My brother
found Andy Townsends wedding photos in a skip.

I don't know what my brother was doing in the skip.
( scarpe We Stole Bikes, Thu 6 Nov 2008, 14:53, Reply)

As a kid..
my brother and I found some tins of paint in the fields behind our house. It was "apple something", but it really was the colour of duckegg - like the colour underside of spitfires were painted in.

We carted it home - 6 tins in total. My mum went spare when she saw it - and told us we shouldn't pick things up we find in fields and that we "should think about the IRA's bombing campaign". This I found hard to swallow. Ok, so it was the '70s, but Gerry Adams was hardly going to conceal bombs in tins of paint, and then leave them lying around in a desolate field in the middle of Lancashire! It was fly tipping woman!

Anyroad, my dad painted the inside of the garage with it. And no explosions - and no it wasn't a propaganda mural either.

Made a nice change from the discarded wank mags we used to find.
( Piper Alpha is being a grumpy northerm bastard on:, Thu 6 Nov 2008, 14:51, Reply)

A bit of a cheat, as I wrote this a good couple of years ago...
...but it pertains to the question, as its about what I found when I moved into a new flat with friends:


"Lies. Years and years of propaganda and lies I’ve fallen for, and I only realised it properly yesterday. I am here today to officially ‘out’ girls as being disgusting, filthy individuals.

Now, before anyone gets upset, I am not saying that men are not filthy. We are. Left to our own devices we will happily live surrounded by beer cans, pizza boxes, over flowing ashtrays, weeks worth of dirty socks in a stinking rotten cess-pit of a house. I know that all too well. We only shape up when we have to share with women, because we believe that they are so sweet smelling and clean and fresh and lovely.

This is not true. They are not.

I spent the last couple of days moving into a flat that was previously inhabited by three women. It was supposed to be cleaned before we turned up, but it hadn’t been, and I spent most of Wednesday throwing out all the stuff that they had left behind.
I can not even begin to tell you what an eye opener it was. Dirty knickers, unwashed bras, tampons strewn under the beds and furniture, sanitary pads every where, thrush cream and an applicator in the kitchen (KITCHEN!) drawer, 100’s of magazines everywhere, including porn I might add, dust, dirt, rancid food in the fridge. Did I mention the thrush cream? In the Kitchen?

We have been deceived. Women who live in single sex groups are every bit as disgusting as men who do the same, the time they must spend tidying up and pretending to be nice when we are around is incredible. All these years of buying into the lie that I’ve been through. All those years of suffering at the hands of women who are actually every bit as bad as me, worse even, because they are deceitful with it.

Well, NO MORE. You have been rumbled, women, never again will I stand staring at my shuffling feet when being admonished for being a ‘disgusting male’, now I know the truth, I am empowered, I am free, I AM MAN, I AM FILTHY AND PROUD OF IT, HEAR ME ROAR!

And honestly, the kitchen? I mean, for God’s sake, Why?

EDIT: Two hours later -

I’ve just had a phone call from one of my two flatmates, an old friend from my Uni days. He was in the bathroom and he noticed the side panel of the bath looked a bit loose, so he had a closer look and realised it could be pulled away from the bathtub itself. Inside was a plastic bag, so he pulled it out and opened it up. Inside, to use the exact phrase he just used ‘is a fucking foot long rubber cock’.

Nice.

I wonder if it was communal."
( scarpe We Stole Bikes, Thu 6 Nov 2008, 14:44, 9 replies)

Found pr0n pearoast
I've told this story on these pages before, but it deserves a repost, even if both of my post in this QOTW are now on the discovery of FILTH.

Long and short of it: I was dumping several tons of builders' rubble from my doomed attempts to extend my house at Weymouth rubbish tip, when I spotted, out of the corner of my eye, a DVD case.

"What ho!" says I, "I'll see if that's any good", and fished it out, shoved inside my coat and whisked it off home.

"Grannies Cumming 2", an hour-and-a-half exploration of the sexual habits of the older generation, in full blood-coming-out-of-your-eye-sockets graphic detail.

In the name of research, I watched every frame of that disgusting spectacle. Twice.

The full horror of this tale HERE, if you're that interested in wrinkly pr0n.
( Scaryduck LIKES EGG, Thu 6 Nov 2008, 14:42, 1 reply)

Found!
One bleary eyed Saturday morning I stumbled from my bed, spying a zimmer frame out of my window as I put on my dressing gown before ambling downstairs to watch Saturday morning cartoons. As the sleep disappeared from my brain the reality of what I'd seen began to filter through, much like the bulldozer in the opening chapter of the Hitchhiker's Guide.

