Oily!
Years ago when I was in the RAF, having spent time with some of the strangest people you can possibly even consider, pranks and gags were, as you can imagine, bandied around with much amusement.

I can still hear Stu Williams' Welsh cries now... "My fucking shoes! What have you bastards done to my fucking shoes?!"

We had bought some white enamel paint (only stuff that will stick to leather No 1 parade shoes, and painted them a perfect shiny gleaming white. Next day we had a No 1 inspection, no less :)

But, of all gags, this was one of the best.
There was a small ginger lad, who owned a Mk1 Escort. Pristine it was, with alloys, chrome, big exhaust, nice stereo, the works. Worth an absolute fucking mint. Had even shown it off at shows and won some awards or whatnot.

I decided, that as his girly affection for his car, and refusal to pick up us lads from the local watering hole (he didn't drink) would require some form of payback. Retribution, if you like.

I got hold of his keys, and pulled one of the spark leads off the distribution cap, just enough so it doesn't IMMEDIATELY look loose, but will cause a cylinder not to fire, and obviously the engine will run shit as a result.

Next, roll car backwards, and under where the engine is, pour a nice quantity of the dirtiest old diesel oil on the floor. Roll car back, lock car, and return keys.

Next day, being a Friday, and a early finish Friday at that, we are all packed up ready to go. Cue ginger tosser starting car, and hearing the noisy starting and obvious shuddering caused by the engine, he looks somewhat confused.
He gets out, and we are all "alright, that sounds a bit noisy, mind you, was a bit damp earlier, it'll be alright in a bit!".
Cue him jumping back in, and reversing.
You now have a few lads looking aghast at the massive puddle of oil from where he has just reversed, and shouting "STOP!!!".

A whiter than white faced ginger emerges from the car, looks at the floor, looks at the car, and is horrified. Lads looking quite forlorn for him, till I whisper to a mate what I had done. One face of thunder and me thinking I'm about to me murdered, to one of impish glee, and he whispers "this will treat the little twat to NOT pick us up from the pub!"

Now, obviously, hes in near hysterics, but, theres nothing hes prepared to do, as he thinks hes just fucked his engine.
Off he trots, makes a phone call to AA recovery, and then to guard room to arrange for AA truck to come through main gates to car park.

At this point, said mate has let on what I've done, and its spreading like wildfire round the melee of people fucking off for the weekend. Hence, we then decide to bugger off to the Naffi for a couple of pints while we wait for others to get packed up, and end up getting pissed as lords as people come in to buy us drinks for this excellent jape.

Piece de la resistance?

Walking up to the AA guy as he's got it hlaf way up his tow truck, and telling him, with the sincerity that you can only muster when half pissed, that its actually just the spark lead, and the oil was a joke puddle. Ginger had demanded that said AA man not touch his car, but just simply to take it and him home.

AA man in tears of hysterics, best joke for a while lads, nice one, and as soon as Ginger comes back from whereever he had disappeared from, AA man straightens up, tells him to jump in, and takes Ginger home (somewhere near Carlisle if I recollect correctly, and this from Cosford, near Wolverhampton!).

Cue monday morning, 7am, and Ginger returns in motor. Nothing said to us all week, hes basically shunned us. Turns out when AA man dropped him off and unloaded his car (some 5 or 6 hours later), he told him.

Nice one AA man, if I ever see you again I will personally buy you drinks all night.

Apologies for length, but tales like this are always best served with warm gravy.
( Tesco Quality 60.825659, -0.788337, Fri 14 Dec 2007, 0:59, Reply)