Problem solved.
Referring to answer of about 2 hours ago: I made Paul (gluttonous whining cunty housemate) a bowl of choc ice cream with a whole tab (8 pills) of Imodium mixed in.

The next time he shits (in November or thereabouts), the result will probably be classified as a WMD.

/hull
(Tiktock Beating off flamers with a shitty stick, Sat 20 Sep 2008, 21:13, Reply)

Innocent victim of squaddie humour?
1985. Step-sister, marrying a Para. A very decent couple. Just trying to do the best. Lovely wedding and reception at the officers mess. Me, naive 16 year old. Perfectly happy to be escorted to said do in a minibus with my new family. Sounds nice and respectable. Happy to quaff champagne. Admiring the white camouflage adorning the reception. Slightly inexperienced in handling the drink, but I was coping. Sat next to older, more experienced, friends and relatives. Toasting. Listening to speeches. Feeling slightly uncomfortable in my corduroy suit from Woolworths (poor me!).Laughing along like I knew what it meant. Enjoying the inevitable courses of food.
Then came the pudding. Strawberry cheesecake. Only mine contained an added extra. A black, thick, curly, pubic hair. Sat amongst the cheesecakedness of it all. Poking out and waving at me. I ate around it. I didn¡¦t complain. I was too young to. I would like to say that I coped with it but I spent the rest of the evening by throwing up on myself, other people, the bride, the floor, the toilets, and the minibus on the way home and slept until 1 o¡¦clock the next day, when everyone greeted me with disgust.
I still wish I had had the courage to say something about the disgusting pube. I wish i had not tried to drink my way out of the situation. And also, I wish I had had have the bravery to tell them about the 35 year old that was at the wedding too, who had been taking advantage of me sexually, for months.
Actually, the advances of a man that should have known better, I got over, but I never understood the presence of an unwanted hair in my cheesecake!
I know better now.
( Itsallsugar is made up of bits of names, Sat 20 Sep 2008, 20:58, Reply)

I had a nasty vehemently anti-social druggy benefit cheating chav move in next door to me in a shared house, and we shared a kitchen,
he would constantly keep nicking my food when he was off his tits on drugs and booze and then accusing me of eating his 'cos he had no memory of eating any of it, drove me feckin nuts. Also he as an utter utter cunt in every way he could think of and proud of it, including threats against my person, he made my life hell and eventually forced me to move out.

Anyway, before I had the idea to get my own fridge locked in my room, I would placate myself by always leaving one item out of every pack of foodstuffs I bought, or just the last of something, just for him, after having done something horrible to it, these included:

Spunking in a pasty.

Inserting a cooked sausage where the sun don't shine.

Pissing in the last of the milk.

Re-packaging laxative chocolate.

And my personal favourite, crushing some dodgy Es I had been given into some bottled beer along with a viagra, which caused him to wobble about the house in varying states of arousal for about 6 hours in just a T-shirt and boxers, knocking on everyone's doors telling them how he was really really horny and sexy and everybody wanted his babies, hint hint, before spectacularly throwing up on his own bed.

He really was an utter fuckwit oxygen thief tho and the repugnant greasy cunt bubble deserved all of it and more, I can assure you.
( ..wil, Sat 20 Sep 2008, 20:17, 7 replies)

Parents
My folks are just a tad dysfunctional

My parents were having the usual 6 month long argument which results as usual in my step dad paying nowt towards the running of the house and still expecting to be fed, clean clothes provided etc...

Anyways my mum gets just a bit peeved at this and for his meal makes him a curry.

As I'm no longer living at home I receive a panicked phone call from my sister asking if ingesting a full bottle of syrup of figs could kill a person. It transgresses that my step dad has been in the bathroom for rather along time and is making some rather alarming noises(no not the making your own fun kind).

The answer is no ingesting a full bottle of syrup of figs will not kill you but you will think twice about pissing off my mum.
(DryGoldfish, Sat 20 Sep 2008, 20:11, 2 replies)

Been chucked out your house?
Ex-missus shacked up with a fat swine?

Still got a key?

Piss in her kettle.

Sorted.
( baw__bag contains traces of nuts on, Sat 20 Sep 2008, 19:11, Reply)

More like intended sabotage, really
Tonight, two of us made dinner. Seeing as our budget is fairly tight (the equivalent of $4/person/day) we only had 1 kilogram of chicken breast for seven people. We determined that each person could only have one piece each.

