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This is a question Messing With Their Head

Gaslighting, mindfucks, call it what you will - what subtle ways have you messed with people? The pettier or more subtle the better.

(, Thu 16 Apr 2015, 14:58)
Pages: Popular, 2, 1

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We regularly passed through this sleepy Welsh town on our way to family holidays in Pembrokeshire. I told our kids it was pronounced "My cunt's alight". They believed this for years and convinced friends, geography teachers etc that this was the 100% correct pronunciation. Right up until the murder of April Jones hit the news.
(, Thu 23 Apr 2015, 16:38, Reply)

(, Thu 23 Apr 2015, 15:03, 2 replies)
I was Dr Shambolic all the time!
(, Thu 23 Apr 2015, 11:15, 12 replies)
You can mess with my head all you like, just don't mess with my heart...

(, Thu 23 Apr 2015, 9:27, 3 replies)
Years back when I lived in Kentish Town
I came home one evening to find one of my Transformers (G1 Bludgeon, FWIW) sitting next to my housemate's computer in the living room. Suspecting that he was planning some kind of mind-fuckery I took it back to the toy shelves in my room only to find that mine was still sitting where it should be, and that my housemate had gone out and bought a duplicate. I got caught returning it, whereupon he revealed that he'd been planning a series of "trials" that would ultimately have destroyed poor Bludgeon - the final one was supposed to have been an acid bath - to make me think that it was my Transformer that was melted. I suppose the moral of the story is: if you're planning to fuck with someone, don't leave the evidence lying around where they can find it.
(, Wed 22 Apr 2015, 19:09, 8 replies)
I've been listening.

(, Wed 22 Apr 2015, 14:49, 5 replies)
I edited a load of Conservative politicians' Wikipedia entries

(, Wed 22 Apr 2015, 9:59, 5 replies)
Two old crows sat in a tree,
Black as black as buggary.
One old crow said to the other,
You stole my wife, you black old buggar.
(, Wed 22 Apr 2015, 8:45, Reply)

But in the mean time whether you believe me or not - for those of you who know you deserve this - have fun looking over your shoulder over the next few weeks.
(, Tue 21 Apr 2015, 19:07, 9 replies)
Intercept that, you twat.
Don't think this would work these days but sometime in the mid-90s a friend of mine was getting abusive phone calls from the family of her ex-husband. She knew who it was but couldn't prove it. (This is house phone, pre-mobileocene period).

I went to hers late one night and found her in tears - apparently they'd been at it again and she'd reached breaking point. Just then the phone rang. 'It's them', she said. 'I know it is.'

So on the spur of the moment I picked up the phone and in the most laconic, bored, Sarf London accent I could manage, said 'Hello, BT Interceptor. I have your details here - what number are you calling?'

It's amazing how silence over a phone can be so evocative. It was as if the wanker on the other end had stopped even breathing. Then there was a click.

I thought they'd probably try again - and they did. Twice. That was all, though - she never heard from them again. Result.

Would loved to have been a fly on that particular wall when I first answered the phone, though.
(, Tue 21 Apr 2015, 13:29, 13 replies)
The square the A is in is exactly the same colour the B is in
(, Tue 21 Apr 2015, 10:56, 4 replies)
If I see my son heading up to his bedroom with headphones, I get that kettle on pretty sharpish I can tell you.

(, Tue 21 Apr 2015, 10:04, Reply)
how do you keep a sex offender in suspense?

(, Mon 20 Apr 2015, 17:29, 20 replies)
one christmas eve, my brother's children were staying at my dad's house
and i got stuck babysitting so my brother and his wife could fuck off afternoon boozing.

i told the kids that the magic eye on my dad's burglar alarm sensor was a "santa-cam" and that santa was keeping a very careful eye on how they were behaving. it worked like a charm. every time one of them moved, that little red light went on, and they all froze.

they still eye those sensors with suspicion, a good couple of years later...
(, Mon 20 Apr 2015, 15:15, Reply)
The long game
For reasons I can't remember, I had told my 12-year-old daughter about that line in Rocky Horror where Frank says "anticip........ ation". One day it came up again, and I said ""anticip........", but never finished it. It drove her crazy, but I stuck to it. I still haven't completed it, months later, despite her frequent pleading.