A zimmer frame. Standing perfectly upright on the pavement outside my house, as if the owner had just walked off and forgotten it. How the smeg do you lose a zimmer frame?
(jamesthegill opens new tabs with his scroll wheel, Thu 6 Nov 2008, 14:42, 2 replies)

To my surprise I have found...
...that after 20 years of a successful, secure and comfortable life in Australia that I now crave a desire to live back in the UK.
I'd be saying goodbye to great mates, a lovely local environment and a decent house.
But family? They are there and I am here.
God I must be getting old...
(emadex thinks the world will end on, Thu 6 Nov 2008, 14:39, 10 replies)

I was on holiday
In Portugal, and I found a kid wandering around by the side of the road.

There was nobody around, (and, hell, who'd miss a kid with a creepy eye anyway) so I rammed a tyre iron through her skull and shoved her in the boot.

I took her back to the hotel I was staying in, and chopped her into pieces and flushed each one down the toilet.
( Cawl, Thu 6 Nov 2008, 14:38, 14 replies)

Slightly different angle
To the 3 or 4 sets of fuckers who have stolen my Nan's purse over the last couple of years:

Well done for 'finding' an elderly woman to prey upon.
I hope you get syphilis and your tits drop off - that one goes to the 'foreign' woman who used the coat over her arm and the baby on her lap to screen the fact that she was going through my Nan's bag while she thrust a badly written note in her face and gabbled intelligible bollocks.
Be careful out there, lots of you youngsters are getting stabbed in London these days. Especially those who look loaded and might be beneficial to rob - my advice to the cheap arsed little shits who did the old 'purse out of the bag and passed to me mate behind' trick twice while Nan was getting on a bus.

But pretty much to every thief and skank who 'find' people that can be considered an easy turn over, particularly the elderly:
Fuck you all.
(tweebianmonkey Should be known as Widget, Thu 6 Nov 2008, 14:37, 2 replies)

Oooh, another!
A friend of mine used to have a job clearing out old sub-stations, just keeping them clean like.

Anyway, one day I went along with him just 'cos there was not a lot else going on.

We went to one, in a town that shall remain nameless, opened up the gate and inside was a perfect wanking den complete with a tent, a stack of porn mags about 3 feet tall and a bumper pack of bog roll (still sealed).

I assume he took along the hand-cream as when it was required.

Length? I have no idea, but I'm sure that amount of tossing off must have some effect.
(dchurch bah, Thu 6 Nov 2008, 14:35, 1 reply)

Smugglers cave
A long time ago in a haze of smoke, I was walking with my friend who had been instructed, nah, ordered to walk his mum's dogs, as I was just about to knock for him while he was on his way out, I walked with him.

It was in the critical moment (for the dog, i.e. doing it's 'business') that the dogs' paw slipped and it actually fell; luckily not in it's own 'business'.

We had a look to see what it had tripped over and found a small hole. Quickly, we found a stick about as long as your arm and pocked it down. It swallowed the whole thing.

We went and nicked a bean pole from my mums' garden and took it back up to where we had found the hole and pocked it down. It swallowed that too. We wiggled it about and sure enough, it was starting to look like it was hollow under there.

...and so, we went back to my parents house, picked up a pick-axe and a 14 (? dunno for sure, but it was heavy) pound hammer and a large torch...and then took to making that hole big enough to climb down.

...and big enough we did make it. Climbed down gently and shone the torch about.

There was one tunnel that lead out to sea, and one each way to the left and right of where I was standing.

Bonus! We'd found an old smuggling tunnel from the 14th century!

Oblivious to the dangers, we both got down in there and started to look about, following each tunnel in each direction.

Sadly, after about 100-200 yards all three of the tunnels were bricked up - probably in the 70's by the looks of it.

A few weeks later, there were cones all around that hole. A week after that, the whole lot was filled with shingle.

Still, if we hadn't found it, who knows what might have happened? It could have collapsed when a car was driving over the top or something.
(dchurch bah, Thu 6 Nov 2008, 14:32, 1 reply)

plank
As some of you may know I am in fact a Scottish person – a Weegie to be precise. Our version of the Queens English is often a mangle of words from the French, our Irish cousins, the Auld Scots language and a smattering of Gaelic, as a result we have some wonderful words and truly colourful expressions at our disposal. Some are fairly well known – ‘fannybaws’ ‘fud’ ‘bawbag’ and ‘dobbar’ to name but a few. To hear two Glaswegians insulting each other at full pelt is indeed ‘pure quality’. In Glasgow if ‘yer patter is pish’ you are as they say – a non-event.