Paul (name not changed), the resident whining know-it-all, took four pieces. After wolfing them down at a near-relativistic speed, he complained that the chicken was too spicy and that we should not cook again.

I need to do something fairly drastic to his food next time I cook, does anyone have a suggestion?
(Tiktock Beating off flamers with a shitty stick, Sat 20 Sep 2008, 18:24, 17 replies)

Hmm...
I don't think I would ever soil someone's food, no matter how irritating they are.
I mean, what has the food ever done to you?
I'd much rather gob on them instead.
( Mellicious is made of candy, Sat 20 Sep 2008, 17:47, 1 reply)

Cheeseburger, no...cheesebooger
I had been working as a security guard faithfully for 3 years but the new owners were beginning to find reasons to fire people because some were trying to get a union started and, all of a sudden, the company would use any reason to ding you for ANYTHING. I was high on the suspect list because I moonlighted for another guard company that contained a lot of the organizers. I WASN'T involved, but neither would I rat them out, so they targeted me HARD. We were allowed THREE points violations per month before we got canned, but this had happened before, so I figured I'd keep my nose clean and ride it out. Well, it wasn't to be. There was a known fink/rat in the company, and everyone knew he was an alky, but the company was blackmailing him to rat on others or be fired for his problem. I had NO malevolence toward the guy until this happened. Anyway, they dinged me for two points as soon as they could (coffee stain on uniform, talking during guardmount, both ordinary things for everyone), but they were having trouble getting the third point on me because I disciplined myself to toe the line EXACTLY. I'd done it a million times before, everyone had, when things weren't so hostile. Anyway, one day I had things happen at the house and I was running a little behind, so I got in my GSX and zipped to work very fast. We had to be 15 min early to work for guard mount, so it was a known tradition for the guard at the front gate to know the cars of the other guards and just wave them through for start of shift. Happened every day. We all did it out of professional courtesy for each other as well as just covering each other's butts. Well, this day I came speeding to work, and who's on the front gate, but Rick, the rat. I had just minutes to go to get to the office, which was just a tick inside the gate, but he insisted I come to a complete stop and show my ID, walk around my car and look for security decal infractions. I started shouting at him that I was going to be late, but he persisted, so I knew what was up: the third point. He managed to make me late, and they wrote me up. I knew the end was a day or two away depending on who they got to cover my shift.

Anyway, I got lucky and got to work the front gate the next day as the break liaison was bringing food through for everybody from the local burger joint. He was a bud of mine and knew what was going down with me, and while we talked, my eyes focused on the bag of food. "Hey Jerry! Is there a burger for Rick in there?" I asked. "Yeah, he's got a big ol' fat double cheese burger in there. It' got his name on it.." I smiled and opened the bag, getting the fat, greasy dripping thing out. Jerry grinned too as he realized what I had in mind. I flipped open the bun and dug a huge, slimy ass booger out of my nose and put it smack in the middle of the patty, then closed the bun and rewrapped it. "Give him this for me, willya?" I chuckled. "Sure!", says Jerry.

After I got canned, I bumped into Jerry in the store, and he proceeded to describe how Rick had grabbed the boogerburger and wolf it down, even saying, "Aw..best cheeseburger EVER! And extra salty, too! Just the way I like it!"

To this day, I like to think I added the "salt".

They fired Rick anyway, and he went and became a carny and was never heard from again.

Serves him right. Wonder if he ever had another cheesebooger as good as that one....

Plus, that stupid company turned me from not caring about unions to a very pro-union person due to this incident. Idiots. If you just treat a person right, you won't have to watch your back all the time.
(nunyuz, Sat 20 Sep 2008, 17:26, Reply)

Thom's story
I must warn you - you will probably hate me after you read this.

I had once this really weird friend. Let's call him Thom.

He was ranting all the time about some sort of world conspiracy and how unreal everything around us is supposed to be.

He was a real pain in the ass with his constant mumbling and every time we met, he made some smart-ass remarks about reality and life and so on.

To round it up, he barely came out of his place and spent all the time in the net chatting with other freaks about his fantasies.

You probably know the way in which sad and lonely net geeks behave.

With the years, he was becoming more and more obsessed, and finally one day I decided to have a little fun with his mania.

So I configured an IRC account over a web anonymizer and found him in the channel where he was normally hanging out.