I plan to end it during my speech at her wedding.
(, Mon 20 Apr 2015, 9:48, 2 replies)
Because in China I never knew where I could next find a clean toilet,
I trained myself to pee whenever I clicked my fingers, a sort of auto-Pavlonian response technique. Well one day I was listening to the start of "Killer Queen", and long story short I pissed in my own mouth.
(, Mon 20 Apr 2015, 8:38, Reply)
I have an aversion to people who put up signs around a work kitchen area. "Please put your plates away", that sort of thing
It's like a form of permanent nagging.
So I'll put up my own signs with messages like "UNAUTHORISED SIGNS. It has come to our attention that people are placing signs in the kitchen area without OH&S review or fire hazard risk assessment. Please refrain from doing this in the future"
Ok, so not exactly high on the scale of workplace dissent, but at least it seemed to troll a few of the OCD's, which was my goal
(, Mon 20 Apr 2015, 1:23, 3 replies)
You need a little knowledge of electronics to get this one.

My uncle used to work at Plessey. The jokers there would get liquorice comfits, and paint coloured bands round them. Then they'd gently drill a hole in each end, and insert a wire, then very gently solder them into a circuit board.
(, Sun 19 Apr 2015, 21:44, 2 replies)
At Uni, in shared accommodation
I waited until one of the housemates, Mike, had topped up the sugar. When he had gone elsewhere, I tipped all but a bit of the sugar back into the packet. Couple of hours later, he swore he had already filled it up earlier.

I swapped the bulb in his room for a lower wattage one.
(, Sun 19 Apr 2015, 20:08, 1 reply)
Large Family photo
Friend of mine posted a picture of a family gathering on Facebook. Later, I found he had printed and framed said picture and it was now on display on his mantelpiece.
It only seemed right that I downloaded it, edited it in Photoshop, had it developed and swapped it for the one he had on display. Consequently, there were an extra three random strangers in the group after that, including Richard Nixon standing at the back. His brother now sported a pork-pie hat and his late father is now a good 4 inches shorter.
9 months later, he can tell there's something not quite right but can't quite put his finger on it.
(, Sun 19 Apr 2015, 20:04, 1 reply)

(, Sun 19 Apr 2015, 18:50, 3 replies)
many years ago
a miniature version of me was at boarding school. Now there was a very Us vs Them attitude between pupils and staff. and many entertaining adventures were had, but we always used to pull all the stops out for April Fools day. one year this involved two dormitories of 14 boys having an all out pillow fight, an attempt to carry several sets of sleeping boys in their bunk beds from another dormitory out to set their dormitory up in the garden. plus a party with underage drinking out in the local graveyard at four in the morning.

This of course all went down really badly, with threats of expulsion, and promises extracted that we would never do similar again.

So the Next April rolls around, and there is much staff paranoia that we will do something remarkably stupid, so what did we do? we set a broken alarm clock that didn't ring up as if it would go off at 3:30 in the morning,

So the staff spent the night sleeping on airbeds in the entrance of the building and on the fire escape in the cold, while we lay there all night chuckling to ourselves and sleeping in nice warm beds
(, Sun 19 Apr 2015, 17:27, 5 replies)
Alan shared a house with a 2 other men, one of whom was a friend of mine, which is how i got to hear this story
Nice enough chap generally but a bit prone to bragging about anything and everything.
One january he comes home from the sales with a new pair of jeans and proceeds to bore the other guys with talk of what a bargain he got and how he was still wearing the same size jeans after several years.
Richard ( my friend) in the guise of feigning admiration asked where he bought them from.
On being told, him and the other guy pooled resources and went and bought 2 identical pairs, one a size smaller and one a size bigger.
Then had great fun swapping the jeans over and stifling smirks when Alan got all confused and shouty that sometimes the jeans fit right and other days they were either too tight or too big.
It took the silly sod nearly a month before he looked at the label inside and realised he'd been had
(, Sun 19 Apr 2015, 16:55, Reply)
I work with a guy called Steve. Steve is a very quiet chap but he has his moments of what I personally like to think of as genius.