Some words however are more obscure; such as ‘plank’ this is not as you might assume a term associated with timber, lumber or wood of any sort. To ‘plank’ something is to hide it, usually to be retrieved at a later, often safer time. E.g.

“Boaby* malkied* that wee prick Franny fir pumpin* his bird. Plod turned up so he hid tae plank his chib* unner the pool table”

I should probably explain that lot:

*Boaby. This is a common abbreviation for people called Robert, however a 'boaby' is also a term for a penis. To further complicate matters it is one of the few terms for penis that is not used in a derogetary manner. You may well be a ‘snidey wee prick’ or even a ‘fat dobber’ but I have yet to hear someone insulted with the term ‘you ya boaby’

*Malkied: slashed on the face, or ‘chibbed’ derived from Malky Fraser (Malcolm Fraser) rhyming slang for an old cut throat razor. (Who Malky was has evaporated into the Scots mists of time.) Interestingly there is a fair degree of rhyming slang in the Weegie repertoire but they are terms that would discombobulate your average cockney. In fact they wouldn’t have a Scooby.

*Pumpin(g): shagging, fucking, ‘the act of copulation’

* Chib: a weapon for slashing or ‘chibbing’ someone with. Glaswegians hold their Edinburgh cousins (plastic English) in low esteem. There is a popular opinion in the West that ‘there’s more fun to be had at a Glesga chibbin than an Edinburgh wedding’

However I digress. Planking stuff – I have a habit of when I get home I empty my pockets. If I have had a few nippy sweeties (drinks) I sometimes for reasons only know to my own befuddled head often ‘plank’ banknotes for safekeeping then promptly forget I have done so. I’m not sure why I do this but I realised some time ago that finding forgotten ‘stashes’ of cash fairly brightens my day – often weeks or even months later.

I have two places I tend to plank cash: in my array of cookery books, or in my collection of DVD’s. This often throws up the odd tenner or 20 when I select a film, although 60 or 70 quid has been known. However one day when funds were particularly low I decided to search properly and systematically. I have large collection DVD’s and I am sad enough to have them alphabetised.

So after opening over 300 DVD cases I was losing hope as I was approaching the ‘V’ section. But amazingly it seems I had planked (and then forgotten) stashes of 100 quid in The Wizard of Oz, Welcome to Collinwood and X Men respectively.

Ya fuckin dancer!
( spimf ™ is whoever you want him to be, Thu 6 Nov 2008, 14:32, 5 replies)

well....
When I was about 9 way back in the late 80s, I happened upon a nice £5 note on the way home. May not seem much now, but to a 9 year old in the 80s, it was a big deal.

Oddly, Instead of buying armfuls of he-man jelly sweets, or lego, I spent most of it on a portable case of office stationary stuff - a really sleek looking black box with mini stapler, glue scissors and stuff.... I still don't know why.

When I was about twelve, I went on a school trip to Swanage... On a beach, I went off on my own, walking along all the piles of slate lying by the sand, and found a large piece (about 12 inches by 18 inches) with about 10 ammonite fossils on. That was pretty damn cool...
( theoriginalsteve <this space intentionally left blank>, Thu 6 Nov 2008, 14:30, Reply)

I also found
A twenty deck (minus one cigarette) on a table outside of a pub I was in a few weeks ago. Same brand I smoke as well. Touch! I did think of waiting for the unfortunate chap who'd left them there to come running back out and handing them over, but I've lost many a pack of cigarettes in my time without return, so what the hell.

Edit.. Might not sound like a particularly great find, but at the end of a night when you're running out and all the shops are closed it's a very welcome find indeed.
(TheManWithThePlan cussed your mum on, Thu 6 Nov 2008, 14:30, 1 reply)

my dad used to be a window cleaner
one day on his round, he found a chicken down an alleyway. he knocked at all the houses in the street, but nobody knew who this chicken belonged to, so he brought it home.
it was a rhode island red, which we called lenny henry. it laid the sum total of one egg before my dad decided to give it to a local farm.
( Smash Monkey lowering the tone of the whole internet, Thu 6 Nov 2008, 14:30, 4 replies)

bouncy castle
When a little nipper I used to cycle every day to the river near my house with my best mate. It was gorgeous North Wales countryside - lush green fields, fresh air, and in the Autumn we'd bomb around the river bank skidding through the dead leaves on our BMXs. Happy days.

One evening there was a massive storm that felled many trees in the area and there was widespread flooding, so the next day after school we pedaled down more eagerly than usual to our favourite spot to survey the damage.