Then I pretended I was someone else and told him all the stuff he was talking about conspiracies etc. was true and if we would meet I would prove it to him.

He really fell into it!

We arranged a meeting and I talked another friend (who was black) into offering Thom two different skittles I had previously injected with some first-class acid and telling him that if he would swallow one of them he would understand everything.

The sucker did swallow the red one and couldn't come off the trip...

The asylum personnel said now he's talking all the time about some evil robots with tentacles and crowds of identic men wearing black suits and sunglasses.

Poor bastard, I guess I'm going to Hull.
( Zhmei HEY B3TA I WAS ON YOUR DINGY ISLAND AT LAST!1!, Sat 20 Sep 2008, 17:05, 3 replies)

There's a Beastie Boys theme restaurant in New York.

( Dr Preference AjcuiVd289, Sat 20 Sep 2008, 16:59, 5 replies)

I may have had my food sabotaged...
Many years ago I'd travelled to a pokey little dingleberry near Birmingham to see my then girlfriend. It was my first time seeing her and I was up there for a couple of weeks. Add to this the fact that I was 16 and my first trip away alone, I was quite nervous.

One evening, after a walk in one of the local "parks", the girlf decides we should go to her local kebab house, get something to eat and head home. She did warn me that the owner of said establishment had had a bit of a thing for her. Being from Kent I'm naturally suspicious of foreign folk, so this made for a fun time. We enter the kebab place and the following conversation takes place.

"Aaaah, Sarah, you have new man I see!"

"Yes, yes I do."

(to me) "You take care of this girl my friend, she is very special"

"Yes, yes I will"

"If you do not I'll have to sort you out, hahahaha!"

"Hahahaha."

"Yes, you treat her good or I come beat you to death with table leg! Hahahahaha!"

"Hahaha...ha.......ha..........ha."

He then pulls out a table leg from behind the counter and gives me a weird grin. He then winked at her.

I really, really regret asking him to put mayonnaise on it. Christ knows what it might have been.
(GONEism, Sat 20 Sep 2008, 16:42, Reply)

heres one I bet you've never heard
A friend of a friend of a friends neighbours uncle I know bought a kebab and asked for their "special sauce". They wake up later that night with a pain in their belly and go at A&E.

The Dr's test the contents of their stomach only to find.........
half digested kebab meat and garlic-yoghurt sauce!

They had been a bit curt with the staff, so the Dr's decided they had to right a wrong worse than what happened at Auchwitz.

The Dr and 6 of his mates all wiped their knobs on the tube used for the stomach pump and used spit for lube. This was discovered by on the spot DNA tests, not like real DNA tests that can take days. No, those instant ones that even unqualified people can do, you know, the kind that people who like to regurgitate urban legends as their own love.

It's TRUE! Wiki it!!!
(Mr.Dog was in love again on, Sat 20 Sep 2008, 16:30, 1 reply)

My mate
works at a funeral directors. The boss is a right miserable cunt and barks orders at people all day long. One day he demands my mate makes him a cup of tea and holds out his cup without even making eye contact. Said mate returns five minutes later with a lovely cup of tea for the boss only the cup had made an unplanned stop at the morgue in the basement and had been lovingly massaged with the bell end of a corpse. The boss takes a sip and says "Mmm, nice- thanks". My mate felt guilty for about eight seconds.
(Ich Komme is adjusting his testicles, Sat 20 Sep 2008, 15:34, 2 replies)

Not deliberate sabotage...
...but still. My dad's mate* once met a girl on a night out and ended up back at her house. After a little heavy petting, they ended up nekkid and feeling each other up. He asks for some sucky sucky and she tells him she'll only suck it if there's something flavoured on it.

I'm not sure if body paint was all that common back then so this chap goes on a starkers hunt for something to coat his pecker in. He ends up in the kitchen where he finds some jam, opens the jar and dunks his love sausage in. Off back upstairs he trots to claim his prize. She noms away, they get down to the nasty and all is well. Until the morning.

This chap didn't know that she lived with her mum. And when they went down to breakfast the next morning, there sat her mum and sister, happily spreading the cheesy jam on their toast. Lovely.

*This is the first time I have thought about the whole "not me but a mate" thing. I really hope this didn't happen to my dad. *Shudders*
( El Lazarus is calm now, Ish,, Sat 20 Sep 2008, 15:10, 1 reply)

I had a friend
who had come into rather a lot of money midway through life and he was rather showy offy about it. He came round my house for lunch a while back and asked for a jam sandwich. I was a bit fed up with his boasting and showing off, so I thought I'd sabotage his food in a terrible, terrible way.

