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)