It was pretty bad - our favourite tree had been snapped like a twig and was half in the river. We were just mournfully digesting our loss when we realised that a load of flood debris had collected against the tree, making a little platform hanging out into the river. We'd lost a tree, but gained a floating castle!

An initial foray showed the castle to be not only spacious, with a floor of dead leaves, mud and twigs, but also to be incredibly bouncy! Such an incredible find, we thought, as we both bounced higher and higher on our little platform, laughing gleefully.

Suddenly

"SQUELCH ARARARRGHGHG WHAT THE FFUCUC...!?!?!?"

We were both waist deep inside three-quarters of a rotting dead cow.

Not a castle at all. Not in the slightest. Rubbish find.
( rofl harris, Thu 6 Nov 2008, 14:28, 5 replies)

Gamlbing Machine
I once found a gambling machine in an arcade with 5 quid of credit in it.

I played it but won bugger all.
Should of cashed out.
(Opanoid Look sweats dripping off them, Thu 6 Nov 2008, 14:25, Reply)

A couple of years back
I was out with a mate of mine in Chester and his mate (A) came out as well. As the night went on many, many drinks were imbibed and much dancing did ensue in Rosies (it's the only place in Chester, or it was), although it may have been Havana's.

After a bit we all end up getting separated (I think girls were involved) and I'm left with A after my mate has gone home. We're both crashing at my mates and know how to get back so decide to walk it from town back to his.

En route back we both get the munchies but don't really have the cash for food, we end up walking past the Plantation Hotel and find a pizza box, closed and still a bit warm, so I have a lightbulb moment. I double check the street, it's still dead, not a soul except me and A.

I'm not proud of what I did next and the alcohol was to blame I'm sure but I opened the box, took out a slice of pizza and started eating. A just took one incredulous look at me with his mouth gaping open, held it for a couple of seconds while I happily munched on the bountiful pizza, then took a look in the box and saw the other slice and joined me!

Best find at the time ever, not lucky, just what was needed at the right time!

I'd apologise for length but it's inversely proportional to this post...
(Fuckarma was masturbating into your handbag, Thu 6 Nov 2008, 14:22, Reply)

I found a dog!
Or, to be probably more accurate, a dog found me. When I was about 14 I had a paper round in my village - most days it was drudgery beyond description, except for the Monday morning when I found myself being followed up the High Street by a Fred Bassett lookalike. He didn't appear to understand "Go on, piss off home", so a few Daily Mails and Telegraphs further down the street I decided I ought to do the responsible thing and take him off the street before he got hit by a car. I fashioned a lead out of a soggy length of that fake orange "rope" lying on the path near the Co-Op, and he happily accompanied me for the rest of my round.

The plan was simply to hand him over to the newsagent when finished (this seemed quite logical to me, him being A Grown-Up), but he clearly wasn't a dog person, yelling at me and pointing at the No Dogs Allowed sign in the window of the front door. My father was far more level-headed when I got home, however, and determined that we would look after the young runaway while trying to trace his owners. To discourage my young sister from becoming too attached, he took to calling our new lodger "Hound" in what he presumed was the country vernacular (think "Pig" in Babe), oblivious to the fact that she just thought it was a nice name for a doggy, and took great delight in fetching him water, feeding him biscuits and protesting that she couldn't stop him jumping up onto the lounge furniture with her. For my own part I was more interested in teaching him "tricks", and my mother ended up quite smitten as well, making him his own bed out of a tatty wicker basket and some old quilts.

Of course my father, who was working as hard as he could to repatriate the dog, sellotaping notices to telegraph poles and knocking on most of the doors in the village, took a dim view of his family bending over backwards to look after our new house guest, and sardonically titled the rest of us "Staff of Hound".
(Vice Admiral Sir Charles Cockbrush KCB MBE DSO, who is finding it increasingly difficult to log into b3ta.com wants to duck your aunt and kick your puppy, Thu 6 Nov 2008, 14:20, 3 replies)

Me.......
I've found that Fruit shortcake biscuits, don't
put up with much dunking.
(Murran_Butchstansanger Good bye Tony, R.I.P, Thu 6 Nov 2008, 14:18, 1 reply)

I wish
someone would have found those bloody droids, would have saved humanity from 3 of the shittest films of all time.
(Halfy By light alone, Thu 6 Nov 2008, 14:15, 4 replies)

My good deed for the day.
Whilst travelling home from work on Tuesday I was going down the escalator at Kings Cross when I looked down and there at my feet was a roll of tenners. It isn't every day this happens.
It wasn't a small sum of money - a couple of hundred quid, I'd guess, rolled in an elastic band. My immediate reaction was predictable. "Waahooo!" I thought. "This will buy me the new pair of boots I've been lusting after!"
I picked it up and looked about and there, at the bottom of the escalator, was a bloke looking bemused and feeling in his pockets. He hadn't seen me, and, if it was his money, he plainly had no idea I had it.