You see, instead of using the jar of nice strawberry conserve, I put tesco value jam in it. I know it was harsh but his attitude was really abrasive and he just pushed me over the edge.

Anyway, when he bit into the sandwich he immediately noticed. Unlike the posh jam, this jam was absolutely smooth with no bits in it. This made him think of the smoothness on the rapidly balding tires of his dad's old Lada, and when they were driving down a snowy country lane one night in 1979. The bald tires caused the car to crash and his dad was killed.

His eyes welled up and he ran out of the house. I've never heard from him since. I feel really, properly guilty.


...
...
...
...oh fuck off. I have absolutely nothing for this week. And my story is as good as any, it just lacks a grounding in reality.
(GONEism, Sat 20 Sep 2008, 14:31, 2 replies)

eggs
A few years ago I was in Yemen, following the coast from Oman. Despite what you've read about Al Qaida and nasty arab gentlemen, Yemen is probably the friendliest country in the world, but it is tribal, so you need guards with you. They're really there just to vouch for you with the local tribes rather than have to do any real guarding, but they are armed to the teeth. As is everyone in the country. But they will let you have a go with their Kalashnikovs if you ask nicely, and even the anti-aircraft gun on the back of the pickup too..

Anyway, we were camping in the middle of nowhere on the beach, when our guide/cook comes over with breakfast for us. He slings his AK47 over his arm and hands us an omelette each.

Now, normally you'd think. 'we're in the fucking desert and have been for two weeks - where the pants did he just get fresh eggs from?' but the heat of the place does strange things to your mind. 50C night and day starts to shut your body down and it gets harder to make connections and do, well, just about anything.

So we eat the omelettes, as do our guards. Tasty.

I finish up and wander down the cliff to the sea try and cool off in the sea, the closest I could get to a shower, and notice distinctive tracks all over the beach. Turtles! Cool. I notice some turtle eggshells that must have been dug up by wild dogs during the night...wait...thoughts begin to seep into my heat addled brain.

We'd eaten probably the rarest omelette ever that morning, made from endangered turtle eggs. Oops.
(inflateable, Sat 20 Sep 2008, 14:08, 4 replies)

Not exactly sabotage, but...
As student, worked in a hotel in Aberdeen, and was regularly pissed off by big-headed yanks. (Better than being pissed on by them, but that's not relevant.)

So, some yank big-shot arrives at 11.00 pm, and demands that the restaurant stays open until he eats. After a leisurely shower (what a ****) he wanders down.

I'd managed to persuade one of the senior chefs to stay on, and the yank decides to order off-menu. (Double arse.) He says he enjoys Mexican food, but nothing too spicey, and would like whtever the UK equivalent is.

Right.... Chef whips up a pretty mean Chicken Korma, mushroom rice and something like a naan. I had a taste, the chef having confirmed it was unadulterated, and it was bloody good.

Served the yank the curry (unmolested) and scuttled off to cover for the departing chef. After a sweet, the yank admitted he thoroghly enjoyed it, tho' admitted that the hotness was just at his limit (wuss.)

However, as it had taken too long to prepare, he wouldn't be tipping us, so we could learn a lesson about customer service.

Sabotage / Revenge ? Sadly lacking so far, but he did ask us what sort of curry it was. Hopefully, thereafter I do hope he asks for Chicken Vindaloo hoping to emulate that wonderful one.

Ringpiece Revenge I hope.
( Tepid_Halibut felt like a cold, empty shell of a human...until, Sat 20 Sep 2008, 13:35, 3 replies)

Unintended, but still most definitely sabotage...
Back when I lived in Essex I played pool for my dad's pub team. Every Tuesday was pool night: a few games of pool followed by celebration or commiseration, and then some food, laid on by the home team's pub.

Home games usually involved a huge tray of sandwiches or some weeks sausages and chips. For some reason, when it was sandwiches the egg ones were the most popular by some long margin.

One of the guys on the team was Barry, a strange guy. He was about 6'4", kept very much to himself (in fact he hardly spoke to anyone, ever) and crap at pool. However, he was mad for the food at the end of the night: some had postulated that perhaps it was his only meal of the week, such was his enthusiasm.

