The bad shrooms
Things would often go missing from the fridge in our dorms - mostly my stuff, as I actually cooked and therefore kept myself well stocked with essentials such as milk and veg etc. I'm also allergic to everything, so had goats milk instead of normal moo milk. It'd piss me off when this mysteriously dripped away over about a day, but there was little I could do about it, and it wasn't like I'd put much effort into actually producing it myself. No, what was annoying was when foods I'd prepared myself would get snaffled. It takes quite a little time to make a good mushroom sauce, and this would regularly go missing. I had an idea.

I've always been into mushrooms. Not the hallucinogenic ones, more the wild mushrooms which sprout from the most unexpected places almost overnight and taste a thousand times better than any of the watery white rubbish you get in the supermarkets. Whole armies of pale, ethereal umbrellas in the undergrowth. I would regularly go out in pick them from the parks ad footpaths, and my room was filled with strings of dried mushrooms hanging from the ceiling, turning gently in the draft from under the windowsill. On one particular mushroom-hunting journey, I came across a mushroom which would be instrumental to my revenge.

The common shaggy ink cap. They grow all over the place, and I'd found a large clump. Now if you look these up in a book, it may well tell you that they're edible. Another book will tell you that they're quite poisonous and you should avoid them. Others are more ambiguous - so what's going on?

The shaggy ink cap is actually delicious - it has a wonderfully rich, intense mushroom flavour and will almost melt into anything you make, turing it a lovely inky black colour if you use some of the older, larger fruits. However, if you ingest alcohol for anything up to THREE DAYS after eating the mushrooms, you will experience severe side-effects which can include nausea, vomiting and heart palpitations. Nasty. Of course, I don't really drink much at all (just not my thing, it's not a matter of principle) so I would be fine, but if anyone nicked it, well, let's just say that there was an entire wall built out of empty beer cans in the kitchen.

That evening was interesting.
( Hampster Squared has stuff at www.tilla.co.uk, Thu 18 Sep 2008, 23:32, 6 replies)

So one lunchtime Michael Winner came into my restaurant,
Unfortunately, it was a particularly busy lunch shift and I didn't have time to wank in his soup. He sent it back, saying it 'tasted funny'.
(The Oscillating Gibbon is eating curried squid, Thu 18 Sep 2008, 23:21, 2 replies)

Sorry
I have a small round shield given to me by a scottish relative ("Just like they used at Culloden...". Interestingly, it has a design featuring an american wrestler in some sort of headdress hitting a metal bowl with a stick, apparently making music of some kind.

It's my Fou d'Sabu Targe.
(puerile is really getting into seagulls lately., Thu 18 Sep 2008, 22:50, Reply)

Psychological food warfare
When I was very little we lived in Toronto and my dad worked as an electrician for a recording studio. One of the artists/ singers there (upon whom I had the biggest little girl crush ever) had a B & W head shot on the wall.He was absolutely gorgeous as a boy.(He was only 17 then, but now he's 59 and famous, on TV, in films, etc. I'd love to see him again and remind him I used to sit on his lap and snuggle his Afro. Aside over, back to story...)

My dad was eating lunch in the studio with a bunch of guys when one of the new apprentices indicated my honey's picture and said, "Does that chick come in here often?"

Dad is incredulous, thinking "Chick! Chick? Can he not tell that's a guy?" but he says, "Yeah, quite a bit, actually, but not your type."

NA: "She friendly?"

Dad: "Yeah, real friendly, but I'm tellin' ya, so not your type."

NA: "She got a nice rack?" waggles his eyebrows and makes boobie motions with his hands.

Dad is fed up with this guy and keeps chewing until NA takes a big swig of his pop.

Dad: Nice rack? Not so's ya notice, but she's got a really big dick."

NA chokes. Pepsi sprays everywhere.

The apprentice never lived it down especially after our friend found out about it and would wink and wave every time he saw him.
(TDub Nunc id vides, nunc ne vides on, Thu 18 Sep 2008, 22:42, Reply)

Self-Sabotage
Four of my mates and I found ourselves on holiday in Denmark, with very little money in a very upmarket, Scottish themed (being classic British tourists) bar/nightclub.

Cue trying to get us fucked as possible with only enough money for 3 pints each.

One of my mates, an incredibly introverted guy but with balls of steel, stopped the confused, Danish barman in his tracks as he walked past, collecting empty glasses. Somehow, he managed to convince the bartender to hand over the glass he was collecting the dregs in and no sooner than it changed hands the mysterious dark liquid was down his neck.