Steve works in an office with a woman who is a complete pest. Total pain in the arse. Not only is she completely useless she's annoying with it, speaks with her mouthful, talks over you all the time, doesn't understand the concept of having a conversation requires there to be times when her mouth isn't moving.

This lady likes to make lots of personal calls on her mobile that can last an hour sometimes. These calls are a constant source of annoyance for the people that share the staff room with her. Steve has taken it upon himself that almost every time she is making one of these calls he stands up after a few minutes goes to the staff room door for a minute, pretends to have a conversation with someone, calls the ladies name and he is waved away while she finishes her conversation. When she hangs up and asks who was at the door he says "oh I didn't get a name, he was tall scruffy looking" or something similar to this.

She then spends the entire day stopping any student that vaguely matches the description given. She will continue to look for this person for a couple of days and then she just assumes it mustn't have been important. Until the following week when the imaginary student turns up again.
(, Sun 19 Apr 2015, 16:41, Reply)
Hello, Moto
Once, many incarnations ago, I worked for a large organisation in their vast, cavernous open-plan office in one of your major cities. My job was menial and tedious, even demeaning, to one such as I with my vast intellect and range of superior talents, but I needed the money, so I put up with it until something better came along. I was there for three months and after a only a week I was bored out of my Time Lord mind. So, to break the tedium, to entertain myself, I destroyed the mind of one of my work colleagues.

His name doesn't matter - let's call him Andy. It wasn't personal, he had done nothing to me, we didn't even work in the same team. I just picked him at random as my plaything. Andy was a young, fresh-faced chap with neat brown hair and a pleasant, cheerful face. He always wore crisp white shirts and pastel ties, a different shade each day. He was quiet, well-regarded, and good at his job. By the time I had finished him, he was a broken toy, fit only to be pitied, destined for a life of homelessness, prostitution, alcoholism and suicide.

How did I break him? It was simple, so so simple. Every time he walked past my desk, I would look him straight in the eye and say 'Hello, Moto' in a creaky comedy voice, as in the Motorola television advertisements of the time:


That was all it took, over the course of three months, to dismantle a human being and send it to the scrap-heap of life.

The first time I did it, Andy looked surprised, and a little bit scared. After that, he smiled, obviously thinking it was a joke. After a week, he started raising his eyebrows and shooting me a look of disapproval. Then, after a few weeks, he started ignoring me, but I could see a little twitch in his left eye every time I intoned the magic words 'Hello, Moto.'

Then one day, as he approached, I was about to say 'Hello, Moto' when, before I had the chance, he said it to me. I simply reacted with a blank stare of incomprehension and watched the smile melt slowly from his face.

I was half-expecting his manager to come and have a word with me about my behaviour, but what could Andy say? 'Skagra keeps saying "Hello, Moto" to me and it's beginning to affect my performance.' He obviously felt too embarrassed to raise the issue. So on I went. Every time he passed my desk, I would look him in the eye and say, 'Hello, Moto.'

'Hello, Moto. Hello, Moto. Hello, Moto.'

He went back to ignoring me, or trying to ignore me, and the twitch got worse. After a month or so he took to scowling angrily and averting his face, his fists clenched hard.

After two months, this happened:

Andy approaches my desk.
Me: 'Hello, Moto.'
Andy: 'Look, can you stop this? Please?'
Me: 'Stop what?'
Andy: 'Saying fucking "Hello, Moto" each time I walk past!'
Me: 'I don't know what you're talking about.'
Andy: 'You do... Stop it. [Choking back a sob] Just stop it, right?
Me [as Andy walks off]: 'Hello, Moto.'

After that, he would flinch convulsively each time he walked past and I said 'Hello, Moto.' His once cheerful face took on a gaunt, haunted aspect. There were dark rings beneath his eyes and he was more often unshaven than not. His sick absences increased sharply and I heard gossip that he was drinking heavily. All this pleased me immensely and provided me with a welcome distraction from the tedium of my work.