The night in question, Barry had played his game of pool and gone to the lounge bar while the match continued. At the end of the night the tray of sandwiches came out and the inevitable "impression of a badly-bahaved Russian bread queue crossed with Hyenas round a carcass" began.

One of my friends had a sandwich in his hand but realised there was only one egg sandwich left on the try so he wouldn't get it in time. What to do? He picked it up with his free hand and licked it, then put it down on the side of the tray, much to everyone's disgust. Still, mission accomplished; the sandwich was his.

Except that then came a thundering of high speed footsteps as Barry realised he was missing his dinner. Thundering in from the lounge bar, he scanned the tray and, spotting his prize, picked up the last remaining egg sandwich and wolfed it down.

At the time, my friend and I fell about laughing, but as I've typed this I've realised how utterly horrible it sounds.


Length? Only a couple of inches, even less if you left the crusts.
(Professor Kenny Martin Hmm? What?, Sat 20 Sep 2008, 13:33, Reply)

a long journey
(this is only my second or third post around here, after some professional lurkage, so usual pleas for niceness!)

For several years I have worked as a plumber, sometimes on and off with my brother if the job required. As you can imagine it is a trade rife with oppurtunites for food sabotage.

So this one particular job I went to was at some old place in the middle of nowhere. My brother was nowhere to be found on this occasion, so must have be skiving. The owner was nowhere to be found, but had kindly left me a note on the door.

This old place was in fact to all intents and purposes a castle, and in need of renovation. Clearly I was to be left to get on with the job, so started trying a few doors, but many of them were locked.

Then, and this is where my memory gets a bit hazy, I found a door that opened I suddenly found myself in a strange space, which I presumed be more of the castle grounds. There was this huge black dog like creature chained in a yard, that I had to be careful to avoid. There was lots of money to be found lying around too, which is perhaps how I was to be paid. A cash in hand job, which suited me fine.

It soon became apparent that to leave this strange courtyard and return to the castle I had to get past this big black guy. He didn't talk much, but the implication was I could be in big trouble if I didn't get passed him. Thankfully, I re-discovered how athletic I could be, a bi of a surprise given my rotund figure, and soon found myelf doing all kinds of jumps. Suffice to say there was a bit of a scuffle, I saw stars by the end of it but soon found mysef back in the castle.

What to say about what happened next? It turned out that what I thought was going to be a two / three day job tops, turned into a months then year long task in which it seemed time itself became meaningless. I was now acting excuslively for the client, as it seemed there was some guy trying to muscle in on her territory. I never knew that the world of plumbing could become so perilous.

Or give me so much oppurtunity for travel. Although the castle remained my base as more of its doors opened, I was taken to many strange lands away from it. Many more cash in hand jobs.

There was that time I experienced what I now call extreme plumbing, where I arrived in one world and had to dive straight in to a deep ocean and help clear an old wreck. Other times I got to ride what I can only describe as a relative of Nessie through vast underground caverns. Who would believe my stories once I returned? My brother could have helped me, but he was nowhere to be found as I went to more and more exotic lands, fighting my way past creatures I never imagined existed. There was the site of the ancient pyraminds where I almost got sucked into the sand, then there was my long months spent in a hostile icy world helping with a penguin wildlife conversation project, amongst other things. I never knew that penguins could be so easily seperated from their babies, but it was a good laugh, and I even raced one of them.

It wasn't all fun and games though. This guy trying to muscle in had a tough shell, was hard to crack and had many friends who were well-connected enough to make things difficult for me. Every land I visited there was something new to confront. Some of the lands were so unreal, if I told you about them you would probably think I was on something, but I swear there were magic carpets and strange ceatures who changed size at different times I visited.

The tough-shell guy even appeared himself a few times, liked stamping a lot. Finally, on the third time I met him I confronted him and defeated him for good. Suddenly the atmosphere changed, all the castle was open, and I was finally able to meet the client in person!

And so I returned from my epic and surreal journey, from the lands of hot and cold, the dizzying heights where I flew through the air, the chilly lows where I could drown or fall at any moment. I was a plumber yes, but i had become so much more than that.

So I got back to the castle, it was a bit of an occasion I thought, but things didn't seem t be quite right. Plumbers have to be make ends meet, there had been all that money, but I wanted a reward, I wanted glory!

Then I remembered the message the owner had left on the door, and suddenly was left in no doubt I had been slightly cheated.