I couldn't say with precision what was in that glass, but from our collective memories of what those around us were drinking it contained at least: Guinness, lager, sherry, wine and red bull. Mmmmm...

He went to the toilet shortly afterwards, but was fine for the rest of the evening.
( Butters and his titanium codsocket, Thu 18 Sep 2008, 22:37, Reply)

Calling All Food Saboteurs!
I need your help with some bastard food theives.

98% of the food I eat is raw and vegan (don't judge, it's my choice and I'm not preachy, I even cook the boyfriend's steak for him when he buys it) so have a ton of raw fruit and vegetables around my warehouse apartment and in the fridge.

My roommates CONTINUALLY steal it, regardless of my many protests and pleas. They get drunk or stoned and eat all my fruit and vegetables, and it's the only food I eat!! GRRR!!

So I need to sabotage the next batch of food I buy. It can be blatant or sneaky, I don't care which, as long as I get my revenge. I don't want to spit on it or rub it on my pussy as I am actually good friends with everyone I live with when they're not eating my sweet sweet apples and celery.

Suggestions please!
(little fawn, Thu 18 Sep 2008, 21:59, 39 replies)

I pissed in the staff room kettle at school
I doubt I'm the only one.
( Peej, Thu 18 Sep 2008, 21:54, 2 replies)

Pan sabotage
Not strictly food but an item for preparing food.

My dad was a bit of a "see you next Tuesday". I remember one year as a kid he asked my mother what she wanted for her birthday. She jokingly said he might as well get her a new pan so she can cook his pasta in it (as women do).

He took her to her word (as men do) and on the morning of her birthday he presented a pan shaped present wrapped in happy birthday paper (and a thoughtful bow) and all hell broke loose.

He got her something else pretty sharpish but it was never forgotten (you know women and that)

Years later it turned out he hadn't just bought her a new pan after all, he had bought her a set of pans. Six in total, each slightly smaller than the next - they stacked into each other.

Eventually she calmed down and the time came for us to chuck the old pan (loose handle) and use "The new pan" instead.

Dad took great pride in saying it was a useful present after all and despatched the old one with the wonky handle to the bin. I think she might have taken a swing at him with it at some time during the proceedings.

Of course after two weeks "the new pan" was substituted (in the dead of night) for the next size down by my dad who had hidden the set in the loft.

Two more weeks later and the next smallest pan was taken down from the loft and replaced the previous. 3 months later she was down to the milk pan, insisting all along that it must be the heat shrinking the metal.

Of course this became a topic of intense discussion with everyone and anyone she knew even for years after. Quite frankly she's never been the same since (but that's men for you).
( buffet_the_appetite_slayer ٩(●̮̃•)۶ jacked in to the ICE on, Thu 18 Sep 2008, 21:32, 6 replies)

We put party popper charges in a pepper pot once
Someone banged it on the table when they couldn't get any pepper out and they nearly choked to death and couldn't see for about half an hour.

I also went through a phase of swapping the paper stuff in party poppers for foodstuffs. Horseradish sauce was particularly good and it looked like spunk when it landed on someone's dinner jacket.
( thistle, Thu 18 Sep 2008, 21:28, 4 replies)

The Strike of "The spice Man!!"
Two summers back, me, and 30 or so of people I went to school with decided to go on a camping trip in celebration of completing our final year of compulsory education. The decided camp site happened to be on a pub's field, which I lived next door to (and by next door I mean it was the closest building to my house which is 1/4 of a mile away).

So the day came around, I had instructed my friends to walk down to my house once they had arrived, and we'd take some logs from my garden up to the field. As you can imagine with there being around 30 people, there was a blatant social divide, (me and my friends made up only around 30% of this divide), so at 7 O'clock there was a knock on the door and 8 or 9 people waiting on the step, we pick up the wood and start to walk up to the field. "where's Mitch" I ask along the way,
"Ah we left him in the tent to look after the food and booze, in case 'the others' try anything".

So we arrive at the site, where Mitch informs us that two people from "The other group" did in-fact, try to enter the tent, not knowing he was in there. "The fucking bastards! did they say anything Mitch?"

"Just said 'oh sorry wrong tent' and then left!"

"Bollocks, they thought they were in the wrong tent! They we're trying to steal our drink".

We were livid and wanted to do something, but we were smaller in numbers, and it was Mitch's word against theirs, so we said and did nothing about it.