A little red version of myself holding a pitchfork appeared on my shoulder. "Keep it", said my evil side.
I nodded. My evil side made a good, sensible-sounding case.
After a very long pause, another figure, this of myself in robes with a harp appeared on my right shoulder.
"Hello", I said. "I haven't seen much of you lately."
With vocal cords long unused, my good side struggled to speak for a moment. It shrugged. "There's not been much for me to do.", it said. "Give his his money back. It's his, not yours."
"Ah", pitched in my evil side. "But he's got a wad of tenners and you haven't. That means if you keep it then it wouldn't be theft, it would be redistribution of wealth. That's how it works, you know."
I nodded again. My evil side was talking a lot of sense.
My good side cried out in horror. "You sound like Gordon Brown!", it cried.
I cursed. My good side was right.


"Scuse me", I said. "Have you lost some money?"
"Yeah?", he replied, hopefully.
"How much. It's not like I'm just going to hand it over."
"A roll of notes?"
"Damn. You win."
I gave him his money and went off to the gym, wondering if the expression of surprise and gratitude on his face was worth a wad of cash to me.
(davywavy, Thu 6 Nov 2008, 14:14, 3 replies)

Mudflap treasure
Never throw things away.

Back in the 70's, my uncle was cleaning the mudflaps of his car and
found what looked like a bit of diamante in the mud. Anybody else would
have chucked it away, but not him.

He took it to a mate who was a jeweller and walked away with 25 quid,
which was a lot back then. It was a white sapphire.

I learned a lot from that man. RIP Uncle Mo.
( finnbar has officially retired, Thu 6 Nov 2008, 14:13, 3 replies)

The best thing ever in life.
As summer fades away to a distant memory, and the cold nights and days draw in. Its time to pull out the winter coat from the wardrobe. I shake off its dust. Its big, its heavy and its oh so cosy. It fills me up with warmth as it huddles round me like a big bear. I'm now ready to brave the winter wonderland that is outside and take it on with new confidence.

A quick dig around in its vast pockets, and aww look an old receipt from last year.... And,Oh.. and whats this?

Two pounds!! Oh yeah baby!! TWO WHOLE POUNDS!! Theyre still shiny! Money I didnt think I had!! Wooooo hooooooo!!

Im sure this has happened to everyone, and it just makes winter worth it!
(Miggyman, Thu 6 Nov 2008, 14:13, 2 replies)

Oxfam
I bought a jacket in Oxfam for £1.

The first time I wore it I found a £1 note in the pocket.

Yes, I am that old.
(misspiggy In danger of having to get a job, Thu 6 Nov 2008, 14:10, 4 replies)

Didn't think it was a good find at first........
The best thing ever I found was back when I was a kid. I was the only child of a well off family so I had no real attachment to my material possessions, I actually cringe at the thought of it nowadays but I can’t change the past.

Anywhoo, one summer day while playing in the garden I ran over a part of the lawn that seemed to collapse underneath my feet. I must have only fell a few feet but to a kid like me that felt like forever. I was pretty traumatised by the event but managed to overcome it. The well was covered up and I didn’t think anything of it until a few years after my parents died.

I then used the well and the cave it was part of as a place to store all of my weapons in my fight against crime.
(mon bison powered by magnets, Thu 6 Nov 2008, 14:09, 3 replies)

Money
I once found £5 on a street.
Funny thing is I lost £5 on the same street on the opposite side about two weeks prior.

I often wonder if it's the same note or just a remarkable coincidence.
(zero.coke, Thu 6 Nov 2008, 14:09, 2 replies)

Gotta get this out of the way.
I found Jesus.

Turns out he was behind the couch the entire time.

(Now that it's been done, can we not clog up this QOTW with that joke?)
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Thu 6 Nov 2008, 14:08, 1 reply)

Not me, but a flatmate
Found about 6 ounces of resin lying on the ground in the car park he worked in. It was securely wrapped in clingfilm and had thus survived the several cars running over it.

Ready crumbled dope.

Good times, maaaan, good time.
(Haviland drinking like they're going to ban beer., Thu 6 Nov 2008, 14:07, Reply)