"Dear Mario, please come to the castle. I have baked a cake for you.

Princess Peach"

What was to be my reward?

Cake! That was it! Sabotage! 120 stars, endless red coins, three versions of Bowser, those dratted penguins and all I got was a cake.

I did get to lava-surf though, which was cool.

I'd like to say I sabotaged the cake by putting chilli in it as the "Princess" as she called herself, ate it.

But no, I am a gentleman. So me and my new oriental friend Yoshi, simply grabbed some 'shrooms and went on a trip in the crazy rainbow world above the castle. Perhaps it will cheer you slightly to know it's a tradesman who feels he has been sightly conned for once.

I'm not Polish no, but I am Italian.

It's me, Mario!

(I am v v sorry. This is my personal tribute to an awesome N64 game, on which I spent many happy hours wasting revision time. Great game, but thought the ending was a bit rubbish.)
(treaclebriggs, Sat 20 Sep 2008, 13:28, 2 replies)

Inevitable
My flatmate was into scat.

So I put HP Sauce in his poo.

eyethangyewgetscoat
( calgacus Non sum qualis eram bonae sub regno Cynarae, Sat 20 Sep 2008, 13:20, 1 reply)

my (sheltered) housemate in halls abhored the word cunt
so in my red stripe and weed fueled wisdom thought it would be uproariously funny to scribe the word into her (fiercely guarded) tub of Flora.

My intention was just to use her most taboo word and annoy her once again..

This was five years ago now and i've only this year realised i was effectively calling her a cunt. Thinking back, the relationship was definitely strained for the remaining months of our time together
( applehead herp derp, Sat 20 Sep 2008, 13:13, Reply)

When's your dolmio day?
A couple of months ago, my friends and I were "enjoying" the welsh countryside whilst doing our Gold Duke of Edinburgh award. The camp we were staying at was very minimal. No toilets, no showers, just one shitty little water tap.

So when we arrived at camp we started to pitch our tents (not like that you dirty, dirty people)and get cooking. Tonights meal - Pasta and dolmio sauce. The meal itself tasted fine, tasted slightly of meths because the bottle had leaked slightly into the pans but it was nothing major.

Once we had finished we suddenly realised that there were no bins anywhere in our field and none of us fancied carrying our litter with us the next day but it began to seem like that was the only option until my friend suddenly had a brain wave:

"Oi, lads, theres a public toilet about 1/4 of a mile up the road, i'll go and see if theres a bin down there to bring up"

So off he went in search of a bin. About 20 minutes later he returns carrying a small bin.

"Oh nice," says I, "Where was it?"
"Well, i checked the mens and the disabled and there werent any bins in there so i poked my head into the ladies and found this bad boy," he said, waving the bin.

Yes, he had brought a sanitary bin for us to put our rubbish into. Seemed pretty disguisting but faced with having to carry our rubbish around with us, we decided just to put our rubbish into it anyway.

And so we did, posting each piece of plastic wrapping and packets into the rag bin. One of my friends hadnt quite finished his food but decided to just chuck the rest of his meal into the bin as well. The dolmio sauce from the pasta slopped all over the bin leaving large lumps of sun-dried tomato stuck to it.

And that, my friends, is why how we managed to ruin what used to be one of my favourite meals. Whenever I think about cooking some, the image of some woman with a VERY heavy flow comes to mind and I feel very sick.

P.S We actually did put the bin back into the toilets, dolmio sauce et al. I can still hear the screams of the cleaning lady in my mind.
(Foulkesy123 The one and only..., Sat 20 Sep 2008, 12:49, Reply)

Here's to all the Halls of Residents food thieves.
During my stay in the grim Albert-Speer-style halls at Queen Margaret University, many light fingered student types had away with almost all the food purchased perhaps the night before, most notably a handful of margarine (I say handful, there were finger-marks), prompting me to stop buying anything requiring a fridge.

This caused me some reasonable distress, so we decided to take action. One night, a mate and I made bolognese. The mince was cheap and fatty, so we drained off the excess into a bowl. It set pure white.

Feeling particularly vindictive we decided to make a cake. Into our most evil of victoria sponges went a healthy dash of pepper, a handful of parmesan, plenty of sugar, filled the middle with a heady mix of jam and ketchup, and finally iced the whole thing, with utmost care and presentational finesse, with the aforementioned beef fat.