So later that night 'The other group' got a phone call from a friend who had just arrived at the near by train station, and didn't know how to get to the pub, so rather than give directions, they decided to walk to the station and collect them. So off they went to the station (and no exaggeration ALL of them went, why it takes 20 odd people to collect 1 person from a train station I have no idea). This was our chance to strike revenge, the original plan was just to try and drink their booze before their return, but me and my close friend Aaron had a much more sinister idea! "Guy's wait a minuet, if they come back and see that we've drunk their alcohol, they'll just get pissed and take ours, we have a better idea........" Aaron announced to the group. The plan, was to spike their drink with hot sauce, not just any hot sauce, but Fucking rip your head off, descend into Dante's ninth circle, and stare in eyes of Lucifer himself, hot sauce!!! This was one million scoville hot sauce (for those of you who don't know 'scoville' is the measurement of the heat of chillies, Tabasco sauce is a mere 2,500). So with the plan in place we set it into action...

Aaron and I made haste back to my house where we put a few drops of the stuff into a small tupperware pot, while the rest of our group scuttled through "The other's" drink in search of a suitable bottle. Upon our return Mitche passed us an unopened bottle of white wine, Aaron smeared the sauce all around the rim of the bottle and hurried back into their tent and put the wine bottle back in place. We all agree that we will all take the fall no matter how smaller part we played in the operation, and then got back to grilling sauseges.

Eventually "The others" returned, we waited for it........ and waited for it......... "any second now".........
"They'll get to that bottle soon!"......... "Aaron you DID put all of on there right?"........
"Would the spicy-ness of it be diluted by the wine?"..........
"maybe they just put up with it not to give us the satisfaction!"..........


And then finally after two hours of anticipation..... "Oh my God!!!!! *cough* THERE'S FUCKING *cough* SOMETHING IN THAT WINE *cough* *gag* WHAAAAAAAA" Sophie, ones of the girls from "The other group" had took a swig of the wine, and was now panicking that there was poison in it and was now crying partly through panic, mainly through pain (Ok so I do feel a little bad that we made her cry). Me, not being the best person to keep a straight face, ran off trying to hide my laughter.

Once I had calmed down I returned and by this time mass panic had set in, Sophie was still crying and now with a small red rash around her lip's and her friend Bex was going through peoples bags, Ash (Bex's boyfriend) had figured it was us, and surprisingly found it hilarious and was playing along with it. The rest of the guy's from "The other group" were tasting the wine trying to figure out what was in it, some wincing in pain others exclaiming "That's fucking LSD someone's put in there" and
"That tastes of nicotine" (seriously nicotine? c'mon) and Emma (bit of a drama queen) was telling people that she'd seen gypsies on the field next door (which there weren't) and she could swear she saw "A man in the bushes holing a testube and laughing" (which she hadn't.....I hope).

Amazingly most of the cretins believed Emma's bull shit story about "The Spice Man" and sat huddled in their tents terrified that A gypsy would turn up and force feed them hot sauce.

unfortunately we had to come clean in the end because Bex wanted to call the police on this imaginary chillie based, now super villain.

The moral of this story is, don't go in other peoples tents or "The Spice Man" will hunt you down, and spice you!!!
(Madlyinsane, Thu 18 Sep 2008, 21:21, Reply)

More Uni hi-jinks
Back in the "House of Fun" at uni we did once play a trick on one of the guys (J for those who have read the blood story)and it is food related.

J used to eat a lot of chocolate spread sandwiches so we got an old jar, washed it out and painted the inside a chocolate colour, taped a party popper to the side then taped the string to the lid (ensuring just enough slack to tolerate being screwed on and off).

Next time J came to make a sandwich he picked up the jar, unscrewed and pulled of the lid and BANG!

He literally threw the jar against the wall and thankfully not us as we were laughing so hard we were incapable of moving.
( TGB checking Off Topic is still shit at, Thu 18 Sep 2008, 21:05, Reply)

This is just weak.
This isn't really a sabotage moment, it's more an unfortunate side effect of someone elses fun.

Imagine the scene. Shared university halls. Kitchen. Large fridge. My butter (are you liking the jump cut thing? very visual this story eh? I'm thinking it's sort of like The Evil Dead right at the end when the camera races through the house. Fab... aaanywhooo)

I didn't spread it on bread. No. That's because it had a pube in it.

