition would be enough get her to drop the charges. We left it at that, it seemed to satisfy both parties.

On monday morning the tosser turned up to college and, more subdued than we'd ever seen him, handed the letter over to the young lady. Needless to say by 10 o'clock we'd made over 300 copies and distributed them around the college. Some even made it to other colleges and schools.

Eventually we were called in and given a bit of a dressing down but it was totally worth it and the tosser never spoke to us again. Eventually he transferred to a college in another town to finish his A-levels.

Do occasionally see him in town when I'm back visiting my parents. Would love to say he learnt his lesson but sadly he's still a cock.

Apologies for length, but his letter was longer than this post.
(Milo Minderbinder, Fri 14 Dec 2007, 10:30, Reply)

school pranks are the best...
...especially when the prankee is some innocent (if a tad boring and slow) history teacher. This teacher was completely obsessed by having every piece of furniture in his room aligned properly. If a chair was left out of line at the end of class, we'd be kept behind the next lesson, to makes sure everything "was as it should be".

So, the prank. The doors in our school all had locks, but they were sufficiently old that they were pickable by teenagers with paperclips. One morning, a group of us came into school about half an hour early, opened his door, and locked it behind us. No-one knew we were there. Once inside, we each took out the screwdrivers each of us had brought in. You may be able to see where this is going...

Later that day, we have our history lesson. We line up outside, as per usual, and the history teacher unlocks the door and walks in. As the class starts to follow him in, he makes the fateful mistake of brushing lightly against one of the desks.

It swayed slightly, stopped, righted itself, then with an almighty crash, its legs fell from under it. This started a kind of domino chain reaction effect, and our teacher could do nothing to stop it as his world fell apart around him.

Nothing was left standing. We had unscrewed everything to the point of collapse. Every single chair and desk, the frames pictures and wall hangings, his desk and the desk lamp upon it, even the blackboard had fallen off the wall.

The next day, we were told that history lessons were cancelled for the week while they found a new teacher to teach us. Apparently, he'd handed in his resignation before the hour was out.

Appologies for length, but some of those screws were really long!

oh,and *pop* an' all that...
( rydonabike I'm not unthinking everyone of nothing...., Fri 14 Dec 2007, 10:22, 4 replies)

Hot Coin.......
Aged around 11/12 I played football for a local team. At the end end of each season we would go on a team outing to somewhere usually quite shit. This time it was Butlins in Bognor Regis, which actually turned out to be really good as we fucked around so much due to the adults rarely supervising us and choosing to go out on the piss instead. Anyway, one of the many piss about games we played(which I'm particularly proud of as it was my idea) involved putting a coin on the oddly flat topped radiators they had in our chalet until the coin become incredibly hot, then seeing who had the balls to hold onto the coin for the longest time(imaging that scene in Indiana Jones - raiders of the lost ark where the ss nazi guys burns his hand on a brand and has to cool it in the snow..thats what I wanted to re-create) being the eventual winner. We always took the piss out of a particular member of the team, for the sake of anonymity we'll call him Sean Finnegan. My evil twist to this game was to leave a 50p coin on the radiator ALL DAY, wait until said boy was asleep and then sneakily lift the coin with the aid of an instrument and place it somewhere on his body that would really hurt like the fleshy underside of his bicep or the back of his thigh or his forehead. Due to the way he was sleeping I decided to put it on the middle of his back and the added bonus was that he was topless which mean direct skin to skin contact (which was what i always intended anyway). 4 other members of the team woke up in the dead of night to see me perform this feat. The funniest thing was the delayed reaction, due to him being asleep his brain took at least 20 seconds to kick the pain receptors in. I've never seen someone scream so loudly and jump so high, at the time it was very funny. I didn't manage to brand him with the queen but I left a nice heptagonal red mark that he had for the best part of week.
Who would have thought such premeditated evil would have been capable from an 11 year old, I was a nice catholic boy alter server too....and before you ask no the priest didn't try to fuck me.