It all came to a head one Friday. I didn't see the first act, but I did witness the denouement. Andy came in late and extremely hungover, and just before lunch, went to the toilet, never to return. He was found by an alarmed member of staff to have locked himself in one of the cubicles and was sobbing hysterically. His manager was fetched but all attempts to talk him down failed. Eventually, security guards were called in and they broke down the door only to find Andy curled up in the foetal position, his screaming face a mess of tears and snot, his trousers and boxer shorts round his ankles and the words 'Hello, Moto' smeared on the walls of the cubicle in his own excrement.

Andy was hauled shrieking from the cubicle by the two burly security guards and escorted out of the building, trousers still round his ankles, screaming 'HELLO, MOTO!' over and over again at the top of his voice. I watched with extreme satisfaction as the broken toy was dragged across the atrium and ejected from the building, never to return.

A week or so later I got a new and better job, which didn't require such distractions. Andy, I later found out, lost his job and his house and became a homeless alcoholic male prostitute and was arrested for smashing in the windows of a Motorola shop. He hung himself with his trouser belt in his prison cell.


(, Sun 19 Apr 2015, 13:07, 11 replies)
Knowk, Knock, Punch.
Some friends of mine did this at school to a fellow.

Didnt take long before al they needed was just the knock and he would flinch/tick.

Cruel? yes.
(, Sun 19 Apr 2015, 3:24, Reply)
Kids. Or sometimes you're the mind-fuckee instead of the mind-fucker.
I'm the proud father of a couple of beautiful intelligent girls. As any parent will tell you - despite coming from the same genetic stock, your kids can show marked and immense differences in brain-power, physical abilities and looks. Case in point. Both my girls are fairly smart but the youngest definitely was in the correct line when God was handing out brains and asked for a big one. I'm pretty sure the eldest thought God was talking about hair and asked for "Blonde, please."
Put it this way, when it came time for my missus and I to do our Enduring Powers of Attorney and Living Wills we made sure that we stipulated that the youngest was in charge when it comes to finances and where we end up if we go to a home. A bit less compassionate but a much smarter and more practical head on her shoulders.

Here are a couple of examples of my eldest in full flight.

Driving home from the library (or shops or whatever) in my car. My car is a reddish almost burgundy stationwagon. Quite a unique colour but a brilliant car - great mileage, plenty of room in the back for all things work and play based and an extra set of fold-down seats in the boot for play-dates/movies etc. As we crest the hill before the turn off for our street a sedan of similar colouring passes us by. As we pull into our driveway my eldest chimes in with
"Hey dad?"
"Umm, yes dear."
"Was that your car we just passed?" she asks.
Stunned silence as me, my wife and my youngest try to compute how our daughter/sister has wondered if we just drove past the very car we are sitting in...

In summer we get some flies. Not plague proportions and nothing that a few spools of flypaper can't handle but a couple of years ago I got a couple of cheap plastic fly swats for the girls to go nuts with. Usually ended up in tears after a fly-swat battle ensued.

A few weeks ago the older asks me
"Hey dad..."
"Yes dear?"
"Where's that, umm thing?" Not a rare occurrence in our house.
"What thing dear - use your words." Not a phrase infrequently said in our house...
"You know the hitty thing." Hitty thing?
"Umm, no. what hitty thing - use your describing words my dear."
"You know the animal hitty whacker thing."
We seem to be slowly getting somewhere. "No, sorry what thing do you hit animals with?"
"You know" she sigh exasperatedly, "the flying animal killer thingy." as she swings her arm as though she was returning a Venus William's serve.
"I think she means the fly-swat" chips in the younger.
Ahhh. *Sound of penny dropping*
"Dunno, use your eyes my dear."

I suppose these mindfucks they give me almost but not quite make up for me periodically telling them they're both adopted.
(, Sun 19 Apr 2015, 1:55, Reply)
Not subtle, but the Britt McHenry situation works
(, Sat 18 Apr 2015, 16:55, Reply)

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