There is nothing else to say...
(rockers74 killed a man in Reno just to watch him die., Thu 18 Sep 2008, 20:56, Reply)

Once, back in the dim distant...
past, my habit was to make quite realistic looking shits out of whipped cream, cocoa and butter and leave them, in clay ramekins, on my colleagues' doorsteps.
(Chickenwire social lubricator extraordinaire, Thu 18 Sep 2008, 20:54, 1 reply)

Before I was old enough to go to pubs
It was house parties galore. The split second anyones parents were locking the front door, suitcase in hand, we were already storming through the back door ready to squat for several days drinking the house dry, getting the cat stoned and breaking nearly every ornament in the process.

I was one of the lucky ones who had a boyfriend a few years older than myself so he provided me with alcohol. He wasnt 18 but this was before recent times, nowadays you need to look at least 30 and provide the cashier with 2 types of ID before they'll consider putting the beer through the till.

The majority of people at these shindigs, however, had to nick their beer from the parentals so the alcohol available was pretty varied.

A rather unfavoured young man from my school brought a giant bottle of champagne to drink by himself. He'd had some but put it in the fridge whilst he went outside to smoke some dispicable things. I didn't witness the next half hours goings on but boy with champagne had made some kind of sarky remark and was generally agressive trying to pick a fight with boyfriend.

Bf remains calm and collected and just goes back into the kitchen. Takes his champers out of the fridge, pours half of what was left down the sink.. and pisses in it.

Moron strolls back into the kitchen, where upon a witness to the pissing dares him to down the rest of the bottle.

Which he did, ending it with a huge smile on his face expecting us to be proud like he'd just run the marathon or something..

Ending with the unforgettable words 'I thought it'd be colder than this by now!'
(i should have joined myspace, Thu 18 Sep 2008, 20:09, Reply)

Holiday Job
We just got back from a working holiday in China, part of a cultural exchange, and I have to say it was most entertaining. We ended up working in a large dairy-products complex, and frankly it was shite. Long hours and crappy conditions.

However do did have some fun ... added a bag of some Melamine powder to one of the dried milk silos, dunno if it will give em the runs, but at least they will have an easy-wipe shiny arse :)
(flipper is going to die in a bizarre gardenning accident, Thu 18 Sep 2008, 20:07, 3 replies)

My best friend was a bit odd
He lived in his third year of university with an irish guy called Danny. Before I ever met him, my friend told me how Danny had slighted him somehow, and so he'd pissed liberally into Danny bottle of whisky that he kept in the kitchen.

A few weeks later I met Danny at an unrelated event, we ended up chatting and really getting on. We go back to Danny's for a spliff and he says I have to drink a whisky with him. I tell him I'm not a whisky drinker, anything to put him off, but he's insistent.

What could I do? Betray my friend's confidence or drink his piss?

Reader, I'm ashamed to say I chose the latter.
( emvee cruor deo cruoris, Thu 18 Sep 2008, 20:03, Reply)

Wasabi
Maybe a little far from the topic, but a former boss once told me of the time he went out to have lunch at a sushi place with co-workers, including one person who'd never had the stuff before. The sushi virgin pointed at the little lump of wasabi and asked what it was. Boss says, "Oh, that's wasabi. You just pop it in your mouth and eat it."

I believe he left the company shortly thereafter.
(tellum0 is spelled with an 'o', Thu 18 Sep 2008, 19:54, 1 reply)

Here, drink this...
My friend Karl, for all his good qualities, is not the most quiet or sane of people when drunk. And what with this being his 18th birthday, he was monumentally drunk.

So drunk, in fact, that he agreed to drink anything we bought him. Big mistake.

It's an interesting if little - known fact that baileys, mixed with anything other than more baileys, curdles into a foul substance closely remembling cat sick, but without the charm. Even Baldrick would be ashamed.

Into one glass we got: Baileys, lime, guiness, stella, vodka, rum and wray and nephew - 63% rum. One sniff was enough to make you retch. Karl grabs the glass and takes a mighty swig. It was quite interesting to watch his expression change over the next half second or so, before he totally lost it. Hopping about, retching, shouting for water, and right now...

Cue a glass full of neat vodka. The reaction to this was even better.

And then cue the genius that is my friend Alex handing Karl the first glass back again with the immortal words "Have some beer Karl, it'll take the taste away".

So Karl, desperately trying to escape the taste of liquid death, downs the rest.