:)
(CaptainFellatioNelson is trying to kill me, Fri 14 Dec 2007, 10:21, Reply)

Edible green carpet.
Asshole neighbour off on his hols?

Grab a watering can / hose / bucket and funnel, wait until quiet enough to do this unnoticed. Pour water through the letterbox, enough that the carpet will be at least slightly damp for a couple of days. Now, empty as many packets of watercress seeds as you can afford (they're dirt cheap) through the letterbox, as evenly as you can manage. Don't make piles, that'll stop it growing.

In just a couple of days he'll have a lush new green carpet, and if the ungrateful bastard doesn't like your refurbishment, he can always make a nice salad to cheer himself up.
(misanthrope is so adjective he's verbing nouns!, Fri 14 Dec 2007, 10:10, 1 reply)

A friend of mine...
... when i was in college had a real fondness for 'mum' jokes. funny at first, but gets boring, real quick. Lets call him Luke
Along with this he did have a genuine fancy for a mutal friends mum and we never heard the end of this either...
This mum was the typical wannabe-a-teenager again mum and would allow partys at any time.
One such night Luke made a real drunken fool of him self and it was decided revenge was needed.
After he passed out we carried him into the mums room and let him spend the night in her bed (God bless her for playing along with this joke)
He spent forever trying to convince us he really did sleep with the mum. But after months of 'mum' jokes who would take him seriously :)
(Emily Salvage, Fri 14 Dec 2007, 9:53, Reply)

I killed my grandfather...
My paternal grandparents used to live - when they lived at all, that is - in a house with a large garden. And when I say "large", I mean "measured in acres" kind of large. It was ace; there were lots of rocky bits, coppices, paths through bushes and so on - everything a child could need for hours of adventure.

An obvious trope was to hide behind a bush or rock, wait for someone to come past, and yell "BOO!" at them. One day, that's exactly what I did to my grandfather.

My grandfather, I knew, had a slightly weak heart. I didn't take this into account. I was young.

I could see him coming; I crouched in a clump of bracken. Closer... closer... closer...



"BOO!"

My grandfather looked startled for a moment - but only for a moment. He fell. He stayed fallen.
"Oh, Jesus H Macy; I've fucking killed Grandad," I would have thought had I not been only 9. "Oh, bother, I've flipping well killed Grandad," is what I probably did think.

Not knowing what else to do, I simply looked at his very still body for what looked like hours but can only have been seconds.
"Grandad?" I ventured. "Are you all right? Can you hear me? Grandad?"

Nothing.

More nothing.

Pinteresque nothing.





















"BOO!" he yelled.

I was the one who had a heart attack that day.
( Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Fri 14 Dec 2007, 9:46, 8 replies)

Tubes
Whilst a shift manager at British Steel I sent an apprentice to stores with a requisition for a pair of Fallopian Tubes.

He came back (after they kept him waiting 2 hours whilst they "looked" for them) saying that they were out of stock.
( Blackdogmanguitar is out with Fat Larry's Jazz Band on, Fri 14 Dec 2007, 9:37, 5 replies)

Glitter Shitter
Many moons ago, whilst in the RAF I was detached to Kosovo. Accommodation was sleeping bags and tents, it was a good life and it was good.

One of the Sgt's (Nige) was away on R&R, we were having bit of a party in his tent. We had one of those party poppers that you blow up then squeeze and the glitter bits go all over the place.

So, we did this in Nige's sleeping bag and promptly forgot all about it. He came back, crashed out in his bag, woke up the following mornig, covered in little glitter squares. Now Nige not a quiet chap (he is from Leeds) eventually saw the funny side, however he was slightly perturbed when he announced that when he wiped his arse he was finding glitter squares...
(Skeksis 2nd place is 1st loser....., Fri 14 Dec 2007, 9:20, Reply)