It looked very appealing, and to ensure that we got those thieving bastards, we took a generous slice out, then left the cake in the common room.

To our delight, we discovered our lard cake the next day with at least two more slices missing.

I hope they enjoyed it. The arseholes.
(TheWoldinite too energetic for normal sports, Sat 20 Sep 2008, 12:39, Reply)

At School
My mate offered me a jelly bean.

"What a nice act of generosity" I thought.

It had an unusual rubbery texture, but I shrugged it off and took a bite anyway.

The bean burst and my mouth was showered with a disgusting fishy liquid.

Turns out what he had done was bring a load of cod liver oil tablets into school, and placed them in an empty bag of sweets he had bought.

Took me forever to get rid of the taste.
(scazy_lumbag, Sat 20 Sep 2008, 11:28, 2 replies)

Shit sandwich
The details are hazy. We were very, very drunk.

When we were younger, and drinking a bottle of vodka was deemed a good idea by our circle of friends, we did the vodka challenge. a bottle each, see how far you get. Simple. Stupid. Brilliant.

After about half a bottle one of my friends, Nick, went and passed out face down and naked in his mums bed.

After carrying on our teen binge for a few more hours, we went to check on him and found he had pissed the bed, to this end, we figured he's already sabotaged himself. To not carry on would be an insult. To someone. Probably.

Anyway, bastard friend A, who we'll call Matt, had a bright idea.

Shit sandwich!

He shit out a little nugget of joy between two pieces of bread, and promptly slapped it onto Nick's sleeping face, whilst gleefully shouting 'Shit Sandwich!' much to our hilarity. Imagine if you will a drunken Ryu, shouting 'Hadouken!' before smashing his enemy. This was similar. Only browner.

Nick awoke with a brilliantly relevant 'Ah shit!' and smeared the brown treasures across his face in an attempt to get it off him.

In his drunken state he threw the sandwich down off his bunk bed and behind his desk, where it stayed for about a week, before he tore his room apart looking for the source of the stench eminating from his stinky boudoir.
(Scrumpy does not negotiate with terrorists,, Sat 20 Sep 2008, 11:10, 1 reply)

Smell my cheese
Don't know if this really counts but here goes...

Did anybody ever play that "game" when they were kids called Smelly my Cheese? No? Well basically you extend your left arm slightly with your palm turned flat and upward. Then take your right hand, place it on your left hand and ask some poor, unsuspecting fucker to "Smell my cheese".

Now unless you've been fisting a block of Gorgonzola or have leprosy your hand really shouldn't smell like cheese. So, when your target leans in to smell it you punch them. Right in the face.

This used to cause much hilarity between me and my 8 year old chums until I decided to try it out on the object of pre-pubescent lust. Sarah McKay. Lovely girl.

Anyhoo as Sarah leaned in to smell my cheese I thought "I shouldn't be doing this, my mum said it's wrong to hit a girl. But then baddies hit the pink Power Ranger. Yeah....I'm bad!Grrrr!". So I did. Pow!. Right in the kisser.

Turns out being a baddie from Power Rangers sucks. It means when you hit the pink Power Ranger you get grounded for a month.

Slightly tenuous link I know, I know.
(Holy Cremola Foam Batman will be back on, Sat 20 Sep 2008, 11:03, 1 reply)

Michael Winner
Michael Winner came into my restaurant for lunch a few weeks ago. It was an incredibly busy service, so nobody had the time to spunk into his soup.

He sent it back saying it tasted funny.




*May not be true

**May be ripped off from Viz too
( HoratioFellatio Taking the the out of psychotherapist, Sat 20 Sep 2008, 10:37, 3 replies)

Media Plagiarising
I once gave a girlfriend a hot dog which consisted of my erect phallus nestled between 2 hot dog buns on a plate.

"Is that thing a foot long?" she asked.
(Vic Flange, Sat 20 Sep 2008, 9:48, Reply)

Halloween Naughtiness
My dad hates trick-or-treaters so we conveniently never had anything to give them. I guess the hatred has kinda rubbed off on us a bit. One year my brother and i made them sprouts dipped in white chocolate. For the record, they look but do not taste like ferrero rocher.

We didn't get any trick-or-treaters the next year. But they should've realised - who would waste ferrero rocher on a fat kid in a pointy hat?
(sniffle is full of shit, Sat 20 Sep 2008, 9:00, Reply)