We didn't see him again that evening...
( MatJ LOOK, Thu 18 Sep 2008, 19:53, 1 reply)

For personal experimentation, really
I ended up working with my flatmate - we'd get the tube in together in the mornings and when we got to the office, I'd get a cup of tea for me and a coffee for him.

Over a period of months, I added half a spoonful of coffee to his cup every so often. It wasn't until he'd been drinking six and a half spoonfuls per cup for a week and was such a complete jittery mess he could barely make a lucid phone call, that I confessed.

He didn't let me make coffee after that.
( emvee cruor deo cruoris, Thu 18 Sep 2008, 19:49, 1 reply)

One of my former collegues
Sick of the idiot flatmates who kept stealing her milk at uni, decided to put laxative in her milk once or twice. They kept away once they'd learned.

Except one day she forgot.
( morrybyte made a subtle namechange at, Thu 18 Sep 2008, 19:36, Reply)

Drink my cloudy piss you scummer
Christmas eve probably '98 or '99. In the "daffodil and hat" (name changed to protect me 'cos I'm guilty of some other things)
I was not long out of hospital and looking gorgeous with my NHS wheelchair and legbag. The leg bag was full, the toilets where
a: up two steps
b: the other side of a rammed and heaving pub
c:full of piss.
So I emptied my leg bag into a handy pint glass and put it on the window sill.
After some minor circulating (trying to get close enough to a fit filly to make spider legs up her legs) I see the pint glass being investigated by a drunk skint scummer. His investigation wasn't that thorough.
something like ...
1: It's a glass
2: It's full of cloudy yellow liquid
3: SLURP SLURP SLURP.
Twat
I really hope you enjoyed drinking my cloudy warm piss. But I have a question for you.
Did you really not realise what you where drinking?
I only ask because you did finish the pint damn quickly. Worried about it's owner claiming it or something?
No worries mate, I would have given it too you if you had asked.
Twat
(godisdove I like cheese, Thu 18 Sep 2008, 19:34, Reply)

Racists + food sabotage = job satisfaction
Hello. I am a redneck. As such, I earned my teenage Bud Light and mullet wages by working in a local supermarket bakery’s donut laboratory.

My small redneck town boasted some fine racists in its stock, chief amongst which was the leader of the Christian Nationalists. This man would come in every morning and buy up a dozen donuts, I assume to distribute to some racists. I, being a Teenage Superpinko with the wherewithal to realise that racism is bad, refused to serve him, handing the job off to my coworker who counted mindless racism amongst her finest attributes. My boss, a part-time racist Baptist minister who wished to create his own cult that worshipped him as the messiah, became very angry indeed that I would absolutely not sell donuts to King Racist. “Pidgeony,” he said, “just sell dem derned donuts. Figgir it out.”

And figgir it out I did!

So imagine the big racist’s surprise when he came in the next morning to find a box of neatly packed donuts waiting for him! And every day thereafter! I had to get in early to rub those donuts against toilet sludge, fill them with a combination of cream and snot and top them off with a fart, but ahhh, it was worth it.
(TheSnark oh, c'mon, like you didn't see me coming, Thu 18 Sep 2008, 19:26, 6 replies)

Grass water
Me and my best friend were in his back yard, taking any substance that could be mushed into a liquid and mixing it into a bucket. We added a few body fluids but not any of the serious ones that would be impossible for a couple of ten-year-olds.

I suggested we bring it over to my home to feed to my sister.

My sister answered the door (I was hiding around the corner) and my best friend said "Try this, it's the new flavour of Kool-Aid."

My sister said. "You first," wisely.

So my best friend leaned back and took a good swig of the mixture of ground-up grass, spit, dirt, etc, that we had. He meant to pretend to drink it, but he ended up drinking deeply. Oops. Then he spat it out, and my sister didn't believe it could be anything worth drinking. Oh well, at least we got one person.
(racetraitor has an alibi for, Thu 18 Sep 2008, 19:26, Reply)

There was this crap lurgi kid in our secondary school Home Economics class, called Craig.
The day we made egg custards, we had to stand them on the fridge shelves overnight to set before we could take them home to our long-suffering parents.

Three of us snuck back into the Home Ec classroom at break, and while the delicious nutmeg-dusted puddings were still liquid, we submerged a half-frozen turkey sausage in Craig's. But before we did that, we injected the revolting flabby meat-cock with cheap blue washing up liquid, inserted via ingenious use of an empty biro tube. Kind of like an antibacterial poultry eclair.

Apparently, it quite spoiled his mum's birthday tea. Sorry, Mrs Craig.

(It wasn't really our fault, though - your mongy son shouldn't have got that massive yellow seagull turd all down his cheek at the bus stop in first year.)
( grey kid is breakdancing to save a community centre, Thu 18 Sep 2008, 19:21, Reply)

Another bored at uni story...
During a regular hungover day hanging around in our student flat, it was decided that we'd had enough of living in what was effectively a bin.

The rotting chicken giblets on the floor needed to be removed, the furry wok that was last used a month previously needed a small scrub, the variety of now-green foodstuffs in the fridge had to go, the fridge itself needed to be fumigated, and the 9 months of daily grease needed to be extracted from the oven.

Out came the 4th hoover of the year after the others had all been broken, and an attempt to somehow clean the carpet and six sofas we had arranged around the room (for duvet days obviously) needed to be made.

The 'boob wall' was to be taken down, and the rotting mango juice from 'the mango fight of 05' had to peeled from the walls, along with the various tea bags stuck to the wall in a random game of 'who can get a tea bag to stick to the wall for the longest'.

After a heroic attempt at all the above, the 4 of us brave warriors decided a sit down was in order, and my good friend Mark decided it was time for his Iceland meal of the day.

Now Mark is a peculiar character, and has his ways and methods of doing things. For instance, he would always eat the bulk of his healthy meal, have a brew and a cig, then go back for the chips and peas.

It was at this point, whilst we were sat down around the telly, that he had his little break and the food sabotage occured.

Sat next to him, and with the hoover still in close proximity, I wondered just how powerful the suction was on this particular model.

Very, the answer quickly appeared to be.

In the space of a few seconds, the lit cigarette, a mug full of coffee, and a plate full of peas and chips had all been devoured by the unlikely destroyer in my hand.

His face went from utter content to extreme panic as his 3 loves were taken from him in the blink of an eye.

Then we had to get hoover number 5, they don't appreciate liquid inside them. Messes with the electronics I guess...
(gin'll fix it, Thu 18 Sep 2008, 19:15, 6 replies)

There was a guy who hung around with our group
He pulled the girl I really liked, and basically made her unhappy. She eventually broke up with him, and I confessed my feelings to her. She said she liked me too, but it was too soon after the other guy and she was leaving to go travelling the next day. I didn't see her again.

The next time our group was out, I got chatting to a rather lovely German girl. An hour later, the same guy had his tongue down her throat.

So I put my cock in his drink when he wasn't looking.
( emvee cruor deo cruoris, Thu 18 Sep 2008, 19:14, 5 replies)

When I moved away...
...from home for the first time I moved in with a guy called Pete. We were good mates and he still is to date the best flat mate that I have ever lived with.

Unbeknownst to me at the time, Pete's idea of housework was...well..inventive at best. Downright clatty at worst.

Pete's approach to washing the dishes for example was to let his dog lick the plates clean. Give them a quick wipe with a tea towel and then put them back on the shelf. I should point out that I only found this out after we had been living together for about 2 weeks. I was working nightshift at the time and left for work just after dinner most nights.

When I found out, a mutual friend clued me in, I was less than thrilled. My plan for vengeance was to make 2 mini steak pies for our dinner. One for me with lovely prime steak and one for Pete with lovely Winalot Prime. I put our first initial on each pie just to prevent any mix up.

His only complaint during the meal was that it didn't taste as nice as the last ones I had made. I told him that the butcher I usually went to was closed. When he finished more than half of his doggy delight I mentioned it's ingredients. After about a 5 second pause he just shrugged and carried on regardless. The man had a stomach like a steel trap.

Bon appetit.
(charliesays, Thu 18 Sep 2008, 19:11, 2 replies)

Looks like my dining out days are over..
Considering the 'itchy trigger/bi polar/knife's edge' attitudes alot of the posts already have and I'm betting will soon flood the boards with on the standards of what makes a 'bad customer', I've suddenly developed a fear of being served by a snot-nosed malicious twunt who would doubtlessly see my request for 'more bread please' as an excuse to defecate in my lasagne.
(wide walking will, Thu 18 Sep 2008, 19:03, 1 reply)

Green Milk
You steal my milk in uni?

I use green food colouring to make it green

Milk is green - no-one drinks it, also everyone is too lazy to throw it out

Win!
( ogwen69 has returned from Reddit, Thu 18 Sep 2008, 19:02, Reply)